Eighteen Years On: A Quiet Reflection on Strength, Survival, and Self-Acceptance

Eighteen years ago, I reached a moment where the pain felt unbearable. Aged eighteen, I believed there was no way forward, no space for me in this world. The weight of expectations, unspoken fears, and the feeling of not belonging had become overwhelming. But somehow, I am still here.

In the years since that suicide attempt, I have come to understand myself in ways I never thought possible. The journey has been neither linear nor easy, but it has been full of quiet, powerful lessons—lessons I want to share, not because I have all the answers, but because I know how isolating these experiences can feel. And if you’re reading this, perhaps you do, too.

The Silence of Struggle

Looking back, I can see how much of my pain was wrapped in silence. I didn’t have the words to articulate what I was feeling or even a safe space to share. The world around me often reinforced the idea that quietness was a flaw—that confidence was loud, and strength was about pushing forward, no matter the cost. So I kept my struggles inside, believing I was the problem, believing I was ‘too sensitive,’ ‘too quiet,’ ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ all at once.

The truth is, pain thrives in isolation. When we carry our heaviest thoughts alone, they can convince us of terrible things—that we are a burden, that we do not matter, that things will never get better. But silence is not proof of our insignificance. It is not confirmation that we are unworthy. It is simply a reflection of the world we have been taught to navigate—a world that does not always make space for gentle, deep-feeling souls.

Strength in Sensitivity

One of the most profound shifts in my healing has been recognising that my quietness, my sensitivity, and my deep way of experiencing the world are not weaknesses. They never were. The ability to feel deeply, to reflect, to notice the small details of life—these are strengths. They allow us to connect, to understand, to offer the kind of kindness and compassion that can only come from having known deep pain ourselves.

If you have ever felt that you are ‘too much’ or ‘not enough,’ I want you to know that the world needs people like you. It needs your depth, your kindness, your ability to see beyond the surface. And more than that, you deserve to take up space just as you are.

The Power of Small Moments

Healing is not a grand, sweeping transformation. It is a series of small, quiet moments—and messy, ugly moments of struggle, too—just as a butterfly’s stillness within and struggle to break out of its cocoon is a vital part of its transformation and development.

It is allowing yourself to feel what you need to feel. To rest when you are tired. It is noticing the warmth of sunlight on your skin. It is sending a message to a friend, even when your mind tells you no one wants to hear from you. It is showing up to a Meet Up when you feel anxious, and staying long enough to realise that you are welcome. It is every tiny act of self-kindness that says: I am still here.

For years, I waited for a moment when everything would feel ‘fixed.’ But healing doesn’t work like that. It unfolds in layers, over time. And even when old thoughts or feelings resurface, they do not erase the progress we have made. They do not mean we are failing. They simply remind us to return to what we know: that we are worthy of care, of connection, of being here.

Making Space for Ourselves

Eighteen years on, I still have days when I feel uncertain. I still have moments where I wonder if I am doing enough, am enough, or if I belong. But I also know, with deep certainty, that I am meant to be here. That we are all meant to be here.

If you are in a place where the weight of it all feels too much, please know this: You are not alone. There is space for you in this world, even if you cannot see it yet. There are people who will understand you, even if you haven’t met them yet. And there is hope, even when it feels impossible to believe.

We do not need to be louder to be valuable. We do not need to be different to be enough. Our quiet strength, our gentle resilience—it is powerful beyond measure. And eighteen years on, I see that now.

I never could have imagined, at eighteen, that I would be here now, writing this. That I would go on to build a community for us quiet, sensitive people—and those experiencing social anxiety, like I did—to feel safe, valued, and connected. That I would come to see my own quietness not as something to be ashamed of, but as a gift that allows me to create spaces of belonging for others.

Wherever you are in your journey, I want you to know: you matter. Your presence in this world is important. And you are not alone.

If today is a hard day, hold on. Speak, even if your voice shakes. Seek help, even if it feels difficult. And above all, know that you are worthy of the space you take up. The world needs you. We need you. And I am so glad you are here.

With love & quiet understanding,
Hayley x