And Suddenly

And suddenly—

they called it sudden.

Like healing just knocked on my door and I answered on the first try.

But what they didn’t see was the nights that stretched longer than my faith, the mornings where breathing felt like a chore I didn’t apply for.

They didn’t see me folding into myself like a letter never sent, silently asking, “Will I ever feel like me again?”

And suddenly—

I came out of depression.

But truth is, I crawled. I clawed. I begged the dark to loosen its grip one finger at a time.

And suddenly—

I picked myself up. Not in one motion, not gracefully, but in pieces— a spine rebuilt from whispered affirmations, knees strengthened by “just try again.”

And suddenly—

I left my partner.

But that “suddenly” was stitched together with red flags I tried to paint pink; with apologies I accepted just to keep the peace while losing my own.

I didn’t just leave— I chose me in a room where I forgot I existed.

And suddenly—

I left that toxic work environment.

Where my worth was measured by how much of myself, I was willing to abandon. Where I smiled through disrespect and called it professionalism.

No more. I clocked out of shrinking.

And suddenly—

I found peace.

Not the loud kind, not fireworks— but quiet. Soft. The kind that lets you sit with yourself without needing to escape.

And suddenly—

I found me.

Buried under expectations, under survival mode, under “be strong” when I really needed to be held.

I found her—

still there, still worthy, still mine.

And suddenly—

I forgave my God.

For the silence, for the waiting, for the “why me” that echoed unanswered.

I realized— maybe I wasn’t abandoned.

Maybe I was being carried through a version of myself I was never meant to stay in.

And suddenly—

I am healing.

Not healed. Not finished. But blooming in places I once bled.

And suddenly—

I understand… nothing about this was sudden.

It was survival. It was courage. It was choosing, over and over again, to stay.

And suddenly—

I am still here.