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

by Alexandra Elle

Letting go has never been my strength. If I were a tree, I’d be scared out of my mind that my leaves would never return. 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.

Change taught me the importance of self-autonomy, which I never quite believed I would come to know.

For me, 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.

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

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.

Asking for help doesn’t make you weak.

Hurt happens, but so does healing. Admitting that things aren’t always going to be fine allows me to revel in the moments that are. The sunrises of my life deserve to be embraced, even on the days I feel blinded by the other stuff going on around me. Life doesn’t stop when we grieve. Learning to soothe our suffering—choosing how to move through our pain—that is where the prize is.

Time has become one of my greatest teachers. It’s been a healer. A comfort to the sore spots that I’ve come to know and accept on my journey.

I don’t want to leave this world with a bitter taste on my tongue, despite many of my moments not being sweet. This journey isn’t just about savoring the sweetness, but learning how to swallow when things become too much to bear.

But despite the shifts, changes, and challenges, I decided that honoring who I am and where I’ve been deserves to be celebrated.

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

Richmond showed me that being alone is better than sharing space with someone who wasn’t a match. I walked away with a clearer understanding that I had to stop settling and forcing and being okay with the scraps of people’s effort and time.

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

I’m glad I believed in myself enough to stop settling and start creating the life and love I desired. I’m proud that I let go, trusted the process, and let love win.

The quiet season in my life taught me to hold on. To trust the flow of my river, even when no one is around to help or guide me. Becoming my true self was brutal, but the process brought out the beauty in my life that I ached for. It made room for more love and less judgment, more self-belief and less fear.

I remember her telling me to forgive my mother, because she, too, was a woman doing the best she could.

I couldn’t expect people to know how to show up for me if I wasn’t willing to speak up for myself and name my needs.

Even though his actions were the reason behind my heartache, I eventually saw that I had to be accountable for my choice to stay and my choice to heal. Healing my heart had to begin with me if I wanted things to move forward. It wasn’t up to my partner to fix me.

We can’t stop anyone from hurting or disappointing us. And even those we love will make mistakes and let us down. No relationship is perfect and they aren’t all worth repair, but finding the discernment to push through and gain insight from our experiences and connections can be where we find the depths of what we can withstand and overcome.

Practicing acceptance shows me that the baggage of others, even adult children, isn’t mine to bear.

Shrinking isn’t an option anymore. It’s time to show up and be big.

Forgive yourself for self-sabotaging and settling and thinking you were not good enough.

Forgive yourself for staying too long when you should’ve left. Forgive yourself for not loving your body enough to value it as sacred.