From Spiral to Strength: My Ongoing Healing Journey

That was me last year—the skinniest version of myself.

No sleep. No appetite. I couldn’t focus on anything.

I had lost myself, my job, friends I once considered family, and I lost contact with people I thought were truly my family. I was left in a sea of confusion, battling wave after wave of emotional and mental turmoil.

I LOST everything.

Last year, I was in a different place - physically, mentally, and emotionally.

My mind was clouded with confusion, my heart heavy with unspoken pain, and my days often felt like a downward spiral I couldn’t escape. I was surviving, but barely.

I lived from one psychotherapy session to another just to survive.

There were days I felt like giving up. Therapy isn't easy.

It reaches deep inside your inner self, and the more it touches, the more you feel the pain.

It's like being squeezed until you come out dry and until it pains no more.

But today?

I see a woman who has risen, more resilient and transformed.

There’s been so much growth in me, especially emotionally. I’ve learned to feel my emotions without letting them consume me. I’ve learned that healing isn’t linear and that’s okay. Some days, I’m still tender. But I no longer live in the shadows of those moments.

One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned in therapy is the art of detachment.

I’ve let go of people and things I once thought gave me love, only to realize they were feeding a version of me that needed validation, not truth. Detaching didn’t mean I stopped caring, it meant I started choosing myself, even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt.

In the midst of this emotional unraveling, I found art once again.

Every hard emotion I couldn’t put into words, I poured into painting. Each brushstroke became a release—a quiet surrender to whatever I was feeling. I didn’t try to fix the pain; I let myself flow with it, color by color. Painting became my way of breathing again, of telling myself, “You’re still here.”

I turned back to running, not to escape, but to feel alive.

When I felt like giving up, I ran. When everything became overwhelming, I picked up the pace. The rhythm of my footsteps reminded me that motion is healing, that even when I don’t know where I’m going, I can still move forward.

I’ve learned that being in pain means allowing yourself to truly feel it. To sit in it, breathe through it, and let it wash over you until it washes away.

I’ve grieved for people I truly love and lost. Some to distance, others to truths I could no longer ignore.

And while I once thought I needed them to thrive, I’ve come to understand they were never meant to grow with me.

Along this journey, my faith became my compass.

From one pilgrimage to another, I prayed, not just to find peace, but to find myself again. And in those sacred spaces, I felt heard. I felt held. My faith anchored me when everything else was shaking.

It reminded me that healing doesn’t come in an instant, it comes in quiet, steady steps guided by something greater than myself.

And yes, I believe this now more than ever: faith can truly move mountains.

I will never forget the people who stood by me. The ones who never gave up on me, even when I couldn't see the way forward last year. 

Those who reminded me, gently and constantly, that this too shall pass.

And among them, I am most thankful for those who never stopped fighting on my behalf, my husband and my children.

They were there in the silence, sitting beside me when I couldn't hold it together.

They let me cry, no questions asked, just holding space for me to pour it all out.

They reminded me, without needing words, that I wasn't alone and that they understood what I was going through. 

It was hard.

But we grew through it, together as a family of four. 

And in that mentaly struggle that I went through, we found deeper connections, strength and more love.

I’ve lost and gained so much.

But here I am now. Rooted in the right place, surrounded by the right people, and finally showing up as my best self.

Healing is messy. But it’s also artful.

And I’m finally learning that I was never broken, just becoming.

So, take care of your mental health.
Your mind is more powerful than you think, but it needs your care, management, and gentle control.
Emotions come and go, just like feelings—they are not permanent, and that’s okay.
We need to relearn how to take care of ourselves first and foremost, every single day.

Because when we do, we give ourselves the chance to truly heal, grow, and thrive.

xo,

Ai