The Wounds That Echo, and How I’m Finally Letting Them Go

When the Wound Reopens

It’s strange how life brings old pain back to the surface, not to punish us, but to help us finally process it. That’s what happened to me recently.

A situation in my current life stirred up a memory I hadn’t touched in years. And like a thread being pulled, the past unraveled all over again.

It brought me back to a moment I had quietly buried, the first time I realized my dreams weren’t going to be supported by the people who should have been in my corner.

A Dream That Was Mine Alone

College had been my dream for as long as I could remember. Even in grade school, I would walk past the university in my hometown and imagine myself there, learning, growing, becoming.

When I was a Senior in High School, I applied to nursing school all on my own. No help. No guidance. Just quiet determination and belief in a future I could almost taste.

I was accepted. I toured the campus, my dormitory and the hospital. I even received a few scholarships. But when it came time to cover the rest, I hit a wall.

Despite my efforts, I didn’t qualify for any financial aid because of my parents' income, even though they weren’t truly supporting me. They refused to co-sign any loans. They didn’t step in to help. And the one person who could have made a difference, my father, chose not to. Because my stepmother convinced him not to.

She had watched her own daughter drop out of community college, after my father had paid for it, and projected that story onto me. She said I would do the same. She told him not to help me.

And he listened.

A Pattern That Repeats

It’s easy to look back now and see the emotional undertones of that moment. The jealousy. The control. The subtle sabotage. My stepmother had long resented the bond I shared with my father, and any opportunity to chip away at it seemed welcome.

That experience planted a seed, one that told me I had to go it alone. That I couldn’t rely on others. That even those who were supposed to protect me might turn away if someone whispered loud enough.

Fast forward to now, and I see echoes of that same pattern. Someone else, inserting herself, twisting narratives, and damaging relationships I worked hard to build. And once again, a man I respected believed her version instead of remembering the foundation we had.

It felt eerily familiar.
It hurt in the same place.
But this time… I saw it for what it was.

And Still, I Rose

For a long time, I carried that moment like a weight, not just the loss of my college dream, but the ache of not being believed in.

But here’s what I know now:

Even when others don’t believe in you, you can still believe in yourself.
Even when they withhold support, you can build your own foundation.
Even when they try to dim your light, it can still shine, soft, steady, and unshakeable.

I didn’t follow the traditional path, but I carved one of my own.
I became the kind of woman who learns from the past, not to stay stuck in it, but to rise with more clarity and compassion than ever before.

I may not have walked across a stage in nursing whites, but I’ve spent my life helping others heal, through listening, through nourishing food, through holistic wellness, and most of all, through showing up for myself when no one else did.

This healing? This rising?
It didn’t come all at once.
It came in layers, soft moments, hard truths, and quiet decisions to keep going.

And every time I felt like giving up, I reminded myself:

“They didn’t stop you. They only rerouted you toward something more aligned.”

I built a life with depth.
I created a mission rooted in truth.
And I’m still rising, not despite what I’ve been through, but because of it.

If This Resonates…

If you're holding pain from the past that still echoes into your present…
If you’re carrying hurt that was never yours to hold…
If you’ve ever been the one who had to rise without applause, without backup, without anyone noticing…

This is your reminder:

You are not alone.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.

You are rising…on your own terms, in your own time, and with your whole heart intact.

I see you. And I’m rising right alongside you.

xx, Diana