“The most beautiful part of healing is remembering who you were before the world told you who to be.”

I don’t often talk about this part of my life. Honestly, for a long time, I tried not to think about it at all. But growth has a way of bringing things to the surface—not to hurt us, but to help us heal. And as I reflect, I realize I didn’t just lose something back then…
I lost someone—me.

But the beautiful part?
I’m finding her again.

The Power of Transitions

Transitions can shake the ground beneath us. That season of my life felt like one long, uncertain shift. Looking back, it took more than it gave. Don’t get me wrong—I’m forever grateful for the life I live. But with life comes learning, and learning isn’t always pleasant.

I was 12 years old when I moved to America. Everything around me was changing, and so was everything inside of me. It was confusing. It was overwhelming. I didn’t yet have the language to explain what I was feeling. Not because I didn’t know English—but because I didn’t yet know me in this new world.

Coming from Liberia, where I lived in a tight-knit community and knew everyone, I had learned how to be myself. I felt supported. I knew how to survive there. Then suddenly, I was in a place where even my family felt like strangers—and strangers felt even stranger.

I quickly realized: I wasn’t in Liberia anymore. Like Dorothy said,
“We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

I didn’t know where I was, really. I just knew I was supposed to be somewhere “better.” I knew many people wished for the opportunity I had. I also knew I was finally going to meet my birth mother—not the woman who raised me and whom I’ve known as “Mom” for many years. I was also going to meet my brother and sisters.

So, in theory, everything should have felt like it was coming together. It should have been beautiful.
I really wish that’s how it felt.

What I Once Had

I remember what I once had:
• Joy that danced in open spaces
• Light that radiated without apology
• Love that was loud, consistent, and warm
• Happiness that didn’t have to be earned
• Confidence that felt natural
• Fierceness that roared, even in silence

But during the transition, those parts began to fade.
My joy disappeared.
My light dimmed—and then completely shut off.
Love was shown differently—fundamentally, yes—but without the emotional warmth I had known.
Happiness left with it.
Confidence was destroyed—turned into criticism.
And my fierceness—my ability to walk boldly through the world—was slowly silenced.

I learned to shrink. To survive.
But deep down, that vibrant girl never disappeared.
She was simply waiting for me to remember her.

Today, I Choose to Reclaim Her

I choose to reclaim my joy.
My light.
My voice.
My boldness.
My ability to love freely and fully.

These parts of me were never truly lost—they were just buried beneath survival, waiting for the right moment to rise again. And I believe now is that moment.

As I continue to grow into the woman God created me to be, I carry both the pain and the purpose of my journey. And I honor the strength it took to get here.

And I say this not just for me, but for anyone who’s ever felt lost in transition.
You are still in there. The real you. The whole you.

If You’re in Transition Too…

To anyone out there navigating change, I want you to know:
You are not losing yourself—you are learning who you truly are.
Hold tightly to the parts of you that feel true, beautiful, and whole.
Don’t let transition steal your essence. Let it reveal your resilience.

May your transition give more than it takes.
And if it doesn’t right away, may it teach you something priceless in return.

Keep learning. Keep growing. Keep evolving.
And never stop returning to the best of who you’ve always been.

With so much love,
Alvina