reflections on self

When My Guard Finally Rested

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Hate used to visit my heart, but at some point, I realized it was not meant to live there.

It came came as my defender when I was hurt – when betrayal cut too deep, when I felt unseen in my pain. Butor a time, hate felt powerful and purposeful. But what began as armour soon hardened into eternal rage and isolation.

One day I woke up and realized I didn’t need to fight.

There was no war, even if my body hadn’t realised it yet.

Those who wronged me had faded into their own stories, but my heart still kept guard at a door no one was trying to enter.

It was time to let that guard rest.
And allow the tears to come instead of the rage.
Grieve the dream that died, the love that never came, the apology that never arrived.
Letting grief in, did hurt, – yes – but it flowed finally through me when I allowed it.

Hatred on the other hand had stayed far too long, like an unwanted guest, until I showed it the door.

Forgiveness I learned is not forgetting.

I will never forget.

Forgiveness was uncoupling myself from the weight that no longer belonged to my present.

So, I learned boundaries instead.

I learned self-respect.

Self-honour.

Self-integrity.

I learned to surround myself with people who built me up.

I let others reveal themselves first.

I let them earn my trust slowly.

Above all, I learned to always have my own back – unapologetically.

I learned to protect my peace, but with an open hand, not a closed fist.

I carried this burden long enough. In hindsight, far too long.
I lay it down purposely and deliberately, everyday,
because there is more ahead of me – a life waiting to be lived – than the life that no longer exists.

And I refuse to waste anymore of my precious time what was never mine to hold.

~ Evgenia Pimżin

The Quiet Rebellion of Happiness

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I spent a long time collecting reasons not to be happy – and all of them were valid.

I was hurt, overlooked, mistreated, misunderstood.

I carried what others should have carried. They should have known better, been accountable, changed their ways. I remembering trying to speak to them about their behaviour, or confided in someone who brushed off my experience.

Sometimes, I kept their secrets to protect a loved one, or endured their silences because I refused to play their game. I built walls not because I wanted to, but because the world taught me early that softness was unsafe.

There came to an impasse, where I had decide that the past no longer defined the quality of my present. Happiness , I decided, was not a reward for those who had an easy story – it was an act of rebellion for those like me.

It was a quiet, deliberate choice to stop rehearsing my pain and begin reclaiming my life on my terms, because deep down, I already knew what I knew.

Choosing happiness did not erase what happened. It did not excuse cruelty or dismiss my wounds. It simply meant I no longer was willing to make those wounds – or the people who caused them – my mental and emotional home. I can honour my pain without worshipping it. I can remember without reliving.

And yes, the world, kept insisting that happiness was naïve, that in choosing happiness, I ignored depth, injustice, reality and that I was a victim.

But now I know this – happiness, when chosen consciously, is the deepest form of wisdom.

It is not the absence of awareness; it is the presence of perspective. It is what happened when I stopped waiting for others to change and began building a life that nourishes my spirit today, on my terms.

So I released the need to make every scar my identity.

I allowed myself to have joy even if my story is unfinished, even if my heart still trembled when I trusted again. I refuse to believe that I am betraying my past when I choose to live fully.

I am redeeming my life. I am telling the past, I am done with being your prisoner.

And in that space, I learned happiness is neither always laughter or sunlight.

Sometimes it’s a quiet evening where I breath steady again.

Sometimes it’s choosing to let something go without bitterness.

Sometimes it’s simply waking up and saying, “I am still here, and that is enough for today.”

I have learned that the choice to be happy is not about pretending.

It is about returning to myself, and to the life that is still waiting beyond my pain.

I meet it daily noe because it has been waiting patiently for me.

~ Evgenia Pimżin

The Gold Beneath the Mud

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I have never been uncomfortable with difficult feelings – sadness, grief, shame, guilt.
It’s not that I embrace them or draw some unhealthy satisfaction from their presence.
It’s simply that I find profound truths inside them, a clarity like still water that settles my mind, my thoughts, my heart, and ultimately guides me toward my soul.

On the other side of difficult feelings, I always find release – from people, situations, or choices that were never meant for me.
So I invite these feelings in, like a loyal friend who refuses to be “nice” at all costs, who will not smooth over truth or hide discomfort under polite veneers.
They reveal the absence of genuine care in places where care should have been.

The truest friends are the ones who sit in the mud with you, who remain quiet witnesses to your hard passages, and say, “You can walk this path. I know you will. And I’ll be here when you reach the other side.”
Their faith becomes a kind of shelter.

I have no need for those who flinch at my difficult feelings.
They are bright trinkets – costume jewellery at best.
A shine that was never earned.

This too is a difficult truth to speak into being:
deciding who to let in, who to keep at a distance, and who to greet gently but never invite beyond the frivolities of passing time.

These truths are guides to a richer life.
So I embrace them.
They are the most excellent companions –worth the finest gold.

~ Evgenia Pimżin