Looking In the Rearview
This week’s post is more on the personal side. As I am about to finally embark on my journey back to Alaska. I find myself reflecting a lot on the lesson’s life has taught me so far and how I’m going to apply all those lessons and make them into something great.
Ever since I was diagnosed with RA, I’ve felt like I’ve been in a constant spiral, circling who I was, who I am, and who I want to be.
The girl I once was? She was kind, sweet, always trying to make everyone happy. She wanted to be the daughter her parents never had to worry about, because she was successful. The kind of girlfriend or wife someone wanted and needed. She wanted to be the boss bitch at work who got it all done and climbed the ladder faster than anyone else.
But that version of me also didn’t want to take full responsibility for what it really meant to be an adult. I was so caught up in making sure everything looked good on the outside—like I had it all together. And honestly? I did, for the most part. Most people would have said I had my shit together.
But under the surface, there was so much I hid. Even from the people closest to me.
I tried to fill a part of myself that always felt empty. I swallowed every emotion I thought might upset someone else, even when it hurt me. Deep down, I genuinely didn’t believe I had anything special to offer this world, just my hard work and my time. Two things I didn’t realize then were some of the most valuable gifts I had.
I poured myself into my work. I was good at it. Confident I would rise to the top and I did. I reached every goal I set for myself faster than I expected. And in those moments, I felt proud.
But what it cost me… was more than I ever imagined.
While I was busy trying to hold everything together and chase success, my relationships fell apart. I didn’t make time for anyone. And after my diagnosis, I started to resent the very company I once gave everything to. I didn’t feel valuable anymore. And that pain, that insecurity wrecked me in ways I’m still unpacking.
Looking back, I realize now how much I needed that unraveling. The way my pain humbled me has shaped every part of who I am today.
We don’t often take responsibility for our own suffering. It's easier to blame circumstances, other people, or timing. But the truth is, it’s hard to look yourself in the mirror and admit you made choices that led you somewhere you didn’t want to be. I get it. I’ve lived it.
Still, every moment of pain, every complicated relationship, every internal battle taught me something. It made me more resilient. More patient. And a hell of a lot more humble.
As I sit here, on the edge of a brand-new chapter, I look back at the girl I used to be and I feel a strange sense of sadness. Not because I miss her, but because I wish I could’ve told her that it was going to be okay. That one day she’d be proud of herself. That one day she’d believe in herself.
Back then, I wouldn’t have believed it. Honestly, I’d have thought you were crazy.
But I know now that everything I’ve gone through has prepared me for something bigger than clocking in and out and collecting a paycheck. I always felt like there was more meant for me, but I also didn’t believe I was the kind of person who could do it.
What I’ve come to understand is: everyone who’s ever chosen a different path has felt that way. And they did it anyway.
What’s the worst that could happen? You fail? So what. That’s life. You try. You fail. You try again. And once in a while—you succeed. And that one success makes a thousand failures worth it.
“I’ve failed more than most people know. But I’ve also tried more than most people would dare. And the one promise I made to myself a long time ago was this: I will not quit.”
I read somewhere (don’t ask me where) that you only truly fail when you stop trying. And in a world that’s conditioned us to expect everything instantly, we’ve forgotten what it means to really earn something. To build something. To honor where it came from. To care about what it affects.
I want the future me to help this generation hold onto those values, while still stepping into a better future.
“We’re standing at the edge of a rapidly changing world. Growth and change are necessary. But the roots matter too.”
Technology didn’t build this world. We did.
And I think we’d be foolish to forget how vital our communities, our hands, and our neighbors are.
So, here I come, Alaska with all the life lessons I’ve learned and an optimistic heart, ready to make a difference… or at least try really hard to, in the place I’ve always called home.
