For as long as I can remember, there has always been this yearnful part inside me that has longed for safe arrival in a future reality where things felt peaceful. Integrative even. That somehow, somewhere deep inside me, something would be revealed and my life would make sense—my purpose, the roles I play, the very reason I came to this planet and to this incarnation. 

Who I am meant to be.

But so much of my life has been spent in this space of searching.

For anyone who has come to know injury, there is no heavier truth to hold within your body than the weight of disconnection. There is a solemnity in grief, often unspoken and held so sensitively in isolation, that yearns for connection. But as with many deeply held truths, we must reconcile within the interiority of our being what it means to ready ourselves to exhale outwards, and begin to speak again.

How else can you start over without bringing one chapter to an end and starting to write the next? To all those narrators out there, looking to make sense and meaning of their lives, I see you. I am you.