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

by Alexandra Elle

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

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.

One day, something just clicked. I wanted to take control of my life and stop feeling like a victim. 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. 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.

To think back and know that I almost didn’t make it here blows my mind. I was a sad girl, a lost girl, a misguided girl, who had to choose between life and death.

I’m starting to understand that I can be angry without letting that anger stunt my growth. I can tell the little girl in me to go play now, that it’s safe and okay, and she, too, can let go.

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.

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

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

We call spring the rebirth of beauty.

Discovering how to take care of myself has been a challenge. I still have moments where it feels forgotten. The women I knew and saw around were always taking care of other people, rarely themselves. Their faces and backs looked heavy with worry and concern for everyone but them, longing for relief and reprieve.

I had grown up thinking that my experience was common. Unconditional adoration from parents was a foreign concept. There were always conditions. I didn’t know I was grieving my upbringing until I saw other mothers and daughters interact once I was an adult.

She was the boss. I was the child.

I was used to my story leaving people filled with both joy and a twinge of pity.

My mother wasn’t the most doting or nurturing parent to me, but she’s grown and softened to be a phenomenal grandmother to my children. Change is possible, no matter how it shows up.

I’m learning how to honor people’s silence even when it’s being weaponized. And I’m becoming okay with simply not knowing or ever getting closure with why things are the way they are.

this is our family’s dynamic. Unhealthy communication, conditional love, and resorting to silence when difficult feelings are caught in the pits of bellies.

Destruction always seems easier than the work of reassembling and acknowledging the very stories that break us down.

Her story of rejection and feelings of failure were all too familiar. It felt like I was listening to a generational curse where doing the best you can is never quite good enough to break the cycle. Something I’m learning as I continue to embark on my journey and write my own story is that the trauma of my family runs deeps. We all have our shit. It takes profound introspection and personal hard work to dismantle suffering. Breaking the chains of unhealthy cycles begins with acceptance. Facing rejection is a challenge, but it continues to teach me how important it is to accept what I cannot change.

We can’t make people love us, see us, talk to us, or understand us. Being family doesn’t always mean that those things are a given.

Acceptance isn’t rooted in trying to force others to be cognizant of their actions, or demanding that they show up in ways they aren’t capable of. It’s the practice of doing our own personal work when it comes to being in relationships with people.

When silence is used as a power move to express resentment and disdain, or to oppress another, no one wins.

Silence and rejection do nothing but distract from the main thing most of us yearn for: love, compassion, and community.

It’s a challenge to create a new narrative when the old one feels like what you deserve. To forgive is to let go. To let go is to relinquish control and get acquainted with your vulnerability and courage. Opening your heart to the unknown is a challenge, but keep working on it.

And to those who have hurt you, splintered your heart, made you feel small, and rejected you—offer them mercy so that you can learn what true freedom feels like. Gripping on to grudges wastes time and energy. It will distract you from being your best self.

fear is also a distraction from finding joy.