Becoming me again
304 Words
Healing didn’t come like a wave.
It came in tiny moments that felt like nothing—until one day, they felt like peace.
Thandi didn’t wake up with a clear mind or a hopeful heart. But she did wake up and decide: I need to come home to myself.
So she started small.
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She deleted the playlist that reminded her of him.
She changed her wallpaper to a picture of the sky—not because it meant something, but because it was new.
She went to a café alone and didn’t feel out of place.
She started journaling again.
At first, it was just pain spilling onto pages: “Why wasn’t I enough?”
“Why did he leave like I meant nothing?”
But slowly, the questions changed:
“What do I love about myself?”
“What have I survived?”
“What do I deserve moving forward?”
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Thandi signed up for a weekend painting class. She hadn’t touched a brush since high school. She met women who laughed loudly, cried openly, and spoke kindly to themselves. It was jarring at first—but then it became healing.
She started walking in the evenings.
Not to escape, but to breathe.
To remind herself that the world kept moving—and so could she.
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One Sunday, while packing old things, she found a letter she wrote to her younger self years ago. She read it through tears. Not because of sadness, but because she finally felt like she was becoming the woman that girl had always needed:
Brave.
Soft.
Unapologetic.
Whole.
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Collen never reached out.
And one day, she realized… she didn’t want him to.
Because the girl who once begged to be chosen was slowly learning to choose herself.
Not perfectly.
Not all at once.
But truly.
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