An emotional wound doesn’t knock politely or make its presence known. It storms into your life, uninvited, tearing apart the foundation of your existence. It doesn’t just hurt it dismantles you. At first, you try to stick to the familiar, hoping that things can return to the way they were, but emotional wounds don’t heal that way. They leave you stranded in a version of the world you no longer recognise.
The person you once held so close now feels like a stranger. Their laughter, their voice, even their presence things that once lit up your soul become reminders of what’s been lost. And then, as if to rub salt into the wound, the world around you begins to fade too. Places you loved lose their meaning. Conversations feel hollow, means nothing. You lose interest in things that once filled your heart with joy. Even the simplest pleasures a warm cup of coffee, the glow of the evening sun become meaningless.
And then there’s you. Or rather, what’s left of you. You wake up every day, not out of desire but out of necessity. You go through the motions because people are depending on you your family, your colleagues, your friends. They don’t know, or maybe they can’t understand, that the version of you they see is a shell, a shadow. You smile when you need to. You nod, you speak, you move, but inside, it’s all emptiness.
For a while, you live like this if you can even call it living. You’re not alive for yourself anymore. You exist because others need you to. And perhaps, in some cruel twist of irony, this is what keeps you going. Knowing that your absence would hurt the people who still care about you, even if you feel like you have nothing left to give.
But emotional wounds, while deep, are not permanent. Though it’s impossible to see this while you’re in the thick of it, they also have the power to teach. At first, it feels like everything has been taken from you. And maybe it has. But sometimes, losing everything is the only way to start over.
Life doesn’t bring you back in one grand moment. There’s no aha moment, no dramatic scene where you suddenly realise you’re okay. Instead, it’s subtle, almost unnoticeable. One day, you catch yourself laughing at a joke you heard. Another day, you feel the warmth of the sun on your face and notice, just for a second, that it feels good. And then, little by little, you start to notice life again.
But this time, it’s different. You don’t rush back to who you were before. That person is gone, and in their place is someone entirely new. Someone stronger, quieter, and more aware of their own boundaries and worth. You begin to live, but not for the reasons you used to. You don’t live to please others or to fill someone else’s heart. You live for yourself, and it’s not selfish it’s necessary.
The world that once felt so vibrant, then so dull, now takes on a different shade. It’s not the same world you knew before the emotional wound, but it’s one you’ve built with your own hands. You start to care about your own life in a way you never did before. You protect it fiercely, knowing how fragile it can be.
And then comes the most surprising realisation of all: nothing can hurt you the way that emotional wound once did. The wounds may have healed, but the scars remain, not as reminders of pain but as evidence of survival. You’ve walked through fire and come out the other side. You’ve been broken, and you’ve rebuilt. And now, the things that once felt so big, so consuming, seem small. Insignificant.
It’s not that you become invincible. You still feel. You still hurt. But the depth of that first emotional wound its ability to consume every part of you is gone. You’ve learned to keep some part of yourself safe, untouchable. And that’s a gift these wounds give you, even though it doesn’t feel like one at the time.
The world no longer holds the same power over you. People can disappoint you, but they can’t destroy you. Situations can frustrate you, but they can’t break you. You realise that the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one you have with yourself.
An emotional wound isn’t just an end; it’s a beginning. It forces you to confront parts of yourself you didn’t even know existed. It takes away the layers of dependency, the illusions of control, the need for external validation. And when all of that is gone, what’s left is you raw, vulnerable, but undeniably real.
And that’s when you truly start to live. Not for the world, not for someone else, but for yourself. Your life becomes yours again, and this time, you hold it close.
Looking back, you might not even recognise the person you were during those dark days of your emotional wound. But that’s okay. That version of you served their purpose. They held on when you couldn’t. They kept you alive when you didn’t want to be. And now, you carry them with you, not as a burden but as a reminder of how far you’ve come.
Because if there’s one thing emotional wounds teach you, it’s that you are so much stronger than you ever thought possible. They show you the depths of your pain, yes, but also the heights of your resilience. They force you to let go of the things you thought you couldn’t live without, only to show you that you can.
The first emotional wound, no matter how devastating, shapes you in ways you never thought possible. It strips you bare, forces you to face the darkest parts of yourself, and yet, it also rebuilds you. You emerge from it stronger, wiser, and more resilient. It teaches you to value your own life above all else, to protect your heart without apology, and to carry yourself with a quiet strength. And the most remarkable gift of all? Nothing no person, no circumstance, no storm can ever wound you the same way again. That first wound may leave scars, but it also leaves you unbreakable, above all, it is the most powerful lesson of all.
You are born again – Happy Birthday
