As I sit here
As I sit here, my hands tremble. Did I make the right decision?
The feeling is not unlike the trauma one might feel when passing by the site of an old tragedy—an accident, a loss, a betrayal. That place, etched into memory, holds the power to shake you to your core, just as trust, once broken, becomes so difficult to rebuild.
I wonder if I’ll ever accept what happened to me and move on. I’ve been told countless times not to let the weight of the past dictate the course of my life. I’ve even quoted those very words: The situations we face should not become excuses for standing still.
But is it truly just an excuse? Or is it the reality of scars that refuse to fade, of a heart that still aches despite the passage of time?
I’ve come to believe that life is like a triangle, with three sides: spiritual, emotional, and physical. If one side falters, the triangle collapses, leaving life incomplete. Like the traditional three stones used to support a cooking pot, all must work together—remove one, and the pot cannot balance.
Sometimes, I feel like my triangle is cracked. My spiritual side is weighed down by questions I cannot answer, my emotions are tangled in a web of pain and uncertainty, and my physical self bears the toll of sleepless nights and endless worry. I try to rebuild, but the cracks seem too wide, the pieces too fragile.
And yet, there’s a small voice within me that whispers: You are still here. You have not given up. Perhaps life doesn’t demand perfection, but persistence. Perhaps the broken triangle can still hold together, even if it isn’t flawless.
And so, I sit here, facing the question that refuses to let me go:
Can my life ever feel whole again? Can I truly function while carrying the weight of my past?
Maybe the answer isn’t found in forgetting but in learning to carry it differently—in finding strength not despite the cracks, but because of them.