Hello beautiful people out there, I have been struggling to write for quite a few months, as too much has been happening around me; new life lessons, new situations to deal with, and the constant process of accepting life as it is. It still takes a toll on me when I have to accept certain things, even the very basics like the idea of happiness or just being “normal.” Don’t take me wrong, by normal, I mean a life post-surviving so much shit in life. Those of you who have consistently read my blog have seen my mental health journey. It still takes a toll on me if I have to be in a crowd for too long, or if I don’t get my “me time.” Then I just shut myself in my cosy little room and do nothing, just me, my books, and my baby dog Puzo. Anyway, after gathering so much courage, today I am finally writing my heart out after almost 5 months!
I recently got a new tattoo — ॥ अंतः अस्ति प्रारंभः ॥ — which means “In every ending, there’s a new beginning.” It feels like the perfect reflection of my journey so far. My depression turned me into a mental health advocate. My trauma taught me who to trust and what to welcome into my life. And perhaps the biggest lesson of all, life isn’t a fairytale. It’s full of bruises and cuts, but it’s through them that you truly discover the real meaning of living. For me, it’s about staying raw, staying real, and learning to accept life as it is. There were days when my body was signalling me to take a day off, but I wasn’t listening because I was too indulged in working. I found that escape somehow easier. Then one day, I legit shut down and finally talked to myself and realised: Girl, I am not behind, and I am not broken. I am just in the part of my own story where I am still learning to rest! I don’t have to be hard on myself just to escape or to feel less alone. And then this quote stuck with me: “Sometimes you just need to retreat. Not because you are weak, but because you’re healing in silence, rebuilding your strength in a language only your soul understands.”
There are days when I have to remind myself again and again in the chaos of work, family, relationships, and being a dog mom, that I don’t have to be anything right now. Just being is more than enough. And it’s not that I’m a strong soul now and nothing hampers me anymore, that’s not the case. There are days, even when life gets okay, that my body still carries grief, fear, and fatigue from years of surviving on alert. But what’s different now is that I finally have space to feel the things I never had the time or permission to feel before. That reminds me I’m also human, and healing, of course, isn’t linear. Sometimes, it feels like this:
You’re in a safe, warm house now. But there are still echoes from the cold nights you survived. When it rains outside, you remember how it felt to be exposed. That’s what this is.
(Rainy days make it easier to put my feelings into words, sometimes with a little poetry, sometimes with a few tears.)
I also resonate with this dialogue from the latest Superman movie that softened something inside me: “That’s where you’ve always been wrong about me, Lex. I’m as human as anyone. I love, I get scared. I wake up every morning, and even when I don’t know what to do, I put one foot in front of the other. I make mistakes, I fall, but that’s what it means to be human. And that’s my greatest strength.” The moment I heard those words, I felt them deeply. Because that’s exactly how I feel as a survivor. People often look at me and say, “Wow, you’re so strong.” And while I appreciate it, I don’t always see myself that way. I don’t wake up every morning feeling brave or invincible. Some days I wake up with fears, doubts, and the weight of memories I wish I could forget. But like Superman says, being human means feeling it all: love, fear, uncertainty, and still choosing to take the next step. I stumble, I make mistakes, I question myself, but I keep moving forward. And maybe that’s where real strength lies, not in never breaking, but in finding the courage to rise again, no matter how many times life knocks you down.
There’s so much noise around me, always trying to shape what I think, how I feel, and even how I show up. Some days, it feels almost impossible to just be myself. I know the desire to fit in is human, but I also know that real belonging can’t come if it means losing pieces of who I truly am. And this is what I so often forget: I’m still a work in progress, still learning and unlearning every single day. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to write this blog. But if there’s one thing I’m really trying to say through these words, it’s this: no matter how loud the noise gets, or how many people try to quiet you down, keep moving forward. Don’t let anyone dim the truth of who you are because you matter, exactly as you are.
For me, survivorship isn’t about perfection or some unshakable strength. It’s about being human in the rawest way possible, messy, vulnerable, imperfect. So, my friend, I’ve come to see myself as a flower. Some flowers bloom all at once, and others open slowly, petal by petal. That’s been my journey. I may take my time, but I will bloom, because I am the kind of flower that still finds a way to grow even after a forest fire. And maybe, just maybe, that’s my strength. I’m learning that it doesn’t matter how long it takes or how messy the process looks. Growth isn’t meant to be rushed. What matters is that I keep showing up for myself, one petal, one breath, one step at a time. And if you’re reading this, maybe you need the reminder too: you are still becoming, still unfolding, still worthy — exactly as you are today. The world needs your bloom, in your own time, in your own way.
To all the beautiful humans out there, I’ll end this blog with a quote that is close to my heart:
“If you were reading a book where you could never turn back a page, you’d slow down, pay attention, and savour each moment — knowing you only get to live it once. Life is the same: you can’t flip back to yesterday, you can only be here fully, while your story is still unfolding.”
Sending lots of love, hope, courage, and strength — until next time. ♥
