The Version of You Built For This
I post videos, write poetry, and blog articles. I started this because I want to help someone else out there and it helps me too.
My videos and articles help my future self on the hard days remember the good days and the strength from the lessons learned. It’s a living archive of survival. A place where I leave breadcrumbs for me and for anyone else walking through the dark trying to find their footing again.
I lost everything once.
And, I remember searching, trying to find something, anything, that could help me understand how to get through. Most of what I found talked about grief in a general sense. Loss of people, loss of things, but I needed something else.
I needed direction.
I needed something that could take me out of panic and into action. Something that could sit with me in it, not just talk from the other side of it. I couldn’t find it, so I made a promise to myself: if I ever found my footing again, I would become the person I needed in that moment.
Not after everything was fixed and not once I had it all figured out, but as I started the climb and saw positive feedback, so I started building something. Not from the top of the proverbial mountain peak, but from the climb itself, while my hands were still shaking.
And now, I find myself here again, needing it. I go back to those videos, those words, that version of me, and something strange happens. Future me looks at past me and finds inspiration and strength. It feels like time folding in on itself. Like I’ve left something behind for myself to find when I need it most.
Sometimes strength isn’t something you create in a moment. Sometimes it’s something you borrow from a version of yourself who already survived.
When I was younger, I had a big imagination.
I believed in things without needing proof. Magic. Possibility. Entire worlds that didn’t exist. I didn’t need evidence to believe something better was possible. I just believed.
Somewhere along the way, life made things heavier. Harder. More rigid. Survival changed me. Different versions of me showed up when they were needed.
The one who pushes through. The one who endures. The one who refuses to quit. They carried me through things I didn’t think I could survive.
But not every season looks like that. Right now, I don’t feel like the strong version.
I feel tired and drained. There’s no fire, nor intensity. No drive pushing me forward. It’s been really hard to accept, because I’ve always relied on that part of me.
I’m starting to understand something:
Not every season of survival look like fire.
Some seasons look like stillness. Like rest and recovery. Like doing the bare minimum required to keep going. It’s like healing an invisible open wound. It takes time, patience, care, and rest.
I heard something recently:
“You’ve become the person who could save your younger self.”
And I thought…but what about now? What saves me now?
I don’t have a full answer yet, but I do know this, I’ve made it through before, and that means there is still a version of me that knows how to get through this too, even if I can’t feel her right now.
For now the job is simple:
Rest where I can. Be gentle where I can. Trust that even this version of me, the tired one, is still built for survival.
There’s always a point where things shift, where the heaviness starts to lift, even slightly. Where imagination starts to come back. That part of me has always been there; the one that sees possibility and dreams something new before it exists. Reinvention starts in the imagination, at least that’s always been true for me, and maybe that’s what I need right now. Not force, not pressure, but space to imagine again. To believe again, before I know how it’s going to happen.
Maybe this time, strength doesn’t look like pushing, maybe it looks like remembering. Like, reconnecting to the version of me that believed anything was possible. The younger, softer me. The one who didn’t need proof to hold onto hope. Maybe that’s the version that carries me through this part.
If you’re in your own version of day one right now, you’re not behind. You’re at the beginning of something new. Even if all you did today was get through it, that counts! That matters!
And, you’re not doing it alone, this is a space where we rebuild.
One step at a time.
Closing Reflection
This version of you isn’t broken. You are not weak, nor are you failing. This version is done carrying more than they should have had to carry for too long. This version of you, that’s burnt-out, tired and has nothing left in the tank, didn’t show up to push you forward.
They showed up to stop you.
They’re here to interrupt the pattern and to force a pause you wouldn’t have chosen on your own. Because, if you keep trying to move the way you used to, you will keep draining yourself.
This time your system isn’t allowing it. The more you fight this version of yourself, the heavier everything will feel and the more depleted you will become.
Like getting sucked into quicksand.
The harder you fight it, the faster it will consume you. Not because you’re doing something wrong, but because this isn’t a phase that responds to force. This is a phase that responds to listening. To slowing down. To finally respecting your limits instead of overriding them. This version of you is not here to ruin your progress. She’s here to change how you move entirely and to teach you:
Where your boundaries actually are
What rest really looks like
How to be present without constantly trying to fix everything
You don’t need to get rid of them or to understand them right now.
You need to listen and work with them. Let this version of you show you what you’ve been ignoring. Because this is where a different kind of strength starts to form. Not the kind built on pressure, but one built on self-respect and peace.
If you’re in this stage right now, the unclear, heavy and in-between, I’ve created a deeper space that helps you understand what’s actually happening internally and to begin rebuilding without pressure.
It’s not advice, it’s not noise, just clarity, structure and a place to work through it.
Disclaimer:
This content is for reflection and personal insight. It is not a substitute for professional mental health support. If you are struggling at a level that feels overwhelming, please seek appropriate support.
