Still Standing, Unapologetically

 She didn’t become calm because life was kind to her. She became calm because life left her no other option.

She lost her father to kidney failure, her mother in a train accident, and her brother to TB. These losses didn’t arrive with support systems or gentle landings. They came with responsibility, isolation, and the constant pressure to keep functioning. Grief, for her, was not something she could afford to perform. It existed alongside survival.

There were no rituals, not out of rebellion, but because life demanded practicality over symbolism. She understood death as a transition, not a ceremony. The people she loved did not need proof of her devotion.

Then came a marriage that turned abusive over time. Fourteen years of erosion, followed by the hardest decision she ever made — to leave. She didn’t walk out alone. She walked out with her son, who was barely five years old then, carrying the weight of protecting not just herself, but a child who depended on her for safety, stability, and sanity.

Leaving did not bring instant freedom. It took five years of legal battles to finally close that chapter. By the time it ended, she had no appetite left for drama, explanations, or moral lectures. She had already paid in years, energy, and silence.

What people now mistake for coldness is restraint. What they label emotional distance is experience. She knows grief intimately and has no interest in displaying it for validation. When she hears about death or loss, she listens without spectacle. She understands without collapsing.

Today, she lives deliberately. Calm is no longer a personality trait; it is a boundary. She does not entertain chaos, justify her decisions, or remain in relationships that cost her mental peace.

If that means burning bridges, ending friendships, or distancing herself from relatives, she does it without guilt. She has learned that not every connection deserves access, especially those that thrive on control, judgment, or noise.

This is not numbness. This is clarity.

She is a woman who has survived loss, abuse, courtrooms, and reinvention — and chose peace anyway.