The Quiet Return to who I was

There are days when I feel a faint pull from deep within me, quiet and almost shy, like a child gently tapping my shoulder with a question, or a pain that’s lingered so long she’s been carrying it for years. I used to ignore her and go on with my life, convincing myself everything would be fine. It never was.

Healing has a way of circling back to the places we abandoned.

I’m learning to sit with myself and reflect on who I was—to listen, to let my voice come through the pain, and to navigate those emotions. I’ve realized that old memories aren’t just moments from the past; they’re also places that ached and needed closure. Sometimes in life, we won’t get closure from others, but at the very least, we can find some closure within ourselves. And, that is the most thing that most of us, in this life need more than anything: closure from ourselves.

I experienced a lot of anxiety growing up, and it was worse in my twenties. My twenties were definitely messy! I never chose a type of softness for myself, where I can be my true authentic self. I was always running about this whole people pleasing phase in my life. I wasn't perfect, I was far from perfect. I did things for love, never because I was loved. As the saying goes:

• Do things for love, because you are loved: Genuine connections, a mutual bond.
• Do things for love, to be loved: People pleasing.

It’s sad, because much of my life was spent conforming just to feel loved. It began at home, where being myself or challenging belief systems only created more friction. It became a personal struggle, knowing that speaking up would push me further from my parents, who held on to their own traditional values that clashed with my view: love is love, and everyone matters.

I am sure both my parents, agree with those sentiments to some degree, but they always came off as this "bigoted" mess. It clashed with my own beliefs, religion often becomes "lost in the sauce". Because some people will "cherry pick" and alter what the Bible means, or what it means to be a Christian. Religion is supposed to be a tool, to promote your own self-healing, and journey to peace. It was never intended to segregate others. So why do people act like that way? Its simple, because people want to believe whatever perception they want to. And its dated to old history, where people choose a narrative for these religious passages, and pass it on for centuries. For example? Heck some religious groups, think its ungodly like to eat meat, and not just on certain days-EVERYDAY! Its all perception, and opinions, that people adopt as their own, and make it the one true law. It isn't. 

That's where I struggled in life. I was living in a home where I didn’t feel safe expressing myself. Heck, I wasn’t even allowed to wear black nail polish or show any interest in goth aesthetics.

College was hard for me, I continuously tried to carve a future for myself. As well as jumping over mental health hurdles, as well as the pressure when it came to society and its social norms. I tried to fit in and be a part of groups. I even went so low, to doing things I did not agree with. It was out of character for me, to be foul sometimes, but hey I did that just to feel like I belonged somewhere.

As I grow into my early 30s, I’ve realized I don’t need “people” or so-called “friends” who force me to follow their norms just to be accepted. I needed myself, more than ever.

I had to cut ties with a lot of people, even if it meant my phone stayed empty. It was better to have fewer messages than a bunch full of drama and insecure projections from so-called “friends” who constantly acted like I didn’t care. It felt like I had to “perform” just to prove I did care, and I hated it. All for what? To be called sensitive or overly emotional, labels they only threw at me whenever I stood my ground against being treated with disrespect.

I became happier. 

I attracted, healthier friendships, and even rekindled older friendships that transcended into growth with me. 

My goal is to build a life I won’t look back on with regret, but one with a stronger foundation to keep improving.

Healing isn't a finish line, it's like a never-ending rhythm. Somedays it feels like I am blooming, and then some days it feels like I am that child just crying, just always crying. Its okay, because the best thing about life, is that you can always take steps into who you are becoming. 

I can outgrow the versions of myself, that felt like I wasn't good enough. 

I do not have to rush who I want to become. 

I can develop new mindsets, change my mind about people, places or things.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Always checking in-healthy reflection!

Lots of people talk about reflection, and the kind of reflection that I often like to do is to keep myself “in check”. I say that with a humble chuckle, in the back of my mind, because it sure is challenging to keep myself from spiraling into those intrusive thoughts! 😅

As you may know dear reader, I suffer from severe depression.

🌿 When Your World Quietly Shrinks

There was a time when my anxiety felt… manageable. Not pleasant, not easy, but familiar — like background noise I’d learned to live with. Half my life was spent navigating generalized anxiety, and even with a diagnosis, I still found ways to move through the world.

But things shifted after I lost my job at Walmart.

It wasn’t just the paycheck or the routine that disappeared. It was the constant hum of human contact — the small talk at the registers, the coworkers you nod to in the break room, the customers who remind you that the world is bigger than your living room. I didn’t realize how much those tiny interactions kept me tethered until they were gone.

Working from home should have felt like a break, but instead it became a kind of quiet collapse. My social world didn’t vanish overnight; it just slowly thinned out, like a plant that stopped getting sunlight. Days blurred together. Conversations dwindled. And the anxiety that once had outlets — movement, noise, people — suddenly had nowhere to go.

It’s strange how isolation sneaks up on you. One day you’re fine, and the next you’re wondering when your life got so small.

Losing that job didn’t just change my schedule. It changed the shape of my days, the rhythm of my thoughts, and the way I connect with the world. And I’m still learning how to rebuild from that — gently, intentionally, and without blaming myself for being human in a season that demanded too much silence.

Where do, I go from here?

 Caregiving is meaningful, but it can also be consuming. And when your home becomes your workplace, your sanctuary, and your duty station all at once, it’s easy to forget that you’re allowed to step outside of it.

But here’s the thing I keep reminding myself: There is always a door.

A door, that I am not quite fond of. I somehow became desensitized to the outside world, including my own personal spaces. Perhaps that is depression in a nutshell, and the irony saying that as if I am not familiar with depressions grip. 

I know depression well. I know how it can make me feel isolated from the world, even from the spaces that once felt safe. But that’s the thing — depression makes me feel like I don’t have a safe space at all, not even among the people I consider close to me. Maybe it’s because depression convinces me that I’m completely alone. That no one is coming to find me in this deep hole in the ground.

Ever seen Maid? Yeah — that hole. That’s where I am. 

It’s dark. It’s cold. And the voices above me are muffled, like they’re coming from another world. My body feels paralyzed. I try to move, to reach out, to engage with others, but all I manage is the smallest motion. It’s like I’m trapped inside this body, this brain that feels void of life, functioning only on the bare chemical processes that keep me alive.

Breathe you out

 

"We were driving along

But it felt like I was alone

Cause you and I weren't right

You can cut me out with a knife."

Breathe you out by Killa Kawaii