After the Rain: Gentle Reminders for Healing, Courage, and Self-Love

by Alexandra Elle

my intention should always be rooted in addressing the storms, instead of hiding from them.

In pursuance of blooming, there must be rain. As we wait for the downpour to cease and new light to emerge, patience is our best and dearest friend. The sun will be on the horizon again, eventually.

After the rain, truth finds a way to shine through the clouds, reminding us all that we are deserving of healing. That we’re worthy of change. That we are built to expand and stretch into our best selves.

I am my own. I am enough. I am rooted in love. My life is abundant. My heart is resilient. My happiness is important. Nothing has the power to break or destroy me. I am whole even through hurt.

change required being brave enough to let go and vulnerable enough to start over, even if that meant trying more than once or twice to get it right.

It’s like the universe was telling me, I tried to give you an out, but you didn’t trust me. Will you listen now? Will this ridiculously hurtful encounter serve as your cue to get the hell out of there? It

I understand that every storm that passes through is clearing the path for something bigger, brighter, and more bountiful.

There are so many different ways to honor my process. I am leaning into the slow practice of mending. There’s no reason to rush getting it “right.”

CHANGE MEDITATION How do you want to change? Think about things in your life that need to shift and require your full attention to do so. Make a list in your journal of the changes you’d like to make as you continue to evolve into your best self.

I understand that in order to make space for healing, all things must be rooted in love, and not fear. Growing up, I never felt loved. At

I don’t know what’s worse; not being able to breathe and parent, or not being able to love and parent.

lacking self-love and self-forgiveness crucially impacts how we show up for others, including our children.

I had gotten tired of hearing myself complain about what wasn’t. So I chose to focus on what was, face it head-on, and do my best to fix what I could.

Self-love feels like looking yourself in the eye, taking a deep breath, and saying: I see you.

I deserve to see myself in the same warm glow that I see others. My light is abundant. My joy is important. I deserve to take up space.

Loving yourself isn’t always a beautiful process. It’s hard. It can break you open. It can wear you down. Self-love is birthed in the trenches of our darkest moments— that’s why the light feels so good when we finally find it.

I have the strength to touch where it hurts. I will tell my pain that it’s safe to heal. In the throes of healing, I may break open time and time again to learn that the things I thought I healed from still need nurturing.

SELF-LOVE MEDITATION Explore your first memory of loving yourself or struggling with how to. Who taught you what you know? What do you need to learn or unlearn? Unfold the layers of your story and find the root of your self-love process.

until the end of my days, I’d never be able to silence my suffering, all I could do was try to soothe the suffering.

What would I tell my younger self about mending after being broken?

Hold your hurt, rest in your pain more often, stop running from fear. Don’t be afraid to touch and face what scares you the most. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak. Collapse into vulnerability; that is where you will find resilience. Take care of the soft and tender spots of your grief and process and bandage them up slowly. Rushing to rebuild won’t make you heal any faster.

it’s fine to be a mess. It’s good, even. An immense amount of magic can be found in the chaotic moments we encounter.

Hurt and heartache will never be comfortable, but I have grown to trust that things can get better. I am also leaning into understanding that maybe, sometimes, things won’t get better. And I’ll have to keep addressing them and learning from them. There’s an interesting lesson in that duality. No matter which way things go, I will continue to move forward.

ourselves. Even in distress, and turmoil, I can heal the damaged parts of myself by releasing attachments to things I cannot change and letting go of the notion that I have to figure out my sorrow.

The joy in my suffering has been standing in the truth that I can shift my story as I evolve and align more deeply with my possibilities, even when they seem far away.

Giving myself unapologetic permission to look my heartache in the face and say, You won’t silence me, has changed how I navigate pain. It’s helped me nurture my inner child and it’s transformed...

Hurt happens, but so does healing.

The taste of undoing is bitter and delicate. Savor it. Sweetness is coming.

My heart will stay soft and filled with love despite the hurt I will face. I am a student. I am learning to allow my pain to teach me, not harden me.

SOOTHING THE SUFFERING MEDITATION Think about the ways you can soothe your suffering. Experiencing pain and loss in life is inevitable, but having the tools to comfort ourselves through adversity and sadness can shape the ways we show up for ourselves and others. Consider how self-soothing can play a role in your healing process.

I’ve become a work of art through times of neglect, uncertainty, and failure.

I am the gardener of my destiny. Digging dirt and sifting soil. Planting seeds and watching them grow, slowly and with an unrushed ease. With time, my harvest continues to produce, feeding me in new ways so that I can share my lessons of defeat and abundance with others.

I am not on a stage. And being anyone but myself would be a disservice to my purpose.

No matter how ocean-deep the pain has been, time has never failed to offer clarity, perspective, and a sense of peace.

Time isn’t stopping or slowing down, and how we invest and spend it is almost an art form.

Every stormy day is a reminder to be patient and work for change while I wait for it to arrive.

This journey isn’t just about savoring the sweetness, but learning how to swallow when things become too much to bear.

Pain held me captive and made the little girl in me weep from wishing my life was different. But despite the shifts, changes, and challenges, I decided that honoring who I am and where I’ve been deserves to be celebrated.

I can be angry without letting that anger stunt my growth.

I can be gentle with myself as I mend and become whole.

There will be moments when I have to start from scratch and begin again—even after I’ve done intense work to mend. There’s always more to learn in healing.

My healing isn’t linear. It blooms and wilts as my seasons in life change.

Starting over allows me to give myself grace, as I wade through the ebbs and flows of grief.

I am brave enough to see myself, even when others don’t.

Choosing myself requires bravery and trust, even when I’m not chosen by outsiders. I still believe in my worth and choose to rise up. Rejection teaches me to uplift my spirit and redirect my energy, even when it’s a challenge.

You don’t have to know what you’re doing to succeed, but you do have to be willing to try.

I am working through my mess. I am sorting out my life. I am finding peace in the midst of madness. I am deserving of emotionally clean spaces.

Letting go is teaching me that I am not lacking, but receiving. I am acquiring knowledge, resilience, and room in my heart for something greater.

I am gaining perspective from what is able to stay and finding wisdom in what has to go. Letting go isn’t synonymous with missing out. I have the power to make room in my life for shifting and joy. I am releasing what no longer serves a purpose in my journey with grace— I will create space for change.

I am grateful to those who didn’t love me enough to stay; their absence taught me that self-love is my superpower.