For a long time, I felt lost. I questioned my worth, not because I wasn’t trying, but because I never seemed to fit anywhere. I was always struggling, trying to make sense of why I didn’t feel like I belonged. I wasn’t a good student, I didn’t get awards, and I wasn’t good at the things most seemed to excel at. I didn’t have the passion for co-curricular activities, and I wasn’t interested in sports. School just felt like a place where I was never meant to be. It wasn’t that I hated learning—it was the feeling of being out of place, of not measuring up, that made everything harder.
But somewhere along the way, life started showing me things I hadn’t noticed before. Slowly, gently, I started to understand that not everyone’s journey looks the same. We don’t all thrive in the same spaces or in the same ways. Some of us don’t blossom in classrooms or under bright lights. Some of us grow quietly, hidden in the shadows, in ways that aren’t immediately visible. It took me years to realize that what I was looking for was never something loud or obvious. It was soft, subtle—and it had to be felt, not seen.
One day, I stumbled upon something that began to heal me. It wasn’t science, but something deeper—a connection to energy, to the soul. I started reading, absorbing everything I could about energy healing, self-awareness, inner peace. I found myself drawn to things like frequencies, chakras, and divine timing. The more I read, the more I felt like I was remembering something I had forgotten. It was like waking up to a language I had always known but never spoke. And that’s when it hit me: my interests weren’t what most people considered normal. They weren’t the things people talked about at parties or shared on social media. But they grounded me. They connected me to something beyond the noise. They gave me purpose, even when I couldn’t explain it.
Now, when people ask, “What do you do for fun?” or “What are your hobbies?” I just smile softly. The truth is, I’ve spent years searching for meaning, but I’ve also learned to love the stillness that can’t be put into words. I find peace in quiet cafés with soft music, in road trips with no destination, in walks under the stars, in places where time seems to slow down, and in shared moments of silence that speak volumes. I’ve learned to embrace slow mornings, deep conversations, and the beauty of moments that don’t need to be shared to feel real.
And for the first time, I truly understand what self-love means. It’s about loving myself through the dark times, through the doubt, through the moments when I felt invisible. It’s about recognizing that my struggles, my quietness, and my uniqueness are part of what makes me who I am. Life isn’t meant to be understood by everyone—it’s meant to be loved by the ones who see and understand you for who you really are.
And that love? It begins with me. It starts with accepting and loving myself.