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

by Alexandra Elle

During my crusade through self-discovery, I am continuously reminded that I am a student, and I will always be one.

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

I am my own. I am enough.

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 did. It was time to go.

Trauma or not, I had to make the effort to rise from the ashes and soar. Nothing around me was changing to my benefit because I was not making space for it to. The older I got, the more clear it became that I was the common denominator in my suffering, so I needed to adjust. Self-love feels like looking yourself in the eye, taking a deep breath, and saying: I see you.

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

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

I would tell her that 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. The true process of mending has exposed itself in the thick of the moments that have shattered me.

Hurt happens, but so does healing.

Life doesn’t stop when we grieve.

Life won’t be what we wish it to be; no amount of wishing and waiting will change that. And that when we truly care, we make time for who and what we value. When I lean back into my past and comfort my inner

Holding on to what could’ve been doesn’t change what was, and expecting anything different to manifest from things I cannot change only creates a dent in the power I am attempting to stand in.

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.

Choosing myself requires bravery and trust, even when I’m not chosen by outsiders.

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

Lessons are built through trial and error.

Shrinking to fit in wasn’t working anymore. Swallowing the desires and stories of other people had gotten old and unsettling.

Years later, I continue to learn that I can flourish and be complete with or without someone standing next to me. I am my own validation, which now feels empowering rather than isolating and unnerving. While life is not meant to be done alone, it’s important to make room and hold space for intimate moments that don’t require company and praise to press forward. Validation starting with me gave me permission to trust myself in new ways, while holding myself accountable. It is no one else’s job to make me feel whole and good—only I can do that.

you don’t possess people, you experience them.

That was the hardest part for me: letting go and letting love lead without fear of being hurt at every turn.

Love requires vulnerability.

For me, it continues to be a heart-opening experience that constantly shifts how I see the world and myself. Giving myself permission to stretch, soften, and let things grow organically reminds me that I can change and make space for joy in ways that I had never imagined.

You are deserving of opening your heart and letting love in. Don’t let the hurt of your past or the doubts of others deter you from building the life you long for.

I am capable of paving a new way for myself. I will do the work. Even in uncertainty, I can be great.

I didn’t realize that when she was born, I was reborn. I was a new human being. During that phase in my life, I sacrificed, I suffered, and I shifted. I lost friends, faith in my purpose, and the ability to live a full life along the way. I stumbled more times than I can count, over and over again. So much so that I learned to find joy on the way down. The climb to becoming was slow and at times unsteady, but well worth it now that I am on the other side.

I was putting so much pressure on outside influences to bring me joy that I didn’t realize my ability to be self-sustaining. That process wasn’t easy. Despite feelings of loss

Growth demanded all of my attention and more than just good intent. Meaning well and doing well are not synonymous.

Transitions, big or small, are rarely straightforward. They require abandoning the parts of ourselves that feel safe and familiar. It is a massive task to intentionally choose change over comfort. But it taught me to trust myself more and embrace the shifts.

I am capable of leaning into my resilience. There will be people who can’t see it, but I will bloom to become despite who stops to appreciate my growth.

The roots in my life never felt firm.

Instead, I felt like I was just drifting, taking up space.

My words had cut like knives, a bad habit I picked up from my mother as a child. Verbal daggers were my go-to defense mechanism when I wanted to escape my fears rather than face them.

The love I knew never stayed—it always felt conditional, and in turn, I felt like an outsider

There have been plenty of moments where it feels smoother and safer not to address the things that break me down.

But it has been in the breaking where I’ve discovered my belonging.

My greatest lesson has been facing what causes the most fear so that I can openly begin to heal.

May you be brave enough to choose yourself even when others don’t. Healing is a soft and slow process.

Getting still can be a burden on my plans.

Healing for me meant getting myself together enough to learn from this big hurtful thing that had happened. In this experience, I learned that we don’t own people. We can’t stop anyone from hurting or disappointing us. And even those we love will make mistakes and let us down.

I am willing to release my expectations on healing and what it’s supposed to look like so that I can make room for more self-compassion, self-healing, and self-love.

Unlearning unhealthy patterns and habits is difficult, but relearning how to do things differently and for the better can feel like an even bigger task to tackle.

And as much as I want to be angry for what the little girl in me didn’t get, it’s unfair to punish people for their pasts. Especially when they are trying to show up in the present and prove that things are different. That they are different.