Mindful Minion

Sometimes I have to be the person who reminds myself: you are so much stronger than you think you are.

Because in the moment, I forget.

I forget all the nights I broke down thinking that was the end of me.
I forget all the versions of me who were convinced they wouldn’t make it.

But I did.

There were so many times in my life where I genuinely thought:

this is it, this pain is too much, I’m not getting through this.

I was anxious.
I was depressed.
I was insecure.
I was lost.

There were nights I closed my eyes and genuinely hoped I wouldn’t wake up the next day.

And yet…

I’m still here.

There were moments I felt rejected, misunderstood, and not enough.
Moments I distanced myself from people, and moments I felt quietly pushed aside.
There were times I felt invisible in a room, or questioned my own worth.

Some days, I questioned everything, my role, my direction, my sense of purpose.

Sometimes a persistent ache in my chest showed up in quiet breakdowns in my workplace’s washroom.
Sometimes it followed me home in silence on public transportation.
Sometimes it slipped into conversations, or sat with me at the dinner table.

It was there in my room, in the shower, in the middle of ordinary days.
It showed up while traveling, in places that were supposed to feel beautiful.
In books, in small moments online, in late-night thoughts, in difficult conversations.

It showed up everywhere.

That’s the thing about pain.

At the time, it felt absolute.

When you’re in it, it always feels like the biggest, most final thing in the world.
Like this time is different.
Like this time, you won’t recover.

And I’ve felt that, over and over again.

But when I look back, I can finally see the pattern.

Every time something hurt, every time I thought I would be destroyed, every time I felt like this was the worst pain I had ever known, I was wrong.

Not because the pain wasn’t real, but because it wasn’t permanent.

Because I survived it, every single time.

The craziest part?

I don’t even think about most of those things anymore.

Things that once consumed me,
things that felt like they would define my entire life,

they’re just gone.

Not because something magical happened.

But because:

time passed, and I stayed.

I didn’t have a plan.
I didn’t know how I would get through it.

I just…

felt everything,
fell apart,

and somehow, slowly…

I moved forward.

That’s what emotional resilience actually looks like.

It’s not:

• being strong all the time
• not crying
• not breaking

It’s:

breaking, and still continuing.

I think we underestimate ourselves.

We think we won’t survive something…

when in reality:

we’ve already survived it, just in different forms.

So now, I remind myself:

I don’t need to control everything.
I don’t need to be fearless.
I don’t need to know how I’ll get through it.

I just need to trust:

that I will.

Because I always have.