For a long time, I mistook survival for strength. I stayed in spaces that drained me but ignored my boundaries—where emotional safety was optional and clarity was inconvenient. The more I tolerated, the more I lost sight of myself. Healing didn’t begin with forgiveness—it began with discernment. I had to unlearn the idea that being in toxic situations did not mean being valued. I started asking harder questions: Who benefits from my silence? What does safety actually feel like? Through therapy, spiritual grounding, and radical honesty, I began to reclaim my voice. I learned that healing isn’t always graceful—it’s gritty, disruptive, and deeply personal. Now, I hold space for others who are untangling themselves from toxic dynamics. You don’t have to explain your pain to be worthy of peace. You just have to choose it.