Chapter One: Why Am I Still Here?

I look back on my life sometimes and wonder how the hell I made it this far.

I think about everything I’ve been through. Everything I survived. Every situation that should have broken me. Every moment that could have ended differently. Every time I thought, This is it.

And somehow, I’m still here.

Every time I overcame something, I would tell myself:

This can’t be all for nothing.

But then came the question I could never seem to answer.

Why?

Why am I here?

Why have I had to go through so many things?

Why have I experienced so many moments where death felt closer than life, yet somehow I kept surviving?

Why haven’t I died?

There has to be something I’m missing.

What am I doing wrong?

Why can’t I ever seem to get ahead?

What is holding me back?

There is no way I’m meant to live this life, go through all of these experiences, learn all of these lessons, survive all of these battles, and then simply die without ever knowing who I am.

There has to be more.

There has to be something I’m supposed to do with all of this.

Maybe that’s the part I’ve been trying to figure out.

How do I use everything I’ve survived in a positive way?

I tried sharing pieces of myself on social media.

I tried telling my story.

I tried putting my thoughts, my experiences, my beliefs, my pain, my lessons out into the world.

But something about it never felt right.

Maybe that wasn’t the way.

And then I started asking myself another question:

Why do I owe them my story anyway?

I never had help with anything.

I never asked anybody to save me.

I figured things out myself.

I survived things myself.

I picked myself back up.

So why should I feel obligated to give pieces of myself away?

I could just disappear.

Go somewhere quiet.

Somewhere nobody knows me.

Somewhere deep in the forest where I could live freely, away from expectations, opinions, responsibilities, noise, and everybody else's idea of who I'm supposed to be.

I could disappear into the shadows and live my life however I wanted.

But then what would be the purpose of everything I survived?

What would all of it mean if I simply disappeared?

No.

This can't be my purpose.

Because I feel something inside of me.

Power.

A will to survive that has carried me through things I didn't think I would make it through.

But lately I've been asking myself something deeper:

What about the will to live?

Am I surviving just to survive?

Am I living just to eventually die?

What is this thing called life?

And am I actually living it?

Or have I just been existing inside of a story I never consciously chose?

I've gone through so much.

But did I grow through it?

Or did I simply learn how to survive it?

Maybe that's the uncomfortable question.

Maybe I'm not waiting for the world to change.

Maybe the world is waiting for me.

And maybe I've been so busy asking what is wrong with the world that I haven't stopped to ask:

What if I'm the one holding myself back?

What if it's my own mind?

What if all this overthinking has kept me detached?

What if I've convinced myself that I don't need anybody because needing people feels like weakness?

What if I've convinced myself that nobody needs me because being needed comes with responsibility?

Maybe the way I think is shaping the reality I'm experiencing.

Maybe I have to get out of this mindset.

Maybe I have to get out of this tower I've built around myself.

Because maybe it's not the world that's keeping me trapped.

Maybe I'm afraid of my own power.

Afraid to show the world who I really am.

Afraid of what's going to happen if I actually step into everything I know I'm capable of becoming.

Afraid of responsibility.

Afraid to lead.

Afraid to fail.

Afraid to succeed.

Afraid that if I actually excel, people will expect something from me.

So I stay inside my box.

Comfortable.

Familiar.

Safe.

And terrified.

Terrified to step outside of what I know.

Terrified to find out what happens when I stop playing small.

But I'm tired.

I'm tired of playing it safe.

I'm tired of wondering what could happen.

I'm tired of sitting on all of this power and pretending I don't feel it.

So maybe it's time.

Time to step outside of my comfort zone.

Time to test the waters.

Time to fuck around and find out.

Because at this point, what do I really have to lose?

I've already survived the things I thought would destroy me.

I've already walked through the fire.

I've already made it through the moments that were supposed to be the end of my story.

Maybe those weren't the end.

Maybe they were preparation.

Maybe everything I've been through wasn't meant to bury me.

Maybe it was meant to build me.

And maybe the question isn't:

"Why did all of this happen to me?"

Maybe the question is:

"What am I going to do with it?"

It's time to be brave.

It's time to step out.

It's time to stop hiding behind comfortability.

It's time to do something great.

It's time to make this life count.

And maybe it's time to finally share my testimony.

Because I know there are people who want to know my story.

They want to know what's behind the smile.

They want to know what happened before the woman they see today.

They want to know about the trials.

The tribulations.

The losses.

The lessons.

The moments I almost didn't make it.

The moments I had to find strength I didn't even know I possessed.

So I'm going to tell them.

Not because I owe the world my story.

Not because I need anyone's validation.

Not because I need to prove anything.

But because maybe there is someone out there who is asking the same questions I once asked.

Why am I still here?

Maybe they need to know that surviving isn't the end of the story.

Maybe they need to discover their own will to live.

And maybe...

just maybe...

the thing I've been searching for all this time wasn't outside of me at all.

Maybe I've been searching for myself.

And maybe this is where the return begins.