There was a time when I didn’t fully understand myself. I hid behind masks of strength, saying “I’m fine” every day, even when inside I was breaking. I thought being strong meant hiding my pain, never showing weakness, and always putting on a brave face for the world. But that wasn’t true strength—it was just exhaustion in disguise.
I wanted people to see me as capable and composed, so I packed away my tears and silenced my fears. I convinced myself that everyone around me had their own struggles and that mine weren’t worthy of being voiced. So I suffered in silence, thinking that expressing vulnerability was a sign of failure.
But deep down, I was lonely and overwhelmed. I felt like nobody really knew me—not the real me beneath the smile, beneath the “everything’s okay” words. The pressure to always stay strong was suffocating. The more I tried to prove it, the heavier the burden became.I used to fear that if I let anyone in, they would see my cracks and stop loving me. So I wore my armor—sometimes heavy, sometimes fragile—but I kept it on. I was afraid of the truth—that to heal, I needed to be honest with myself first. I needed to feel my emotions fully, without judgment or shame.Looking back, I realize that my vulnerability was always my greatest strength.
The moments I cried, the times I felt lost, the nights when I doubted myself—they were all part of my growth. Healing started when I stopped fearing my feelings and started embracing them.I am learning to be gentle with myself, to accept that it’s okay not to be perfect. I deserve love, compassion, and acceptance just as I am, with all my flaws and fears. My journey is not about being seamlessly strong; it’s about being real.To my past self, I want to say: It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to ask for help. You are not alone in your struggles. You are worthy of kindness, starting from yourself.I am still learning, still growing, still becoming Almost Whole. And that is enough.
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and then Add to home screen.