There’s a quiet kind of courage in starting over.
Not the kind that shouts or demands attention, but the kind that whispers, “I’m still here.”
We all carry invisible weight. The anxiety we hide in polite smiles. The heartbreak we bandage with busy schedules. The sleepless nights we explain away with coffee and distractions. You don’t need a diagnosis to know something inside you feels off. You just know.
But here’s a truth that rarely gets said out loud:
You are allowed to begin again.
You’re allowed to...
Choose to close doors that no longer serves you.
Choose to stop explaining your sensitivity.
Choose to stop apologizing for how deeply you feel.
Maybe you’ve been the strong one... told your softness was weakness for too long. Maybe you’ve been misunderstood, dismissed, or told your softness was a flaw. Maybe you’ve spent years giving people second chances, hoping they’d finally see the goodness in you.
Healing isn't easy and healing doesn’t come from holding on.
When you Choose to let it go... that's when the real healing comes.
Choose to let go of needing closure from those who never offered you understanding.
Choose to let go of the shame that doesn’t belong to you.
Choose to let go of the belief that you have to earn love by breaking yourself in the process.
Because you don’t.
Healing is rarely loud. It often begins in stillness. In Choosing to rest instead of push. In listening to a guided meditation instead of spiraling through “what ifs.” In taking long deep breaths instead of biting your tongue, again.
The truth is, you don’t need to be fixed. You’re not broken.
You are becoming.
And becoming takes time.
You’re allowed to Choose to take up space in your own life.
You’re allowed to Choose to set boundaries and call it love, for yourself.
You’re allowed to Choose to not have it all figured out yet.
So here’s your permission slip, if you needed one:
Start again. Gently. Intentionally. For you.
Because when you Choose you, everything begins to change.
And maybe, just maybe, your moment to shine breaks through.
— Theresa Chuchmach