For a long time, I thought the meaning of life was surviving. Getting through the day. Being what everyone else needed me to be. I wore masks for so long that somewhere along the way, I stopped knowing who I was underneath them.

So when people ask me what the meaning of life is, I honestly don’t think I have a perfect answer yet.

Right now, I think the meaning of life might be healing. Learning who you are beyond survival mode. Learning how to feel your own emotions instead of reacting the way you think others expect you to. It’s difficult, especially when you’ve spent most of your life living day to day.

But I’m trying.

I want a life that feels bigger than just surviving. I want to heal not only for myself, but for my son, my fiancé, and the future I want to believe I can have. Maybe happiness isn’t something you suddenly find one day. Maybe it’s something you slowly allow yourself to experience after years of simply enduring.

So maybe, for me, the meaning of life is becoming. Becoming someone who is finally allowed to live as themselves.