"From surviving to thriving: My journey"

For years, I didn’t realize I was just surviving. I thought what I was doing—waking up exhausted, pushing through the day on autopilot, smiling when expected—was normal. I believed that everyone felt like this: numb, disconnected, and quietly overwhelmed. I didn’t know there was another way to live, because surviving was all I had ever known.

I wasn’t falling apart in an obvious way. I went to work, kept up appearances, replied to messages with the usual “I’m good, just busy,” and kept moving. But beneath the surface, I was drowning. Every day felt like I was carrying an invisible weight that no one could see. I was functioning, but I wasn’t living. I wasn’t present in my own life.

The turning point wasn’t dramatic. There was no single event that forced me to change. It was actually a quiet moment—one I’ll never forget. I was sitting in my car after work, staring at the steering wheel, and I realized I had no memory of the day. Not one conversation, not one laugh, not one meaningful moment. It scared me. I was watching life pass me by, and I wasn’t even in the passenger seat—I was somewhere in the trunk, shut away and silent.

That moment broke something open in me.

I realized that I had been moving through life in survival mode, and survival mode had stolen years of my joy, energy, and identity. It wasn’t that I was weak or ungrateful—I was simply burned out, emotionally drained, and carrying years of unspoken pain. I knew I couldn’t continue like this. I wanted more. I needed more.

So I started small. I reached out to a therapist. That one step was terrifying, but it was also the beginning of everything. I walked into that first session with my guard up and my voice shaky. I didn’t know how to explain how I felt. But I didn’t need to have the perfect words—just showing up was enough.

Therapy wasn’t a quick fix, and healing didn’t come all at once. There were setbacks and painful realizations. There were weeks when I felt like giving up. But slowly, piece by piece, I started reclaiming parts of myself I had lost. I allowed myself to feel—really feel—without judgment. I cried, got angry, forgave myself, and started to unlearn all the lies I’d believed about who I had to be.

I also learned that surviving had once been necessary. It was my mind and body doing their best to protect me in a world that didn’t always feel safe. But surviving wasn’t meant to be permanent. It was supposed to be a bridge—not a destination.

One of the most important lessons I learned was about self-worth. I had spent years tying my value to productivity, to making other people comfortable, to shrinking myself so others didn’t feel threatened. But in therapy, I started to see that I was worthy of rest. Worthy of peace. Worthy of joy—not because I earned it, but because I existed.

As I healed, my life began to change in ways I never expected. I found joy in small things again—watching the sunrise, listening to music, writing without an audience. I started saying “no” without guilt. I began surrounding myself with people who made me feel safe, seen, and supported. I let go of toxic expectations and started setting boundaries that honored my growth.

The road from darkness to light wasn’t straight. There were days I stumbled, days I questioned everything. But I never gave up. Each step forward was a quiet rebellion against the life I had accepted for far too long. And eventually, I looked around and realized I was no longer just surviving—I was thriving.

Thriving doesn’t mean I’m always happy. It doesn’t mean my life is perfect. It means I’m present. It means I choose myself, over and over, with intention and love. It means I have the tools to handle hard days without losing myself.

If you’re in the dark right now, please hear this: you are not alone. You don’t have to stay where you are. Healing is possible—even if it feels out of reach. And you don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to start. One step. One breath. One moment of believing that your story can change.

I’m living proof that it can.

From surviving to thriving—it’s not a straight path, but it’s a journey worth taking. And every step toward the light is a victory.