Tag: healing journey

10 Things I Know to Be Absolutely Certain

The world is full of noise. People act like they’ve got it all figured out. They pretend certainty is something you can buy, Google, or fake your way into. But real certainty doesn’t come easy. It comes from surviving things that should’ve broken you. It comes from loving hard and losing even harder. It comes from walking through the same fire twice and still choosing to fight for something better. These aren’t opinions I’m floating out to debate. These are truths I’ve earned, and they’re not going anywhere.

1. I’ll miss my mom forever. She was my best friend.

Grief doesn’t shrink with time. It just learns how to sit quieter in the room. My mom wasn’t just a parent. She was my anchor. My favorite person. My best friend. When the world went sideways, she was the one I called. Now that she’s gone, the silence where her voice used to be is deafening. Missing her is permanent, but so is her impact. She taught me how to be real. She showed me how to love with everything I have in me. My mom always encouraged me to keep going even when I feel like I can’t. That love doesn’t disappear. It just shifts into a new forever one.

2. All humans are equal, no matter their socioeconomic status.

I don’t care if someone’s living in a penthouse or sleeping in their car. People are people. Period. Worth isn’t tied to a paycheck, an address, or a resume. It’s wild that we still have to say this. This society is obsessed with pretending some lives matter more because they’re richer. People think cleaner or more “put together” lives are more important. That’s bullshit. Struggle doesn’t make someone less human, and success doesn’t make someone superior. Every person deserves dignity, not because they earned it, but because they exist.

3. I love the outdoors. Give me a trail and a dog, the all trails app, and I’m set.

Nature is my peace. The second I step onto a trail, even a short one, something shifts in me. I breathe deeper. I move freer. Add a dog to that and it’s basically therapy. I don’t need fancy plans. Just give me access to All Trails, a pair of beat-up shoes, and a four-legged companion, and I’m good. There’s something healing about watching the world do its thing without us. Trees growing, rivers moving, birds calling out like nothing’s wrong. It reminds me there’s still beauty, still quiet, still reasons to keep going.

4. The world doesn’t have to be like this. Everyone fighting for a crumb of the crust.

This system? It’s not broken. It was built like this. Built to pit us against each other while a handful of people hoard the loaf. But that’s not how things have to be. We’ve been tricked into thinking there’s no other options, that this toxic hustle and scarcity mindset is just life. But it’s not. We can build something better. We can share more, care more, unlearn this survival-of-the-cruelest nonsense, and remember how to exist in community, not competition. All people deserve more than scraps.

5. It’s very possible to not like either side of the U.S. government.

It’s wild how people act like criticizing both major political parties makes you some form of traitor. I’m not here to support any side that lies. I won’t cheer for those who manipulate. I refuse to back those who sell out the people they’re supposed to serve. Propaganda exists everywhere. It just wears different colors depending on the channel. You can call out bullshit from all sides without being “uninformed” or “indecisive.” Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is refuse to play the rigged game at all.

6. Dogs are better company than most people.

Dogs don’t lie. They don’t scheme. They don’t pretend to be your friend while secretly rooting for your downfall. Dogs love honestly and without ego. They care when you’re hurting, even if they don’t know why. They don’t need explanations. They just show up. There’s something about that presence that makes you feel safe in a way most people can’t match. I’ll take a dog’s loyalty over a human’s performative empathy any day.

7. The thrill is always worth the risk.

Chasing a view requires sore legs and scraped hands. Making a life decision scares you half to death. If it makes your heart beat faster, it’s worth taking the risk. It’s probably worth it. That fight to get there. That doubt you have to push through. A quiet moment at the top where it all comes together. That’s what makes it real. The joy doesn’t come easy, but that’s why it matters. I’d rather risk it and live fully than play it safe and feel nothing at all.

8. College degrees don’t measure intelligence or creativity.

You can’t teach vision. You can’t grade lived experience. I’ve seen some of the most brilliant people get dismissed because they don’t have letters after their name. Some of the most useless ideas get celebrated because someone paid tuition. Don’t get me wrong, education can be valuable, but it’s not the only way. It’s definitely not the only proof of worth. Some of the smartest people I know are autodidacts, survivors, creators. Degrees don’t define genius. Action does.

9. Family is everything, but I don’t just mean blood.

Blood ties you to people, but it doesn’t make them your family. Family is who shows up when shit gets real. They see you at your worst and stick around anyway. They know your trauma, your mess, your contradictions, and still call you theirs. I’ve built my own family through friendship, through chosen connection, through shared history and mutual growth. Those bonds? They’re just as sacred. Maybe more so, because they were made by choice, not chance. I do, however, cherish my given family that I decided to keep around.

10. Google isn’t how you prove research.

We’ve gotten lazy with facts. Type anything into Google and you’ll find a dozen articles to back it up, true or not. Real research takes more. It takes curiosity, discernment, and effort. It means asking who wrote it, who funded it, and why. It means reading past the headline. Most people don’t go that deep. They just want something to confirm what they already believe. But truth doesn’t live in echo chambers. It lives in the uncomfortable space between easy answers and actual effort.

These aren’t just passing thoughts. They’re part of me. They’ve been earned through grief, joy, clarity, and chaos. You don’t need everyone to agree with what you know in your bones. You just need to hold onto it when the world tries to convince you otherwise. So this is me holding firm. These are the things I know to be absolutely certain. And that’s enough.