I didn’t wake up healed.
I didn’t wake up grateful.
I woke up tired.
Tired of hiding.
Tired of negotiating with guilt.
Tired of keeping every curtain drawn—literally and metaphorically.
And I opened the window.
Just a little.
Just enough to let the light touch my face.
That’s it. That was the day.
Healing Doesn’t Announce Itself
There’s no trumpet. No anthem.
No glowing moment where the pain falls off like old clothes.
Most of the time, it starts with something so small you almost miss it:
A window opening.
A prayer whispered through clenched teeth
A call you answer instead of ignore
A message you send when you thought no one wanted to hear from you again
That morning, the sun didn’t feel holy.
It felt suspicious.
But I let it in anyway.
Because some part of me—buried beneath grief and judgment and self-disgust—still wanted to feel warm.
Light Isn’t Always Kind at First
It exposes the mess.
It reveals the dust on your desk, the half-written notes to yourself, the face in the mirror that still looks a little haunted.
But it also makes things grow.
That’s what I’d forgotten.
I thought I needed to earn the light.
To become holy enough to stand in it.
To fix myself before I could walk into anything good again.
But all I needed was to stop shutting it out.
That Day Wasn’t a Breakthrough
It was a beginning.
I still spiraled after that.
Still made mistakes.
Still felt like a fraud on most days.
But the light had touched me.
And once it does, you start craving it again.
Not because it’s easy.
But because it reminds you that you’re not meant to live in permanent winter.
To You, If You’re Still Closed Off ‘
If everything in you says, “Not yet,”—I understand.
Sometimes, hiding feels like safety.
Sometimes, healing feels like risk.
Sometimes, silence feels like the only thing protecting what’s left of your dignity.
But I want to say this gently:
You don’t have to throw the doors wide open.
You don’t have to be fearless.
You don’t even have to believe it’ll help.
You just have to open one window.
One page.
One breath.
One scroll.
Let a little light back in.
Even if it hurts.
That’s how resurrection begins.
