I used to think suffering was something far away, something that belonged to stories or other people’s lives. But life has its way of teaching us differently. My own suffering came when I set out to start my journey independence all alone after I was done with tertiary institution. There was no parents to assist, no relative to run to for help. I struggled all alone to survive. There were times that thoughts of what step to take weighed heavy on my chest, days when I felt like my efforts were never enough, and nights when sleep refused to come.
I remember times when I smiled in front of others but carried battles within me that no one could see. It wasn’t just physical tiredness; it was the loneliness of carrying pain in silence.
Yet even in that suffering, I discovered something about myself. I learned that I could bend but not break. I learned that even tears have a way of watering the strength hidden inside me. And now, when I look back, I don’t just see the pain—I see the person I became because of it.
My suffering has not been the end of me; it has been the soil where resilience grew.
