Today, it was one of those mornings where the first thought upon opening my eyes was a sinking feeling deep in my chest. I could sense the heaviness in my body, something didn’t feel right. Instantly, I knew I was slipping back into a deep depression, triggered by something personal that has been bothering me for the past few days. It was one of those days where I was greeted by the weight in my eyes and a body overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions. But what happened next reminded me just how powerful small choices can be even when you feel anything but strong.

Those feelings took me to a space I was all too familiar with a space of chaos, emptiness, and purposelessness. A place where nothing seems to work, where it feels like life is ending, and you quietly wonder, “Why even live?” These were the early signs of depression creeping in again.

In the past, I might have cried and looked for someone to heal me or at least offer hope or comfort. But today, that familiar thought was met by someone new within me. I was astonished to meet this evolved version of myself. It felt like a quiet but profound shift, a transformation in my thinking, and the quiet grit of resilience rising to the surface.

Out of nowhere, a quiet, grounded thought passed through me,

“You’ve been through worse. You’ve felt this pain before. And every single time, it passed. Get up. Just begin.”

So I did. I didn’t try to solve everything. I didn’t expect joy. I just got up. I moved into my daily rhythm, made the bed, washed my face, ate breakfast. And with each small action, the fog began to lift.

Life is beautiful, and this world is a place where God has placed us with purpose to live, to seek meaning, and to create lasting impact in the lives of others.

So keep going. Keep pushing.

Time is the one asset we can never get back.

And the next time you find yourself in a low moment, remind yourself: this will pass.

But let it pass gracefully so you don’t look back with regret, but with pride.

Today, I realize I’ve grown not just from yesterday, but from who I was a year ago.
And that realization brings me quiet joy.