She would be so proud

Some days are hard.

So hard I forget how blessed I am.

So hard that anger rises before gratitude ever gets a chance at the table.

So hard that resentment creeps in quietly and sits heavy on my chest.

Because why does this keep happening?

Why do obstacles show up the moment I finally find my footing?

Why does it feel like the universe is out to get me just when I start to breathe again?

And before I even realize it,

I’m back in that old mental cycle.

Why? Why me? This isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this. I love people, and I would give the clothes off my back. I forgive, endlessly. So why does it still feel like I’m failing? Like I’m going nowhere; Like I’m stuck in the same rut I’ve been clawing my way out of my whole life?

And then I remember her.

That little girl I used to be.

The one who never felt steady ground beneath her feet.

The one who craved peace the way other kids craved toys.

The one who begged for safety. For stability. To be seen. To feel heard. To just have the same opportunities as everyone else and have a glimpse of what “normal” felt like.

She never thought she’d be here.

Not just alive, but building.

Not just surviving, but owning two businesses.

She never imagined she’d be living inside the very prayers she once sobbed out in silence behind closed doors; Prayers she wasn’t even sure would ever be heard.

She would be so proud of us.

Proud of the generational curses already broken. Proud of the ones we are still tearing down brick by brick. Proud that we didn’t become what tried to break us.

And when I spiral in my thoughts, when I convince myself I will never escape the cycle, she whispers the truth,

"You already have. Don’t stop now. Don’t let the enemy win. Because that’s what the system wants; To exhaust us, to break us, to convince us we are powerless and to make us believe we are stuck. But we were never powerless. We had enough strength to change generations all along. Enough courage to rewrite the story and enough resilience to build what we were never handed. Just. Keep. Going."

And when I feel trapped in that same, seemingly endless cycle of doubt and fear,

she reminds me again,

We already escaped.

And we will keep escaping.

It is up to me.

And I have the power.

I always have, and I always will.

So today, I choose gratitude.

Gratitude for the life I live now.

For the struggles that still shape me.

For the lessons hidden inside the hard.

For the work it took to get here.

And the work I am still willing to do to reach where I’m going.

Because even on the hardest days when I can’t see how far I’ve come,

that little girl inside me would look at this life and call it a miracle, and that counts for something.

More than I ever give it credit for.