And yet, in a strange way, routine saved me. Having daily responsibilities forced me to keep going, not just for myself but for those who counted on me. The stakes were too high to give up, even though deep down, I wanted to. For the first time ever, I doubted myself—I questioned whether I had what it takes to win at life. My mind was a battlefield of arguments, but something in me always pushed back. A voice inside reminded me that I didn’t come this far just to quit now. I hadn’t climbed this mountain just to set down my tools before reaching the peak. I have promised myself a beautiful life, and I refuse to give up before I experience its full beauty—even if I don’t yet know what that looks like.
My faith and hope have been my anchors. Even in the darkness, I held on to the belief that the best is yet to come, even if I can’t yet recognize it. This year, I learned to pray not just for strength, but for the wisdom to recognize joy when it finally arrives.
Despite feeling like a complete failure in every aspect of my life, I found the will to keep going. I realized that part of my journey was about overcoming weaknesses, and one of the biggest lessons I learned this year was the importance of grieving—not just for the loss of people but for the loss of love, recognition, and validation. As a society, we grieve for the dead, but we rarely acknowledge the need to grieve for the things we never received—the love we deserved but didn’t get, the efforts we made that went unacknowledged. I had to grieve for the times I felt unseen, unheard, and unloved. But through that grief, I learned to let go and just be.
Another vital lesson I learned is that bottling up pain only leads to an eventual explosion. We are all imperfect, and facing those imperfections has been incredibly liberating for me. So what if I’m not where I thought I would be by now? At least I am here. And my favorite saying remains: better late than never. It’s better to show up today, to learn, to love myself, and to grow into a better version of me than to remain stagnant and continue hurting myself and those around me.
For the longest time, I felt like I had no “receipts” to prove my healing, but I found my first one this year. When I meet new people now, I feel different—I connect more effortlessly, I articulate my thoughts with clarity, and I fear no one. There is a newfound authenticity within me that makes my interactions more meaningful. It’s as if I’ve stepped into the person I was always meant to be. Someone recently described me as “maturing with grace and elegance,” and I think that perfectly sums up the transformation I’ve undergone.
Perhaps my greatest testimony this year is that someone described me as love. That, more than any other compliment I’ve ever received, was the most profound acknowledgment of the person I am becoming.
On the family front, the teenage years are in full swing. Every day brings attitude and underappreciation, but I recognize that this is just part of the journey. I try to remain present and approachable while respecting their individuality. I don’t want to mold them into mini versions of myself—I want to encourage them to be their true selves. There are good days, silent days, and loud, happy days, but one thing remains constant: my presence matters to them. Even when they’re not speaking to me, they want to know I’m there, cooking for them, prioritizing them. And they will always be my top priority.
Yes, this was a difficult year. I struggled, I fell, and I doubted myself. But I made it out alive. And more than that—I emerged stronger. My faith is deeper, my resilience greater, and my understanding of myself clearer than ever before. Growth is never easy; it demands a price. But stagnation is the real enemy. And I am proud to say that, despite everything, I have continued to grow. We gotta keep moving my diamonds and better late than never! Start your healing journey today and enjoy this life from a better healthier place l.
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