What was left was ME

Starting over… one of the scariest things for most people.

Being stripped down to nothing is a survival mode that could break even the strongest person down to their knees.

It’s a journey best met with surrender.

I didn’t know where this series would take me when I started it.

I just knew something had shifted, and I needed to put words to the becoming.

Eight weeks later, I’ve written through timelines I no longer chase, choices I no longer guilt-trip myself over, and expectations I’ve set down like heavy bags I carried for too long.

Every week peeled something back.

Some posts came from joy. Others came from exhaustion. A few came from that quiet space between reflection and surrender. I cried so much during these last 8 weeks, and it wasn’t all bad. My heart and spirit were allowed to dig up roots to old trees that had been dead for a long time. Breaking chains to old habits, relationships, and expectations filled me with something I couldn’t once put words to: wholeness.

And now, standing here at the edge of it all, I realize:

What was left wasn’t a broken version of me.

It wasn’t a confused or unfinished one.

What was left—after the unraveling, the rest, the choosing—was me.

Not the me they praised. Not the me they preferred. Not the me I performed.

But the soft, unshakeable, whole version that had been there all along.

I was once a heavy drinker, and now I barely drink alcohol.

My sleep patterns and anxiety have done a 180, and I show up better during my day—even down to how I am as a mother. I’m able to be more present for my babies and my partner. I intentionally dedicated my time once a week to my healing, and it has turned out better than I could’ve hoped for.

When you spend the majority of your time just trying to get to the next thing, and you lie to yourself and say “that’s when I’ll…”—you’ll never stop. You’ll never make time for that happy space, and you won’t create peace for yourself. You’ll allow yourself blips of joy and happiness, but it won’t fulfill you. Right back to the hamster wheel.

If you’ve kept up with this series these last two months, I’d really like to encourage you to face it head on.

Whatever the “it” is for you—please don’t run from it.

Because it just finds sneakier ways to pop back into your space.

Face it, deal with it, and send it on its way.

Don’t be afraid to unravel yourself.

You can’t build on rocky soil, and no matter how much you try to convince yourself it’s going to work out—it won’t. You don’t have to convince the truth. It always speaks for itself.

Staring into that mirror because I wanted better for myself and my family was the hardest and scariest thing I’ve done. And it still has its challenges. But I am better for it—and better for them.

I thought I was building something new.

But the truth is… I was returning.

This series was never about giving you answers.

It was about showing you what it looks like to sit in the in-between—the raw, the holy, the healing.

To speak from the middle, not the mountaintop.

To say: “I’m figuring it out too.”

And if nothing else, I hope you walk away with this:

You are not broken.

You are not behind.

You are becoming—and that becoming is sacred.

What was left was me.

And if you’ve made it to this point…

what’s left is you, too.

Thank you for being here.

For reading. For witnessing. For choosing yourself alongside me.

With all my love,

KM Grant

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