This horrible experience taught me about my own strength and resilience. I started focused on my own happiness and personal development.”I won’t let this define me,” I assured myself. “I will move forward.” I picked up new activities, reconnected with old acquaintances, and began taking care of myself in ways I hadn’t done before. Every day was a step toward recovery.
I joined a yoga class, which I had always wanted to do. The physical activity cleared my head and provided me with much-needed peace.I also started journaling, pouring out my emotions on the pages.
It was therapeutic, a method to digest what had transpired. Writing about my journey helped me see my own power and the improvements I had made. I began going to therapy sessions, which gave professional advice and support. My therapist guided me through my emotions and helped me recover my self-esteem. “You’re stronger than you think,” she’d frequently say.
I slowly began to believe her.I was looking forward to new beginnings and boundless possibilities. The suitcase, which had once meant sadness, had now come to represent my tenacity and courage.
