The Path I Was Meant to Walk

I stayed up late again, scrolling through reels on my phone. I know it isn’t healthy, but lately, I’ve realized there’s a reason behind everything. Even my algorithm has changed — from those overly romantic clips to things that actually feel real and relatable.

Every year, every month, every single day, I find myself questioning the Creator. Why this path? Why do I have to deal with everything alone? Why can’t I just have things the way others do? Why does everything have to come the hard way, even the smallest things?

I’ve tried to make sense of it. I’ve tried to look at it positively, but I often fail. Sometimes I feel like this whole process is slowly killing my softness, the part of me that used to love so easily, feel so deeply. It’s like the warmth I once carried in my heart is fading away. I feel hollow, detached, unable to stand even a single person.

And then the questions get louder. How is any of this helping me grow? How is it making me a better person?

Eventually, I cut everyone off, the small bits of help, the few pieces of support I had. I stopped going to therapy. I distanced myself from friends. I convinced myself I didn’t care about anyone anymore, and for a while, that felt true.

But then came the panic and sleepless nights of October 31st and November 1st, those nights forced me to face myself again. This time, I tried to make sense of everything without leaning on anyone else. No therapist, no friends, just me.

That’s when I realized something. Maybe there are two kinds of paths in life. One isn’t easier, just different. People on that path face their challenges too, but theirs comes with the prize in hand. They learn as they progress. Their lessons unfold naturally, without breaking them completely.

And then there are people like me, whose lessons come in waves heavier, longer, and harder to digest. We fall apart before we understand the meaning behind it all.

Growing up, I didn’t understand this. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to see a pattern — the Creator and the universe always prepare me for the worst before giving me something worth having.

When it comes to love, for example, I haven’t met the right person. I met all the wrong ones, saw all the different faces people wear. Maybe that was so I could understand what love isn’t, before I find what love truly is.

When it came to moving abroad, nothing happened easily either. The struggles weren’t world-shattering, but they were enough to shape me. And now, with this licensing process, it’s the same. Nothing is handed to me without a storm first.

My path is about losing and experiencing before receiving.

And yet, despite everything, I know I haven’t lost the softness inside me. I realized that one day when I sat beside a dog and felt that warm rush in my heart again, that gentle, wholesome feeling that fills you up for no reason. It was proof that my heart still knows how to feel.

Even when people have done cruel, below-the-belt things to me, I’ve caught myself wondering, “What would I have done in their place?” And every time, the answer is the same, not that. Not cruelty. Not spite. I would still choose kindness.

My heart isn’t heavy anymore. But I do carry a sense of responsibility that maybe I was meant to experience everything deeply before being given the good parts of life. So that when they come, I’ll be ready. I won’t take them for granted.

Maybe this is what growth looks like.

Maybe this is the path I was meant to walk.