Tag: mental health

There’s this quote I keep coming back to:

“Remember why you started.”

I don’t even remember where I first heard it — maybe a book, maybe Pinterest, maybe I’m misquoting The Lion King — but it’s been sitting with me lately. Heavy in the best and hardest way.

I started this blog nearly six years ago with a simple but powerful goal: to bring hope and happiness into a world that often makes it hard to believe in either. Not because I had everything figured out — I didn’t then, and I still don’t — but because I knew I wasn’t alone in the mess. I knew there were others like me, trying to climb out of the same emotional holes over and over again, wondering if joy was ever going to feel real.

I wrote about healing, about reclaiming internal peace, and about being brave enough to feel everything without letting it swallow me whole. Back then, I was committed. I had my rituals: journaling, morning meditations, and a daily dose of motivation. I even asked myself every day, “If you had to scale your overall happiness, what would it be?” (For context: 0 = depressed, 10 = excited.) That simple question helped me track my heart, not just my habits.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped.

When Did I Let Go of Myself?

By “lately,” I mean the better part of five years. That’s how long I’ve spent quietly — sometimes unknowingly — drifting away from that version of me. The one who was trying. The one who had hope. The one who knew healing took daily work and still showed up anyway.

Life didn’t just happen — it kept happening. Emotion after emotion, loss after loss, disappointment after disappointment. Like waves that never gave me enough time to catch my breath. And during all of it, I did what I thought I had to do: I survived. I put out emotional fires. I stayed busy. I told myself I was “fine.”

But in the chaos, I stopped checking in with myself.

I stopped writing in my gratitude journal.

I stopped meditating in the morning.

I stopped reading those little sticky notes of encouragement I used to keep on my phone.

And without even realizing it, I stopped asking myself that daily question:

Where’s your happiness at today?

The truth? Most days now, I wouldn’t even know how to answer.

When Did I Let My Insecurities Win?

It wasn’t a big, dramatic unraveling. It was quiet. Subtle. Almost unnoticeable — until I looked up one day and realized I didn’t recognize myself.

I let the insecurities creep back in.

I started doubting my voice.

I shrunk myself around people who didn’t ask me to, but I assumed I had to.

I convinced myself that I had to prove something to be enough — to earn rest, love, or even joy.

And my overall mental mood? It’s been… bad. That’s the honest answer. I’ve been stuck in a fog of frustration, sadness, and emotional exhaustion — so deep that it became my new normal. And I forgot that it’s not who I am.

But Here’s the Thing: I Noticed. And That Matters.

Today, I’m not writing because I’m on the other side of it all. I’m writing because I noticed how far I’ve drifted from myself — and that’s the first, hardest, most important step in finding my way back.

I remembered why I started this blog.

I remembered how deeply I want to live with joy and purpose — not just autopilot.

And I remembered that happiness isn’t something we find; it’s something we create. It’s something we practice.

Happiness Isn’t a Destination — It’s a Direction

No, life still isn’t where I want it to be. And some days, that still hurts. But here’s the difference: I’m starting to see that “not there yet” doesn’t mean “nowhere.” I’ve grown. Quietly. Messily. Slowly. But I’ve grown.

I’ve learned that I don’t need to arrive at some perfect version of happiness to keep moving toward it. Joy doesn’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes, it looks like:

• Dragging myself out of bed and into clean clothes.
• Drinking water before coffee.
• Taking a walk in silence — no music, no podcast — just my breath and the pavement.
• Reminding myself that I don’t need permission to be who I already am.

Progress Isn’t Linear — And That’s Okay

I used to think healing meant I’d never feel anxious or low again. But healing is really about feeling those things and still showing up and still caring for yourself. Still letting yourself believe in better days — even when you’re not living one yet.

Depression taught me stillness, but it also showed me how dangerous it can be to sit in it too long. I don’t want just to exist anymore. I want to live — with intention, with softness, with truth.

So here’s the truth: I can be sad and still be at peace.

I can feel uncertain and still be grounded.

I can be a work in progress and still offer something meaningful.

So Here’s My Promise to Myself

Starting now, I will:

• Ask myself again where I’m at on that happiness scale.
• Write down one thing I’m grateful for each day.
• Sit in stillness, even if just for two minutes.
• Challenge the lies my insecurities whisper.
• Stop waiting to be “better” before I allow myself joy.

To Anyone Reading This Who Feels the Same Way

If you’ve worked hard on your healing and still feel like you’ve slipped backward — you’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re just human.

Healing isn’t linear. Growth isn’t perfect. But the fact that you want better for yourself — that you’re reading this, still showing up in your own quiet ways — that matters.

You don’t need to have everything figured out.

You don’t need to be at a ten to appreciate being at a six.

You don’t need to wait for life to be perfect to live it with love.

Just take one small step today to move toward the life you want.

Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s slow.

Just keep going.

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Let this post be a reminder to both of us:

You’re allowed to begin again.