Healing Through Her Eyes

Everyone says she’s confident. Strong. The one who knows what she wants.

And maybe she is. Or maybe she just learned how to act like it.

Because when she’s alone, the silence gets loud. Her thoughts spiral. She wonders if she’s just performing a version of herself that people want to see.

There’s a mirror in her room. Some days, she can look into it without flinching. Other days, it’s harder — like it reflects not just her face, but the ache she hides underneath.

She walks through her day carrying the expectations of everyone else. Oldest daughter. The strong one. The one who doesn’t cry. The one who knows what to do. But does she?

*Everyone believes I’m okay… but am I really okay? Have I ever been okay?*

She doesn’t know how to answer that.

She journals instead. Not for answers — but to breathe.

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I’m not sure who I am anymore.

Everyone says I’m confident and know what I want — but do I? I have dreams I want to accomplish, a lifestyle I want to enjoy, but I feel stuck. Like I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m trying to love myself, but deep down I still crave to feel safe and loved by someone.

I don’t want to admit that because I want to love God more than I love that closure I crave from another person. But… do I really love me? Do I need someone else?

I want to be happy and feel human. But will I ever feel that way? Do I need someone to be happy… or to feel safe?

I never wanted to believe that. I always told myself that peace should come from within. That I could be whole on my own. But I’m human. And now I feel like I’m blabbing — getting stuck in my head again.

I just hope to find that hope I crave — not just physically, but spiritually too.

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She stares at the page, unsure if it makes sense. But it doesn’t have to. It’s not about perfect words. It’s about finally saying them.

This is where her story begins. Not with answers — but with the courage to ask the right questions.