There was a period in my life where every step felt like my last. Ruminations spiraled through my brain like an unending race against time. My legs felt like jelly and shook under me through the most mundane of tasks. I was a prisoner to the “what ifs?” that swirled around like caution signs on a windy road. So many unanswered questions resounded with little end in sight. Stuck in a game of probability, I knew I needed to dig deeper within the depths of my soul for the solutions I craved. What could I do differently? How could I change the approach?

Winter turned to spring and the sun shined light on the darkness inside of my thoughts. My world was outside of the folds of my screaming fears. With a clearer path ahead, I chose to rise out of the ash of uncertainty.

I took one step and then another and decided to keep walking and test fate. The worst had already happened: I remained frozen in my journey with life passing me by. Time stops for no one. It was now or never. Small steps became strides. With practice and patience, I rejoined the world and began to live again.

That experience gave me a deeper appreciation for a steady path. Not everything called for immediacy; sometimes the slow pace was the bigger lesson. There was no need to return every text, call, or email immediately. I had to carve out time to sit with myself, so I could take inventory of my needs and what would best serve them. Turning inward felt like I was standing still, but it was the blueprint to forge ahead.

Gratitude filled my orbit the first time I realized I was on solid ground. In a physical and figurative sense, I felt the sturdiness of my gait, the way my feet carried me everywhere I went. It wasn’t something I imagined I would notice in such a vivid way. But this ability turned out to be quintessential to my well-being. There was a period when I was too afraid to leave one spot on my couch. The realization of my power restored the confidence I was missing when it came to taking care of myself.

The new assurance allowed me to complete simple tasks with less struggle. I resumed movement around my house without the incessant fear of passing out. I was able to shower without having someone sit with me while I did. It made me happiest of all to take long walks again. Being stuck inside left me stir-crazy and more afraid than I realized. I took back control of my time and how I chose to spend it.

The revelation of my body’s strength saved me from myself. Once the static deafened, the quietness brought me my proudest moment to date. It was the proof I needed to understand that sometimes the healing begins with the first step. The need for panic over my body’s capability to keep me from falling wasn’t called for; I was already on solid ground.

Editor: Shannon Hensley