Innately, I have always been a fighter. I was never scared of adversities, i never shied away from responsibilities, always put my best foot forward irrespective of the situation.
Even during the darkest phase of my life, I dreamt of being the light to guide others to healing. Even when I fell, I grabbed as many hands as I could to rise with me.
I thought I’ll show the world what healing looks like, how faith transforms your world and that resilience is not just a word.
But here I am, writing a different story today. Don’t get me wrong. I am not cynical. I have just seen too much.
Life is not a bitch. No, but it’s also not a saint. Ain’t sure how it teaches you, because they say life is a teacher, but I sure know how it breaks you, your idea about life and your faith.
They say what’s a person without a little faith? I say look at me. Here I am still standing tall without even an ounce of faith, dreams, or hope.
I stand tall. Yes, not limping, without a whimper, letting life twist me as it pleases. Maybe this is what healing looks like.
But I’ll tell you something. Behind the exterior, I have a heart in shards and a mind in shambles.
If you ask me who am I? I’ll say I am a healed person for the books and a broken shell in the grand scheme of things.
So here’s my truth: congratulations to me.
For surviving.
Not for living.
Smita in words 