Welcome to Fragments of Healing – a space where we share our personal healing journeys, reflections, and experiences as we navigate the path toward emotional and mental well-being. This blog offers a glimpse into the real, sometimes messy, process of healing and self-discovery. We’re not professionals yet, but we’re learning and growing along the way. Whether you’re on a similar path or just curious about the process, we invite you to join us as we gather the fragments that lead to healing and wholeness.

Looking back at the past is like flipping through the pages of an old, worn-out book. Each chapter holds stories that shaped who you are, with moments of joy, pain, and growth woven into the fabric of your journey. As you revisit these memories, you begin to see the strength hidden within the struggles, like light breaking through cracks in a wall. It’s easy to get caught in the shadows of old feelings, but with a gentle heart, you can find the beauty in your scars. Every glance back becomes a reminder of how far you’ve come, lighting the way forward with hope and wisdom.

Still, we often dwell on the things we wish we could change when we reflect on the past. While reading Burn After Writing, I came across a thought that shifted my perspective: “Every time we remember something, we relive it from a different camera angle.” It made me realize how often my focus is stuck on the bad, replaying events that shaped the negative outlook I’ve had on myself. But maybe, with each new angle, there’s an opportunity to see things differently—to notice the strength and resilience that have always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

Let’s take a look at the past that I often view through a negative lens. Pinpointing it is difficult, but my counselor suggests starting with whatever comes to mind. So here it is: my earliest memory is of the honesty my parents showed me from a young age. I always knew I was adopted. Some families might keep that a secret, and while they may have their reasons, that choice can lead a child to feel betrayed or unsure of their identity. But for me, knowing I was adopted gave me a deep sense of pride. I wasn’t just born into my family—I was chosen. That feeling of being chosen was the greatest gift, making me feel truly loved and wanted.

But that feeling shifted when I was in the fifth grade. My parents found themselves in a position where they had to tell me the truth about my biological mother. Even now, I wish I had been given more time before learning it. The phrases “Like mother, like daughter” and “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” echoed in my mind as I learned the truth about her. It completely changed how I saw myself. Suddenly, I questioned every decision I made, every word I spoke, and even the things I didn’t do. That truth cast a shadow over me for years.

Looking back now, though, I realize that every memory, even the ones I see in a negative light, carries a new angle. Each revisit offers the chance to see both the hurt and the strength. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the healing begins—by embracing all of it, both the light and the dark, and finding the resilience that has been quietly building all along.