I Never Thought I’d Be Here

Two and a half years ago, I thought the ground had given way.
I thought I’d never stand again.
I thought life had ended the moment I realized I would be doing this alone.

Back then, okay felt like a far-off country I would never be allowed to enter.
And joy? That felt impossible.

But today—
I have my own place.
I work.
I go to therapy.
I mother, fiercely and tenderly, with my daughter in my arms 99% of the time.

We go on adventures now.
I watch her discover the world,
her laughter rising like sunlight breaking through the cracks of everything I once believed was ruined.
And I realize—
this is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.

I am doing the work.
I am building a life.
I am learning that healing is not loud,
it is steady.
It is sacred.
It is watching yourself shed the anger that once devoured you,
and finding that sadness no longer defines your every day.

Gratitude spills out of me these days.
For the new friends who remind me that I am not alone.
For the old friends who have always held a light for me to find my way back.
For the family—blood and chosen—who anchor me in love.
For love itself, the kind that does not keep me awake at night wondering why I was never enough.
The kind that does not ask me to break myself into pieces just to be worthy of it.

I like it here.
I like myself here.
I feel safe here.

And that—safety—was all I ever asked for.
And somehow, against every odd, I found it.