When the Last Three Weeks Changed Me More Than the Last Three Years

The past three weeks have taught me more about myself than the last three years combined. That might sound dramatic, but it is the most honest way I can describe it. What I went through recently cracked me open in a way nothing else ever had. The last three years were full of rebuilding, courage, and growth, yet these past weeks felt cruel, confronting, and emotionally exhausting. At the same time, they stripped me bare and forced me to finally see myself clearly, without filters, without excuses, without running.

There were moments when everything I believed in seemed to collapse in front of my eyes. Love, hope, and the future I quietly dreamed of felt shattered in what seemed like a single moment. I was left with a deep sense of nothingness, a quiet ache that stayed with me long after the noise faded. What hurt the most was not only the loss itself, but how quickly I turned against myself. I punished myself for things I could not fully understand. I blamed myself for mistakes I did not even know existed. I carried guilt that was never mine to hold.

As someone who gives naturally, who loves deeply, who shows up with sincerity and care, it has always been easy for me to forget myself in the process. I offer empathy, time, patience, and understanding, sometimes even when it costs me my own peace. These weeks made me realize that being a giver without boundaries is not love. It is self abandonment. And I had been doing that quietly, convincing myself it was kindness.

I saw how easily someone else’s fear, insecurity, and inability to receive love became something I carried as my own failure. I questioned my words, my tone, my intentions. I replayed conversations until my mind was exhausted. I pushed myself emotionally so hard that I barely left myself room to breathe. I forgot that love should never feel like a courtroom where I am constantly defending my existence.

There were days when I felt completely undone. My body was tired, my thoughts were heavy, and my heart felt fragile. I cried more than I wanted to admit. I withdrew from the world, not to disappear, but to survive. In that silence, something uncomfortable yet necessary began to happen. I was forced inward.

The cruelty of this period pushed me into deeper healing, the kind you cannot rush or control. I began working with my inner wounds, not to fix myself, but to understand myself more honestly. I learned that healing does not respond well to pressure. It asks for patience, compassion, and gentleness. It reminded me that growth happens when the mind is calm enough to listen, not when it is busy blaming itself.

Slowly, I began to remember who I am. I realized that loving myself genuinely means standing up for myself without anger, without resentment, and without needing to explain my worth. It means setting boundaries that come from peace, not fear. Boundaries that protect my heart while still allowing me to remain kind. Boundaries that say I can love deeply without losing myself in the process.

This journey also brought me back to parts of myself I had forgotten. My creativity returned. My clarity sharpened. I made peace with my intelligence, my emotional depth, and my sensitivity. I stopped seeing these qualities as something I needed to soften or hide. Instead, I began to accept them as gifts that deserve space and respect.

At the end of the day, I know what I can tolerate and what I cannot. I am not perfect, and I have never claimed to be. But I know, deeply, that I would never choose to do something cruel to another person, or to any human being. I understand how much damage cruelty can cause, especially when someone is already vulnerable. I have felt it in my own body during these past weeks.

So I choose to stay kind, within my own capacity and within my imperfection. Kind does not mean weak. It means conscious. It means aware. It means refusing to pass pain forward just because I have been hurt. And despite how dark this period felt, I am grateful that I can still see the light after these past three weeks. That alone tells me I am healing, even when the process is not linear.

I no longer want to remember these weeks only as the darkest point of my life. Yes, they broke me open. Yes, they humbled me in ways I did not expect. But they also awakened me. They reminded me of who I am and who I refuse to become. I choose to grow better, not bitter. I choose softness with strength, compassion with clarity, and love that finally includes myself.

This is not the end of my story. It is a quiet reinvention. And this time, I am walking forward with more awareness, deeper self respect, and a commitment to loving myself through every season.

From my heart to yours, 

CM