It has been a long while since I have uttered up the strength to write and be vulnerable, but I figured no better time than Mental Health Awareness Day. So here we go:
This last year has tested every fiber of my being. It has required me to dive deep into my own self and stop putting others first. It has made me make decisions and changes I was not ready for. It was time to take care of me, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Dark and I became best friends.
There were moments when the darkness didn't just visit — it grabbed ahold of me. Tight. I could feel it in my chest, not catching my breath, the sweaty palms as the sounds in a room became quiet, it was the ache that didn't go away. It caught me in a chokehold. Darkness has a way of convincing us that it’s permanent, but I am finding out that it never truly is permanent.
Life doesn’t always go the way we expect. Trauma leaves scars that people can't see, change uproots us, and sometimes it feels like the world is determined to knock us down. The dark is uncomfortable. It’s where uncertainty lingers, where old wounds echo, and where we can’t see what’s next. But even in the face of pain and uncertainty, I had a choice: I can let it define me, or I can redefine my true self.
I have been going to therapy again, with a change of heart that I was not and will not give up on myself. It has taken me YEARS. Yes, years. Every single week on what I like to call Therapy Thursdays for the last 6 months I have finally faced my darkness head on. Not letting trauma and change win doesn’t mean I'm ignoring the hurt. It doesn’t mean that I am pretending everything is fine. It means I am finally acknowledging the darkness, feeling it fully, and then choosing to learn tools to help me stay intentional and present. It’s the little things, like the quiet courage of getting out of bed, speaking my truth, setting boundaries, and some days simply breathing through a hard day.
When I stopped resisting the dark, I began to see it differently. I notice the quiet lessons it carries — patience, humility, the strength to sit with what we can’t control. In that space, I started to reconnect with intention. When I chose intention, my days began to feel more grounded. The noise softens, and clarity grows. I started to realize that peace isn’t something to chase; it’s something I cultivate — moment by moment, decision by decision.
Intentional living starts small. It might look like slowing down before saying yes, creating space for quiet reflection, or practicing gratitude for what’s already here. It’s about noticing what fuels your peace and what drains it — and making conscious shifts toward the things that bring meaning. It takes a lot of time. It means not everyone is along for your journey. It is still sitting in moments of darkness but recognizing that there is light.
Your light isn’t something you have to earn, and the truth is, we can’t fully understand light until we’ve known darkness. So, if you find yourself sitting in the dark don’t rush to turn on the light. Sit a while. Let your eyes adjust. You might find that the darkness isn’t the absence of light after all but the beginning of seeing it more clearly than ever before.
Be Kind. Give Grace. Spread Love.