The early months after leaving were difficult. I second-guessed myself, replayed every memory, and wondered if I’d imagined it all. But over time, the silence that used to feel heavy began to feel peaceful. I could finally hear my own thoughts again. I started remembering what I liked, what I valued, who I was. Little by little, I began to breathe freely.
These past three years have held both challenges and joy. My health hasn’t been easy, but it’s a completely different kind of hard when you’re not being made to feel like a burden. I can rest when I need to, ask for help without fear, and be surrounded by people who care without judgment. That’s a kind of healing money can’t buy.
