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

by Alexandra Elle

Unfolding never stops, no matter how successful we become, how full we feel, or how at ease we may believe ourselves to be. There is always a next step, another way, and more to absorb.

If I were speaking to thirteen-year-old me today, I would tell her that when we stop learning how to move through adversity, if we choose to sit in our enlightenment without exploring further evolution, we become stagnant and satisfied with stunted growth.

The goal for me is to continue learning how to dance in the rain, even if it’s mixed with tears as I learn my way.

All of life’s complexities are showing me that my intention should always be rooted in addressing the storm...

In order to grow, we, like the transition of autumn and rebirth of spring, must also prepare to shed and begin again.

That we are built to expand and stretch into our best selves.

Here’s to dancing in the rain, and believing that triumph is on the other side of trepidation.

My life is abundant. My heart is resilient. My happiness is important.

I often wonder what gave perennial plants and trees enough trust in their Creator to be born again come spring.

I like to think their fiery golden hues represent the bravery it takes to shed what is no longer needed, without question or doubt.

But in my ideal world, change wouldn’t incite fear. Instead, it would encourage shedding as part of the natural process of becoming whole and lush.

I remember feeling the fervor of her disgust and frustration. I must’ve done something that she didn’t like. Walked too slow, maybe? Talked back or something. Who knows. But when she got mad, she got really mad.

At that moment, I felt what is was like to be dressed in hatred and disdain.

That experience buried itself deep into my bones like marrow and stayed there as if I was born to carry it.

I felt like I wanted to die. Because maybe if I died, my mom would find a way to love me.

As a mother myself now, I understand that the things we grapple with in the thick of remorse and redemption can try to define us, ruin us, and mold us, for better or for worse.

Not feeling loved or cared for as a child did not give me the right to move through the world carrying self-destruction on my back.

the more clear it became that I was the common denominator in my suffering,

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

It reminds me that all can be well and beautiful in life after the hush of the night’s darkness.

My inner child was having a tantrum: She wanted attention, and love. And those feelings had manifested in my heavy mood.

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.

I am the gardener of my destiny. Digging dirt and sifting soil. Planting seeds and watching them grow, slowly and with an unrushed ease.

Resisting kept me small. Grudges hushed my voice. Pain held me captive and made the little girl in me weep from wishing my life was different.

It is no one else’s job to make me feel whole and good—only I can do that.

I could feel the love he had for me, deep inside my bones.

you don’t possess people, you experience them.

The pain from old wounds sometimes lingers, clings to you like a second skin that you can’t seem to outgrow.