Lately, I’ve been questioning my reactions; the moments I become unkind, the times I lash out, and the anger that rises before I fully understand it. I keep asking myself what truly sits beneath those emotions.
Is it because I value some people more than others, or because I unconsciously lower my standards for certain people? Or is it that sometimes I’m actually angry at myself, for what I allow, for what I tolerate, for what I stay silent about?
Maybe I excuse behavior from some that I would never tolerate from others. Maybe I give grace selectively. Maybe I expect more from the people I love, and less from those I already don’t trust. And maybe that’s where the conflict lives. When you value someone deeply, their actions carry more weight and their disappointments feel heavier. But when you expect less from someone, their behavior doesn’t shock you; it simply confirms what you already believed.
It’s an uncomfortable realization, but an honest one. It forces self-awareness, accountability, and reflection, and helps me understand myself. Growth isn’t only about becoming softer; sometimes it’s about becoming more aware, more intentional, and more honest about who I give access to my emotions, my reactions, and my forgiveness.
Growth can be lonely. You notice subtle distance, fading patterns, quiet resistance. And you wonder: Am I changing too much? Am I leaving people behind?
It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t come with applause. It starts internally, a decision you make with yourself, for yourself. A moment where something inside you shifts and you realize: I can’t keep being who I was.
That decision is powerful… but also heavy.
Once you decide to evolve, things start changing around you, too. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just slowly. People begin to fall away. Conversations change. Connections feel different. Energy shifts. The spaces you once fit into no longer feel like home.
And that part hurts.
No one really prepares you for the grief of outgrowing people who are still alive. For the sadness of realizing that not everyone is meant to walk the next version of your journey with you. Some people were meant for survival seasons. Some for learning seasons. Some for healing seasons. But not all of them are meant for your becoming.
And that’s hard to accept.
Growth can be lonely. You notice subtle distance, fading patterns, quiet resistance. And you wonder: Am I changing too much? Am I leaving people behind?
The truth: evolution isn’t about abandoning people. It’s about alignment. Not everyone wants to grow, and you can’t dim your light to make others comfortable.
So yes, people may slowly drift from your life. But that’s not all lost; it’s space for what truly matters. For relationships and energy that match who you are now, not who you were.
In that quiet shedding, there is clarity, honesty, and freedom. Painful, definitely; but necessary. Evolution doesn’t ask for comfort. It asks for truth. And choosing growth is choosing yourself.
It was uncomfortable to admit, but necessary. Because help given from depletion creates resentment. Support given from imbalance creates emotional debt. And care given without reciprocity slowly turns into self-abandonment
Some pain is loud and obvious. Other pain is quiet. It lives in small moments, repeated patterns, and silent realisations. The kind that doesn’t come from betrayal or conflict, but from noticing imbalance.
It comes from always being the one who shows up. From always being the one who checks in. From always being the one who adjusts. From always being the one who understands. From always being the one who gives.
And slowly realising that the same energy is not returned.
She was that person. Reliable. Present. Emotionally available. The one people leaned on. The one people called. The one people expected to be there. Not because she was closest, but because she was consistent.
Over time, she began to notice the pattern. Being the one who always initiates. Being the one who keeps relationships alive. Being the one who maintains the connection. Being the one who carries emotional labour. And a quiet question formed: why do I go so far for people who barely meet me halfway?
It wasn’t loud rejection. It wasn’t direct abandonment. It was something more subtle, the feeling of being replaceable. Not unwanted. Not disliked. Just easily substituted. The kind of feeling that builds slowly through repeated experiences of emotional imbalance.
What she didn’t understand at first was that the issue was never her heart. It was her placement. She was offering depth to people who lived on the surface. Consistency for people who live in convenience. Loyalty to people who are attached casually. Emotional safety for people who didn’t know how to protect it.
Because she was always there, her presence became expected. Her effort became normal. Her support became assumed. Her loyalty became invisible. Not because it had no value, but because it had no boundaries.
Somewhere along the way, she had learned that connection comes from effort, from being useful, from being needed, from being strong, from being supportive, and from being accommodating. So giving became a way to secure closeness, not a response to healthy reciprocity.
The shift didn’t come from anger. It came from awareness.
She began to notice something else, too, an inner conflict. The feeling of having to force herself to show up. The hesitation before helping. The pause before assisting. The quiet question of whether her giving was still genuine or was becoming anobligation.
She had often found herself holding on too long, hoping things would change, waiting for the wheels to keep turning, even when she felt like she was running on empty. There had been a quiet, dangerous voice in her head that whispered maybe she deserved the way she was being treated, maybe being undervalued was just how things were for her. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t the trut it was a habit of the mind, a shadow from past hurts trying to make sense of the pain. She reminded herself that no one ever deserved mistreatment, and that choosing to honour her worth was not selfish; it was survival, courage, and a refusal to let someone else define her value.
She started rethinking her help. Not from bitterness, but from honesty. Asking herself hard questions: Would this person be there for me if I needed them? Is this support mutual or one-sided? Am I helping from love, or am I hoping for future return? Am I giving freely, or am I investing emotionally in people who may never invest back?
It was uncomfortable to admit, but necessary. Because help given from depletion creates resentment. Support given from imbalance creates emotional debt. And care given without reciprocity slowly turns into self-abandonment.
She stopped giving automatically. She started giving consciously.
She stopped forcing generosity. She started choosing it.
She stopped helping as a reflex. She started helping as a decision.
She stopped chasing closeness. She stopped proving her value. She started observing effort instead of words. She started matching energy instead of exceeding it. Not to punish anyone. Not to harden herself. But to protect herself.
Slowly, something changed. She realised she wasn’t replaceable; she was misplaced. She had been pouring herself into spaces that couldn’t hold her depth.
When she started choosing environments that could, the feeling of invisibility began to fade. Not because she became louder, but because she became more selective. Not because she gave more, but because she gave wisely.
She didn’t need to love less. She needed to love smarter. She didn’t need to shrink. She needed to redirect her energy. She didn’t need to harden. She needed discernment.
For her, the hardest part of the journey wasn’t only the betrayal or the trauma she endured; it was the rejection that followed. Instead of support, understanding, or empathy, she often faced disbelief, blame, and silence. Those she hoped would stand by her looked away, leaving her questioning herself, her worth, and whether she could ever truly trust anyone again.
There were moments when she felt invisible in her own story, as though her pain didn’t matter, as though her voice was not allowed. She wrestled with doubt and confusion, wondering if she had done something to deserve the isolation, the cold shoulders, the quiet exclusion. Yet, in the depths of that loneliness, she began to understand something vital: rejection after trauma is never a reflection of the person who suffered it. It reflects others’ fear, discomfort, and unwillingness to face difficult truths. Their inability to validate, acknowledge, or support her said far more about them than it ever could about her.
Some of that rejection had roots long before adulthood. Childhood experiences of being dismissed, ignored, or unheard echoed through her life in subtle but powerful ways. She found herself reading deeply into what people said and did, overanalyzing gestures, silences, and tones, wondering if she had somehow caused disapproval or distance.
There were times she stayed silent when she needed to speak, swallowing her truth to avoid conflict, judgment, or abandonment. And then there were times she spoke out when she didn’t need to; as if years of silence had created an urgency to assert herself, to claim space she once believed she was not allowed to occupy. She came to see that these were not flaws, but survival patterns; shaped by a life spent learning how to navigate a world that had once made her feel powerless and unseen.
She had a choice. She could let rejection define her, cement her feelings of unworthiness, and keep her trapped in fear and anger. Or she could reclaim her power, her voice, and her story. She chose to rise. She chose to heal. She chose to feel the pain fully, to confront it, and to let it strengthen her rather than break her.
Healing, she learned, is not linear. Some days, the weight of the past feels unbearable. She stumbles, doubts herself, and wishes the pain would fade overnight. Yet other days, she catches herself smiling quietly at her resilience, at the strength it took to survive, to endure, and to face the world again. Every small victory, every step forward, every act of self-love becomes a testament to her courage. Rejection after trauma does not define her; her strength, wisdom, and determination do.
She is allowed to grieve. She is allowed to feel sadness, anger, and fear. She is allowed to question, to stumble, and to cry. And above all, she is allowed to move forward; stronger, wiser, and unbroken.
Her journey stands as a reminder to anyone who has been hurt and then rejected: your pain is valid. Your voice matters. Your story matters. You are worthy of healing, strength, and hope. No one else’s disbelief can diminish your truth. And with each step forward, no matter how small, you reclaim a little more of your power and your light.
And in a way she never expected, rejection became a redirection. From the very spaces that excluded her, she found herself stepping into rooms she would never have imagined, receiving invitations she would never have accessed before. Invitations to speak. Invitations to be heard. Invitations to stand in spaces of justice, advocacy, and truth. What once silenced her began to position her. What once rejected her began to redirect her purpose.
Lately, she has found herself reflecting deeply on the meaning of healing. In one way or another, everyone seems to be on their own journey, herself included. Healing from childhood wounds, from an abusive relationship, from a good relationship lost through self-sabotage, or from the weight of a toxic work environment. Healing, it seems, touches almost every corner of life. Yet one question lingers in her heart: what does healing truly mean?
As she works through childhood trauma and patterns of self-sabotage, she often wonders what healing might really look like for her. Does it mean looking back at the past and pretending it never existed? Or does it mean facing that past and finally asking herself the difficult questions she has long avoided? Perhaps it is admitting that she has been standing in her own way all along making the wrong decisions again and again, while expecting different results. Still, she asks: what is healing?
Could healing mean taking everything head-on? Confronting the people who let her down when she needed them most, and challenging the very systems that have consistently failed others? Still, the question returns: what is healing?
The unhealed version of her was a bitter, angry little girl who never believed anyone could genuinely love or care for her. She had never experienced true love or care, as they had never been extended to her. It all began when her own family rejected her, and she came to see that rejection as the norm. If her own family could turn against her, what could the world possibly owe her love, kindness?
As the saying goes, hurt people hurt people, and she was no exception. She carried the guilt of wounding those who truly cared for her. Whenever someone tried to offer her genuine love and compassion, it only stirred feelings of disdain, pushing them away before they could get close. Her hurt had translated into a deep sense of insecurity and a lack of self-worth. Confidence was never taught to her when there was still time to nurture such skills. And the truth is, it is hard to teach yourself confidence; it is difficult to learn to love yourself when you have no one to emulate, when the very people closest to you seem to loathe your existence.
According to her, this justified the disdain she felt toward the love that was genuinely offered love she never truly believed existed, even though it was always staring her in the eyes.
She was empty of love and had no one left to turn to. Survival became her only focus, and living was all she could think about. Yet that very survival mindset carried her through and made it possible for her to be where she is today.
Many have told her to let the past go and bury it behind her. But what if her past is the very thing that fuels her to become her better self? To her, forgiving and forgetting is not freedom it is a betrayal of herself.
Today, she is slowly learning to work through her insecurities and rebuild her sense of self-worth. It is not an easy journey teaching herself the confidence she was never shown, unlearning the lies she once believed about her value, and allowing herself to receive the love she once rejected. For her, healing is not about erasing the past but about reshaping it into strength. Piece by piece, she is discovering that she is worthy of love, of kindness, and of the life she once thought was beyond her reach.
And perhaps that is what healing truly means to her choosing not to live by other people’s narratives, embracing life unapologetically, and learning how to move forward without the apology she long awaited but never received.
In the African communal living context, it’s common for families to exhibit unique traits that distinguish them from one another, even across different regions. Homes are typically classified based on their financial status or the possessions brought in by their owners compared to yours.
Your homestead might be known as the affluent family, revered by other households whenever one of you passes by—the epitome of wealth that every family aspires to attain. The following family might represent the typical household, where members hold average jobs and live with average standards. Another family nearby could be notorious for its heavy drinkers and disruptive behavior, known for their lively gatherings which often end with little good to be said. Across the street, there might be a family plagued by poverty, where children trek to school with worn out hand-me-downs and cracked feet so severe that a coin could be hidden in the cracks. Yet, everyone shares a common fear of the house downhill, rumored to be inhabited by a witch. It’s a dwelling never to be directly pointed at, one hurried past with no whistle, and never leisurely strolled by.
We all knew that boy who was full of joy and innocence, always eager to spend time anywhere but his own home. Only he knew why he preferred other households, where, despite often being given errands to run, he was provided with basic necessities. He received hand-me-downs in perfect condition from the neighbor’s son, a piece of bread at breakfast, and occasionally, he was even allowed to join them on outings.
We all knew the girl whom the community had little faith in, expecting nothing more from her than to finish primary education and then marry off. Misunderstanding her curiosity and need for love, they wrongly labeled her as an attention-seeking delinquent who would ruin not only her own life but also the lives of those around her. They would whisper quietly behind her back and laugh openly at her, disguising their mockery with laughter in her presence. Meanwhile, her peers’ parents privately warned their children to steer clear of her.
Now you see, the power of being genuine and true to oneself, regardless of how others treat you, stems from the innocence one carries through life. Often, children are unaware of why those around them behave the way they do, especially when faced with varying financial struggles and complex family dynamics. God grants the disadvantaged the ability to see opportunities that the advantaged often overlook. They are endowed with extraordinary strength to work a little harder. They become visionaries, seeing a future that is unimaginable to others. Their dreams bring hope, and they cling to the hope to forge their own paths shape their destinies and be the first in their families do so. Some might even label them delusional.
In hindsight, I realize the truth in the saying that God only gives you what you can handle. The young boy now owns his own firm, where villagers come seeking employment for their children and grandchildren. He has become the poster boy for success. Some of the families who were once affluent seek advice on matters they themselves struggle to comprehend, offering him a seat at their table as an equal when he no longer seeks merely a seat.
If he hadn’t endured a journey that many deemed embarrassing, he wouldn’t have developed the ambition to shape his future by holding onto the values instilled in him by his poverty-stricken family. He would not have realized that his past does not define his success.
I was one of those children dealing with complex family dynamics. From the outside, it might have seemed like I had everything, but as the saying goes, still waters run deep.
One of the factors contributing to my unmarried status at above 30 is the absence of healthy marital examples in my life. Throughout my years, I’ve encountered more tumultuous cohabitations than I can recount. The sheer volume of such experiences could fill countless volumes. And as you can imagine this hasn’t excited me for the married status yet.
I can recount numerous stories, such as witnessing a man engaging in nightly battles with his wife upon returning home drunk, subjecting her to not only physical abuse but also verbal assaults filled with disparaging remarks about her personality, character, and history, and even resorting to hurtful comments about her physical appearance. Another instance involves observing a woman enduring a life of shame by remaining married to a predator, who is a molester, pedophile, and rapist, all in an attempt to maintain some semblance of status within her family and or society. However, the most common scenario I’ve encountered repeatedly is women being disenfranchised from their rightful place at the table, often through job loss as a request from their husbands and consequent powerlessness in marriages they had entered expecting partnership.
While some may downplay it as merely a slap across the face, asserting it’s not sufficient grounds for me to leave, those with sound judgment would firmly believe that it marked the onset of a potentially catastrophic future if not addressed promptly.
Besides manipulation, gaslighting, and fear of further abuse, financial dependency is a primary factor that renders women trapped in abusive relationships, regardless of their awareness of their unhappiness and the gradual toll it takes on their well-being. Even worse abusers often isolate their victims from friends, family, and support networks, leaving them feeling alone and without a way out. And I assure you, not everyone possesses the resilience to venture alone.
Before meeting her husband, she held a lucrative job and saw herself as an independent woman, diligently earning her rent, food, clothing, fuel, insurance, entertainment, and savings. However, upon meeting her partner, he pledged a monthly stipend that would cover her personal grooming expenses and provide funds for her social groups, along with a small amount for her parents. Regrettably, she took the offer and abruptly quit her job, placing her trust in someone she believed would provide her with everything she desired.
As her husband continued to attend work and progress in his career, thereby ascending in social status, he began encountering new acquaintances within his “circle” who could now enhance his recently attained position and reputation. The woman he once considered the epitome of beauty, not only his partner but also his favorite companion when exploring new dining spots or spending time with friends, became a source of embarrassment to him.
She assumed the role of household manager, focusing solely on maintaining cleanliness and order in their home, overseeing the children’s schooling and extracurricular activities, managing family gatherings, and instilling in them the teachings of Jesus Christ.
Financial success exacerbated the power imbalance in this relationship, which led to misuse of power and control over his wife. Granted sometimes the opposite is true, in this experience, the wife is at a disadvantage. Her Husband lets his newly inflated ego which leads to arrogance, dominance, and belittlement towards his once love of his wife.
Diminishment, absence of empathy, and skewed priorities resulted in the husband engaging in conflicts with his wife, while simultaneously inflicting lasting emotional wounds on his children, necessitating eventual intervention to address the ensuing trauma, for those fortunate enough to receive assistance.
Indeed, when he strikes you once, he demonstrates his physical dominance over you and asserts his belief that he can act without your consent, exerting control over you whenever he pleases. When you feel the impact of that slap on your face, it should immediately trigger awareness of the potential for future instances of domestic abuse.
I’m determined not to let this become my narrative, especially after witnessing variations of it throughout my life for so long.
Boundaries do not only dictate where two countries or two continents or two homesteads border but they also define where a person draws a line between themselves and the relationships around them. They dictate when to say no as everyone else screams at you to say yes and give the same person permission to dive into a higher level of intimacy than a normal person would perceive normal.
Over time, I’ve noticed the boundary between my personal limits and my true self has become less distinct. There are instances when my gut tells me to say no, but I fear disappointing others or being seen as disloyal by those I hold dear. It’s disheartening that not everyone I consider close would reciprocate that sentiment. I’ve grown accustomed to approaching relationships with sincerity, seeking love authentically, yet often finding it’s not reciprocated in the same manner.
My boundaries with friends have been not just blurred, but rather overshadowed by the pursuit of social capital. I’ve invested resources, favors, and supporting those I believed would support me in return, hoping they’d be there when I needed them most. However, it’s become clear that this hope was not a guarantee. This realization has shifted my perspective on life. While it may sound cliché, I now understand that placing trust in myself is the only way to truly control the outcome of my life and above all GOD
What am I trying to say?
Saying yes even when something drains my energy is now a thing of the past.
I acknowledge that transitioning will likely lead to conflicts, but I am committed to addressing these conflicts rather than allowing bitterness and resentment to fester within me. I will no longer overextend myself in an attempt to please others out of fear of disappointing them or witnessing their disappointment. Instead, I will prioritize identifying my own needs, desires, and values, using them as a guide to make decisions that align with my well-being. I refuse to shoulder responsibility for others’ emotions by altering my behavior or character to avoid causing anger or sadness. Usually, when I struggle to comprehend my own emotions, I inadvertently allow other emotions present in the room to take precedence and influence my emotional state.
I am committed to asserting my needs and expressing my opinions within my relationships without hesitation. I refuse to suppress my own desires to fulfill the needs and wants of others. While some may view this as selfishness, I see it as essential self-care for my overall well-being. Previously, I’ve struggled to treat myself to the same level of generosity that I readily extended to others, whether through simple gestures like giving gifts to friends or being resourceful in various ways. When it comes to spending on myself, I’ve often found myself overthinking and second-guessing. It’s worth noting that I’m still grappling with debt, a year later, as a result of splurging on someone close to me out of love. However, reflecting on this, I question whether I would prefer to be in debt for indulging myself instead.
Establishing boundaries when needed will serve as a means of self-care, rather than a display of selfishness or unreasonableness on my part. By prioritizing my overall well-being, I’ll be able to replenish my energy reserves. This will enable me to fully engage in the relationships I’m intentionally nurturing, giving my all – a stark contrast to the partial effort I might have previously offered.
All this to say, extend understanding and grace whenever I respond with a firm NO. As earnestly as I seek grace, I commit to offering the same kindness and understanding when met with a refusal. Admittedly, accepting a “no” has been a personal challenge for me, but I’m striving to cultivate inner peace in such moments, with faith as my guide.
On the 5th of April, mere hours after celebrating my 34th birthday, I embarked on a profound journey. This decision carries immense weight as it marks my departure from a residence I’ve called home for three and a half years. Moreover, it signifies my resolve to shed burdensome habits and behavior that no longer serve me.
I‘ve experienced a whirlwind in every facet of my life. My romantic life is practically non-existent, or rather, it exists but falls short of my expectations. Family dynamics have been strained, and despite efforts to reconcile, I find solace in moving forward without their support and accepting the repercussions from some members. Friendships have evolved; some have naturally drifted apart; a process I embrace. Conversely, others are being consciously rekindled, infusing new meaning into these connections. I’m also cultivating fresh friendships, aiming to reciprocate the positivity I receive, and navigating towards wholesome, purposeful relationships.
No, my work is far from being in disarray, and for that, I’m grateful to God. Since assuming the role of office manager, I’ve never felt more at ease in a position. It seems tailor-made for me. In just a year and a half, I’ve already left my mark and foresee abundant opportunities ahead. Our bosses have fostered one of the most conducive working environments imaginable, leaving nothing more to be desired. Shortly, I plan to return to school. Within six months, I was entrusted with the role of a money laundering reporting officer, a responsibility I’m fully committed to. Additionally, I derive immense satisfaction from overseeing our foundation, which supports a children’s club in education, arts, and sports.
Abusing alcohol is a challenge I’m prepared to confront head-on. I’ve been actively seeking methods to diminish my reliance on alcohol as a coping mechanism. It was a revelation when I admitted aloud that I’ve never remained sober for an entire month since starting college at Cooperative College University. While I cherish my time at Coop, it’s been over a decade, and I’m eager to explore new hobbies to fill the void left by alcohol and rediscover joy in healthier pursuits.
I’m aiming to cultivate interests from my youth, such as writing, reading, painting, and photography, along with newer hobbies like cooking and discovering new restaurants, whether alone or with friends. I’m eager to delve into writing about topics I’m passionate about and find purpose in, sharing my experiences to educate others. I’m overcoming my fear of solo outings, recognizing that waiting for company may lead to missed opportunities. Each month, I’ll maintain a log of my planned activities and whether they come to fruition.
Self-awareness is another subject I’m eager to explore, delving into what motivates me and how I can effectively manage it. I aim to understand and address my triggers, striving to evolve personally for the benefit of those who have consistently shown me unconditional love and understanding. I’m prepared to tackle difficult topics to gain insight into myself and potentially reshape my perspective on life.
My health has taken a turn for the worse; I find myself gasping for breath after just climbing a single flight of stairs as if I’ve just completed a ten-mile run. Additionally, my clothes no longer fit properly. This realization prompts me to consider rebranding myself from the youthful and immature girl I once was to the woman I am evolving into. This transformation encompasses various aspects of my life, including my living situation, wardrobe choices, and how I interact with others.
I established this blog as a channel for creativity, envisioning it as a future platform where individuals can share their life experiences through writing, anonymous storytelling, or both. I anticipate inspiring those who have faced adversity and found ways to persevere and find peace. While I used to wait for success to lend encouragement, I now realize that every breath is an opportunity for success. I am a survivor, and this is my story, whats yours?
At the start of a journey, there’s often an assumption that it will be smooth sailing, filled with rainbows and sunshine until the end. Rarely do we anticipate the unexpected bumps that lie ahead in the path.
With nothing but hope and a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill tucked into her pocket as her emergency fund for the journey, she left. Tears were shed at Logan Airport as she poured out her truth, hoping it would alter her destiny. Everything she once knew now felt like a distant memory, etched into the recesses of her mind with nothing ahead to anticipate. She had no idea where she was headed. Turning away and stepping into what would become a completely new world—her own home, her own family—she cast a final glance back, silently bidding farewell to everything familiar before boarding the plane.
8,521 miles away lay the place where this girl would gather all the fragments and reconstruct her life, rediscovering herself, unintentionally reshaping her identity on her own. In her eyes, nobody comprehended her, nobody showed concern, and nobody offered assistance. The harsh reality seemed to affirm this mindset once she arrived at JKIA at 10 pm on December 1st, 2005.
The reunion with her family proved to be fleeting, as she swiftly became a source of embarrassment to her parents. They had always prided themselves on having a daughter abroad, who they believed would one day elevate their status and bring great honor to the family. Yet there she stood, with only two suitcases, a hefty backpack containing all that she held dear and personal, and a pillow that had absorbed the tears shed during five years of solitary nights. She stood before her father, gazing into his bloodshot eyes, expecting a warm homecoming, a grand reception, but found none. She had nothing to offer—not even a smile or uplifting tales to share.
Two months passed, and with nothing but hope and determination, high school became the sanctuary for this girl. Defending her accent, she struggled to assert her voice as the new girl from a distant land now residing in the village. Navigating through peers who sought to diminish her, and humiliate her way of life, she found solace in love and empathy from others. It was in these meaningful friendships that her character was shaped.
The girl found herself on an emotional roller coaster at times, experiencing a sense of emptiness, rejection, or even betrayal from those around her. She faced an unpredictable and overwhelming transition, devoid of guidance and intensified by its suddenness. Despite the myriad challenges, she had to summon resilience, push through tears, and acknowledge that not all changes are comfortable, especially when they happened so abruptly and unexpectedly.
Maintaining a steadfast belief in her potential to defy the odds, unlike the discouraging statistics she encountered, she held onto hope, faith, and vision. She knew that one day she would emerge victorious, ready to share her story. With change often comes resistance, yet this girl was determined to prevail.
Sometimes, trusting your gut, being courageous, betting on yourself, living according to your reasoning could be the opportunity that you give yourself.
Adjustment disorder( Stress Response Syndrome)
Google defines it as an emotional or behavioral reaction to a stressful event or change in a person’s life. A major life change can cause a short-term condition that happens when you have great difficulty in adjusting to new conditions or environments after a transition. Some of the visible syndromes might include:
Tearfulness (Sadness)
Feelings of hopelessness
Anxiety (nervousness)
Withdrawal or isolation from people and social activities
New and out-of-the-ordinary dangerous or destructive behavior, such as fighting, reckless driving, and vandalism
Abuse of alcohol and or other drugs
Loss of interest in work or activities, or life itself.
Adjustment disorder syndrome symptoms usually begin within the first 3 months and rarely last for more than 6 months. They could easily evolve to a full-blown depression if left untreated.
This girl defied all odds and decided not to play or try to act like the victim she certainly was, but to become a victor in every little way possible in her life. In short, she chose to SURVIVE, against all Odds.
thewhisperofstrength.com 