I’m a woman moulded by her fears and anxieties.
A woman who mourned for so long the girl that she used to be.
I’ve hoped against all odds, clung to ropes that scarred palms.
I’m the woman who wanted to be loud enough to be heard—
Now, I want to be still enough to hear myself.

I’m a woman who gradually learned that
moving on sometimes means letting go,
And that I can not rush the parts of myself that need time.
I’m a woman accepting that I can not measure myself by who stayed or who left.

I’m a woman who is honouring where she is
While holding space for where she is going.
Unlearning all the ugliness she once believed she carried.
I’m a woman who knows now that change doesn’t always come knocking—
Sometimes, it comes in strong, overwhelming waves,
And other times in quiet whispers, saying—
“You’re not who you used to be, and that’s okay.”

If we haven’t met — hello.
If we already did — hello again.
Here I am, still in bloom.

PC: Pinterest