Finding Light: A Story of Coming Home

You know that little voice inside that whispers “something’s not quite right”? I lived with it for years. While everyone saw me smiling at the school pickup line or presenting at meetings, inside I was carrying a weight that felt too heavy to name.

I was that kid who asked big questions about life when others were playing hopscotch. That curiosity led me somewhere unexpected – it became my lifeline when things got dark. Through a back injury that left me feeling broken, relationship storms that shook my foundation, and losses that carved empty spaces in my heart, those childhood questions kept whispering: “There’s more to this story.”

And there was.

Healing found me in surprising places. Sometimes it was in a therapy room, learning to be gentle with myself. Other times it was in quiet moments of meditation, or in circles of women sharing stories that echoed my own. I discovered that healing isn’t about fixing what’s broken – it’s about remembering who you were before you thought you needed fixing.

Today, when I guide others through their own shadows, I see myself in their eyes – that mix of fear and hope, that longing to feel whole again. I tell them what I wish someone had told me: your broken pieces aren’t ugly, they’re where the light gets in.

This journey taught me something beautiful: we heal in layers, like petals opening to the sun. Some days are for gentle whispers of self-love, others for brave steps into new territory. But every step, every tear, every moment of choosing yourself – it all matters.

You matter.

And if you’re reading this, carrying your own silent battles, know that there’s room here for your story too. Because sometimes the greatest healing happens when we simply know we’re not alone in the dark.