Letters To My Journey

This is a quiet corner of the internet where I share reflections, soft truths, and pieces of my becoming. Here, you are safe to exhale. To feel. To belong. To grow gently and boldly into who you’re meant to be.

With grace, always. — Divine

There was a time I committed to becoming healthier.

Life happened.

And somewhere along the way...

I stopped.

Not because I didn't care.

Life simply became louder than the promise I made to myself.

Then one ordinary day...

I felt something different.

Not guilt.

Not pressure.

Just a quiet thought.

I want to take care of myself.

Not because I wanted to be prettier.

Not because I wanted a certain number on the scale.

But because...

there is only one me.

This is the only body I'll ever have.

It has carried me through every season of my life.

And if I hope for it to carry me through many more...

then maybe...

it deserves to be cared for.

I didn't know if I would stay consistent.

I didn't know if this attempt would be different from the others.

I didn't make a grand announcement.

I didn't wait until I felt ready.

I just...

showed up anyway.

The next day,

I did it again.

Small steps.

Tiny wins.

One walk.

Then another.

And somewhere between the days I wanted to quit...

and the days I chose to keep going...

Not because it wasn't real,

but because you never told anyone about it.

Maybe tonight, you don't have to explain it.

Just notice it.

Acknowledge it.

Maybe even give it a name.

Then sit with it for a while.

No fixing. No rushing. No pretending it didn't happen.

Just enough honesty to say,

"That was hard."

And maybe...

hope that, little by little,

I published under D. S. because I thought I needed to hide my identity. I thought people would judge what I wrote.

Instead, they found out an accountant had published a book.

And somehow, that was enough.

It didn't seem to matter whether it was about undefined connections, fiction, or poetry.

To them, it was simply a book.

When my business closed, I thought I didn’t need to renew my website anymore, so I let it expire.

What I didn’t realize was that my email was tied to the domain. By the time I needed access again, the domain was already in its redemption phase. I had to pay more than a normal renewal just to get it back.

I got the domain back.

I got the land back.

But the house I built on it was gone.

I remember the late nights spent building that website, writing blog posts, creating resources, and sharing things I hoped would help someone else. Then one day, I let it all disappear. Not because I lost hope, but because I no longer had the bandwidth to continue.

At the time, I didn’t realize how much I was letting go of.

Over time, I found my way back to myself. And as I began rebuilding my life, I decided to rebuild the website too.

This time, not as a polished version of who I thought I should be, but as who I really am.

This time, I want to tell the full story.

I am slowly coming back to myself.

The past months were not easy. I went through a period where everything felt heavy, and I didn’t have the energy to function the way I normally do. I stayed in, rested, and kept my world very small just to get through each day. At the time, that was what I needed, even if I didn’t fully understand it.

I didn’t really process things as they were happening. I was mostly conserving energy and trying to stabilize myself quietly.

Now something is shifting.

I am starting to move again. I am walking. I am taking care of my body. I am thinking about my future again instead of only getting through the day. Even small actions feel like signs that I am not stuck anymore.

What I went through was a difficult and overwhelming phase in my life.

What I needed then was rest, space, and time without pressure.

What I need now is gentle structure, consistency, and gradual rebuilding.

What I am letting go of is the need to judge that period too harshly.

What I am slowly returning to is my energy, my routine, and my direction in life.

Right now, I don’t need to rush anything. I just need to keep coming back to myself, slowly and steadily.

In 2021, I touched the keys for the first time with Someone Like You. In 2023, I bought my piano so I could continue the practice I didn’t want to leave behind. And today, I shared my progress, raw, unedited, with slips and repeats, but also with joy.

Papa called it an asset. Mama told me to keep going when I have time. Their words turned my mistakes into memories I’ll carry with me.

This song has been with me through years, and so have I, with laughter, wrong notes, and quiet persistence.

(inspired by “Line Without a Hook” – Ricky Montgomery)

I don’t really care about the way you reach for me When no one’s looking. You can take my hand if the room is empty, But tell me, do you like me better from far away?

If I shattered, would you notice? Would your love stay the same? I’ve felt my bones knit back together, And now they carry me forward.

You’re a pond, and I am an ocean. You were ripples, I was storms. All my emotions broke open when you were near, But I’ve learned how to quiet them now.

Oh, I was a wreck when I first met you, Found you in the tide of your own shadows. Was it something I said that made you call yourself a burden? If I could, I would have pulled you from that water. I would have kept you breathing.

But listen close, no. I said no, and I meant it. The wind beat at my back, And I found hope in the breaking. It’s behind me now. I’ve got what I came for, and you can’t touch it.

I dream sometimes, Someone watching me, asking, “Is it worth it?” And I know the answer. There is something, and there is nothing. You were the in-between.

In my eyes, you were still a boy. And I, a woman with her own name. You were a line without a hook, And I will not be the catch that waits for you to learn the difference.

📍Wearing DSMP. Pen in hand. First lounge. Heart full.

There’s a calm here I wasn’t expecting.

Maybe it’s the hush of the lounge. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m here.

Wearing my own logo.

Holding a pen.

Writing in stillness I used to only dream about.

This is my first lounge experience.

And it feels like the most natural place to be.

Everything around me, the comfort, the pause, the quiet pride, was not handed to me.

I built it.

Move by move. Choice by choice. With discipline, strength, mindset, and purpose.

DSMP isn’t just on my sweater.

It’s in my heart.

In the way I carry myself. In the way I choose peace.

In the way I keep showing up, with softness and fire.

Today I sit with the girl who dreamed of soft spaces like this.

And I let her know:

You did it.

And there is more coming.

With grace,

Today, a friend reminded me of something I didn’t know I needed to hear.

“You're not an option. You're the headliner.”

He said it with a laugh, but it landed like a quiet truth.

He continued:

“If the main event cancels, the whole show cancels. But if you're just the opening act, you're easy to replace. You should never be treated like the opening act. You're the main event.”

It wasn’t just about concerts — it was about how I move through life.

How I let myself be seen. How I protect my energy. How I remember my own value even when I’m tired.

I admitted to him I hadn’t posted for two days. I’d been super busy and honestly , just trying to stay afloat. And his reply was:

“Pahinga muna hehe. There's grace in rest.”

That line held me.

So today, I’m reminding myself:

There’s grace in slowing down. There’s power in choosing presence. And I am not here to be optional.

I am here to show up as I am , gently, steadily, fully. Still the headliner, even in rest.

Date: June 21, 2025 Location: Dubai, UAE

Today, something small in size but mighty in meaning arrived in my hands: my very first company stamp.

It’s official now. DSMPFitness isn’t just an idea. Not just a dream. Not just a plan whispered on quiet nights or scribbled into journals. It is formed, registered, recognized, and now, sealed.

This stamp, oval and proud, carries both English and Arabic. It doesn’t hold my logo just yet, but it holds something just as sacred: proof of presence. Proof that I showed up. Proof that I did the hard things, made the calls, sent the emails, asked the questions, paid the fees, filled the forms.

It may not look like much to others, just blue ink on paper. But to me, it says:

"Built with discipline. Sealed with strength. Carried by mindset. Guided by purpose."

My hands held that stamp. My name founded that brand. And my journey is just beginning.

I don’t need applause. Just this quiet, powerful moment of recognition. I did it.

There are nights I feel tender. A little hollow in the chest. Not broken, just human.

So I write this, not to convince myself of anything, but to remember what is already true:

I am whole, even in softness. I am steady, even in longing. Nothing about wanting connection takes me away from myself.

I am not waiting to become enough. I already am.

Life is still unfolding in its own timing, and I can trust what is not yet here.

I am deeply held: by God, by life, and by the quiet strength growing within me.

Love does not complete me. It meets me where I already stand.

I choose myself. And I remain open to love without needing it to define me.

Connection is something I can want, without losing my center.

Even in moments of quiet longing, I am safe within myself.

Seven years ago, I opened a page and began writing. I didn’t have a strategy. I didn’t have a plan. What I had was a feeling. A truth. A story forming quietly inside me.

This blog became a space I could return to in joy, in ache, in silence, and in softness. A quiet corner that held my thoughts without demand. A place where I could meet myself honestly, again and again.

Today, I celebrate this journey. I honor the girl who began it. I honor the woman still writing. I honor the courage it took to keep showing up with open hands.

I’m grateful for the grace to grow gently. For the words that found me. For those I’ve yet to write.

Here’s to all the pages still unfolding, and the love that lives between every line.

Letter to My Journey – June 11

Today, I whisper this softly: I release the weight I no longer need to carry.

Not because it didn’t matter, but because I matter more.

There were moments I replayed a thousand times, wondering what I should have done differently, what I could have said to stay, to fix, to be more.

But I realize now… healing is not editing the past. It’s accepting it gently, without making it my home.

I don’t want to erase my memories. I want to unclench them. Let them soften into stories, not wounds. Let them stay in their place, behind me, not within me.

This is how I begin to have a spotless mind: By cleaning the corners of my thoughts with compassion. By making peace with my patterns. By remembering without reliving.

I am still me, just lighter. Still whole, just wiser. Still loving, just no longer bleeding.

Let that be enough. Let that be sacred.

Reflect With Me

Journal Prompt:

What memory feels heavier than it needs to be today?