I used to fear beginnings because I thought they meant I had failed. Now I know they mean I have survived.

 

For the longest time, I saw endings as proof that I wasn’t enough. That if something slipped through my fingers whether it was love, a dream, or a version of myself I once clung to it was because I had failed. Because I wasn’t strong enough, worthy enough, good enough to make it last.

And that made beginnings terrifying. Because to start over meant admitting that something had ended. It meant facing the emptiness, standing in the wreckage of what once was, and daring to rebuild. And I didn’t know if I had the strength to do that.

But now, I see it differently.

I realize that beginnings aren’t a punishment. They aren’t a consequence of failure. They are proof of survival. Proof that despite everything, I am still here. Still breathing. Still moving forward.

There is something powerful about standing at the edge of something new and realizing that you made it. That the pain didn’t destroy you. That the love you lost didn’t take you with it. That even when the world felt like it was collapsing around you, you found a way to rise again.

So, no, I don’t fear beginnings anymore. Because now, I know that every time I start over, it’s not because I lost. It’s because I refused to stay lost.

Food for thought: What if, instead of fearing the unknown, you saw every new beginning as a testament to your strength? What if you stopped seeing it as starting over and started seeing it as stepping forward?