Once upon a time, there was an emptiness inside of me — a quiet, aching space that I didn’t know how to fill. It wasn’t dramatic or loud; it simply lingered beneath the surface, shaping the way I moved through the world. Because of that emptiness, I found that I couldn’t do many things for myself. Simple choices felt heavy, and every decision carried the weight of possible failure.
There were countless reasons why — a tangled web of self-doubt and fear. I didn’t trust myself not to make a mistake, not to fall short of someone else’s expectations, or even my own. I was afraid of being seen, not just in the ordinary sense, but truly seen — as a grown adult who was supposed to have it all together, yet didn’t. The idea of standing in my own power, of taking up space in the world, felt terrifying.
So I stayed small. I hesitated, second-guessed, and waited for someone else to tell me what to do or who to be. All the while, that emptiness quietly grew, feeding on the parts of myself I refused to claim.
“Somewhere along the way, I stopped just surviving and started living again.”
@butterflieswithrainbows
There’s a quiet shift that happens when you finally learn to stand on your own. It’s not an overnight thing. It happens really slowly — in tiny, almost invisible ways. The first time you go somewhere alone and realize you don’t feel awkward. The moment you make a decision without second-guessing yourself. The day you stop seeking permission to live the way you want to.
I’m still learning, but I can feel the change in me. Although ask me ‘what do you like?’ Still leaves me speechless and wondering what the answer should be. Choosing curtains was certainly a challenge!
For the majority of my life, I thought strength meant holding everything together — never letting anyone see me struggle, never admitting when I was scared or unsure. I thought independence meant not needing anyone. But standing on my own has taught me something different. It’s not about shutting people out — it’s about standing strong within myself, even when everything around me is shifting.
Doing new things has become part of that journey. Some days it’s something small, like going for a walk alone, or exploring a new place. Then there are days when it’s something big — taking a risk, starting over, saying goodbye to what no longer fits. Each time, there’s that mix of nerves and excitement. And honestly, I’ve started to love that feeling (in small doses). It reminds me that I’m alive, that I’m still growing, still becoming.
Learning how to feel again — really feel, had been interesting to say the least. All the messy, complicated, beautiful emotions. For so long, I tried to keep my feelings neat and quiet, like they were something that had to be hidden away. After all who wants this person who gets overly excited, or overwhelmed around them when the focus should be on them. However life doesn’t work like that. Now, when sadness comes, I let it. When joy shows up, I soak in it completely. I don’t push anything away anymore. I let it all move through me. I’m still very much learning all about all these feelings that in all honesty I should have learnt about in childhood, but time is most definitely the key. In time I’ll have more understanding about all the things that cause happiness or joy, as well as the things that will inevitably bring sadness. In time I will learn how to process them without overthinking or over criticising myself. Why do I believe this?
Because the truth is — I survived.
There was a time when I wasn’t sure I would. When everything felt too heavy, too uncertain, too painful to carry. There was a time when I didn’t carry it all very well at all, and several times I fell under the weight of it all. The thing I keep reminding myself, is that like many others I did survive. I got through it. Somewhere along the way, I stopped just surviving and started living again.
Living looks very different now. It’s slower, calmer, softer. It’s morning coffee and deep breaths. It’s music in the car with the windows down. It’s walking outside listening to the birds whenever I want to. It’s laughing with friends until my stomach hurts. It’s quiet nights where I finally feel peace instead of emptiness.
And thriving — that’s happening, too. Not in the picture-perfect, everything’s-amazing kind of way, but in the real, grounded, everyday way. Thriving looks like gratitude for small things. Like waking up and realizing I don’t dread the day ahead. Like catching myself smiling for no reason. Looking around and thinking to myself ‘im doing it’ and knowing I’m doing it all for me not because someone told me too.
“Because the truth is — I survived.”
@butterflieswithrainbows
I’m proud of the person I’m becoming. The one who is beginning to trust her own voice. The one who doesn’t need validation to know her worth (although sometimes it is nice to receive)The one who has learned that standing alone doesn’t mean being lonely — it means being whole.
There’s still so much I’m figuring out, but that’s okay. I don’t need to have it all together. I just need to keep showing up — for myself, for my life, for the moments that make it all worth it.
I’ve come a long way from where I started.
And for the first time in a long time, I can say this and truly mean it:
I’m not just surviving anymore.
I’m living. I’m thriving. I’m free.
Butterflies With Rainbows 