5 Lessons I Learned After Overcoming My Darkest Days

It started with a granola bar. Not even a good one—like, stale, off-brand, probably-sat-in-my-purse-since-last-winter kind of granola bar. But there I was, sobbing over it on my bathroom floor like it held the secrets of the universe. I wish I could say I was being metaphorical. I wasn’t.

See, “rock bottom” doesn’t always arrive with flashing red lights or some dramatic soundtrack swelling in the background. Sometimes, it shows up with crumbs in your hair, dried mascara tracks, and the dull ache of wondering how the hell life got this heavy over a snack you didn’t even like.

I didn’t plan to fall apart. I had been doing all the things—working, smiling, texting “I’m good!” like a well-trained emotional gymnast. But under the surface, I was unraveling. Slowly. Quietly. So quietly that even I didn’t notice the full collapse until it was too late. Until everything in me screamed: I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.

Maybe you’ve been there too. Or maybe you’re in the middle of it right now, scrolling through posts like this, hoping to feel just slightly less alone. If that’s you, I wish I could hand you a warm drink, a soft blanket, and the kind of reassurance that doesn’t come with a price tag. I can’t do that, but I can offer something else: truth. Not the Instagram-filtered, love-and-light kind. The messy, mascara-streaked, fight-your-way-back kind.

Overcoming my darkest days didn’t happen all at once. It wasn’t a before-and-after glow-up montage. It was more like a hundred tiny choices I had to make while still doubting everything—including myself. And somewhere in all that chaos, I learned a few lessons that genuinely changed me. Not in a “#blessed” kind of way. More like in a wow-I-can-actually-breathe-again kind of way.

So if you’re looking for five steps to manifest your dream life in 30 days, this ain’t it. But if you want five brutally honest things I had to learn while clawing my way out of emotional quicksand, pull up a seat. I’ll go first.

Spoiler: Some of these hurt. Some might make you laugh. One or two may sound like they came from a Tumblr post in 2011. But they’re real. And they helped me keep going.

Let’s talk about what it actually feels like to rebuild your life after you’ve cracked wide open.

1. I Cried Over a Broken Zipper (And Realized It Wasn’t About the Zipper)

One morning, I spent 17 minutes trying to zip a pair of jeans that were clearly not interested in cooperating. When the zipper finally gave out, so did I—cue full-blown, red-nosed sobbing. Not because of denim. Because I’d been holding it together for so long that a busted zipper was the final straw.

Here’s the thing: your breaking point is rarely the Big Life Event. It’s the quiet, silly moment that cracks open everything you’ve been bottling up. That was the first lesson—sometimes healing begins when you finally admit you’re not fine.

Overcoming my darkest days started when I stopped gaslighting myself into thinking I had to be. Pain doesn’t need permission to show up. But it does need space to be felt. So let it in. Let it teach you something. And then let it go.

2. I Kept Saying “I’m Fine” Until I Forgot What Fine Even Meant

There was a stretch of time when “I’m fine” was my entire personality. Texts? “I’m fine.” Work meetings? Fine. My inner world on fire? Still fine. I said it so often, I started to believe it—even when my body disagreed and anxiety made a permanent home in my chest.

But survival mode isn’t living. It’s coping. And I didn’t want to just cope anymore.

One of the hardest things about overcoming my darkest days was learning how to tell the truth out loud. Saying, “I’m not okay,” felt like admitting failure. But actually? It was the bravest thing I ever did. Because healing doesn’t happen in silence—it happens in honesty.

You don’t have to announce it to the world. Just start with someone safe. Or yourself. Speak it. Write it. Whisper it if you have to. Your truth is still valid—even if your voice shakes.

3. I Compared My Healing to Everyone Else’s Highlight Reel

Somewhere between my third Instagram scroll and fourth existential crisis, I convinced myself that everyone else was healing “better.” You know the type—morning routines, yoga selfies, three-week transformations. Meanwhile, I was celebrating brushing my teeth two days in a row.

Comparison is a liar. Especially when you’re hurting.

Overcoming my darkest days meant rewriting what progress looked like. It wasn’t aesthetic or photogenic. It was messy. Uneven. Beautiful in ways only I could recognize.

Your version of healing is not supposed to look like anyone else’s. You are not behind. You’re not failing. You’re rebuilding—and that’s the most radical thing you can do.

4. I Waited for Motivation That Never Came

Here’s an awkward confession: I thought I had to feel ready to get better. Spoiler alert—I never did. Motivation ghosted me like a bad date. So I had to stop waiting and just… start. Messy, hesitant, ugly starts still count.

The truth is, you don’t need to be inspired to begin. You just need to be exhausted enough with the alternative.

For me, that meant getting out of bed even when it felt like swimming through wet cement. Drinking water when all I wanted was caffeine. Saying no to things that drained me. None of it felt impressive. But all of it was healing.

Overcoming my darkest days didn’t look brave from the outside. But every small choice I made to keep going? That was quiet rebellion. That was growth.

5. I Thought Healing Meant Being Happy All the Time (It Doesn’t)

Plot twist: healing isn’t linear. There were days I felt invincible and others when I dissolved into tears over old wounds I thought I’d already processed. For a while, that made me feel like I was broken again. Like maybe the healing didn’t stick.

But here’s what I learned: feeling bad doesn’t mean you’re back at square one. It means you’re still human.

Overcoming my darkest days meant letting go of the idea that healed = happy 24/7. True healing gave me tools. Not immunity. Now, I know how to sit with hard feelings without drowning in them. And that might be even better.

So if today feels heavy—again—that’s okay. It doesn’t undo all the work you’ve done. It just means you’re still in the process. And that process? It’s still worth everything.

Why This Really Matters

When you’re knee-deep in the messy middle, it’s easy to think the point of healing is to “get over it.” To erase the pain, tie it up with a pretty bow, and move on like nothing happened.

But that’s not what this is about.
It’s not about getting over your darkest days.
It’s about living through them and letting them teach you something real. Something deep. Something that stays.

The reason this matters—why I’m even writing this—is because healing isn’t reserved for the ones with vision boards, calm voices, or perfect lives. It’s for the rest of us. The ones who cried over granola bars and kept showing up anyway.

You’re allowed to be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time.
Your scars aren’t proof you’re broken. They’re evidence that you survived.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.

Conclusion: You Don’t Have to Be Fully Healed to Be Worthy

So yeah. I cried over a zipper. I ghosted my own emotions. I compared, stalled, backslid, and questioned if I’d ever feel okay again. And somehow? I’m still here. Still standing. Still soft.

Overcoming my darkest days didn’t make me some enlightened, Zen version of myself. But it made me real. Honest. Gentle. And a little bit stronger in all the ways that count.

If you’re still in the thick of it, I won’t offer you fake hope or silver linings. But I will say this: you’re not alone. You’re not broken. And you sure as hell are not beyond repair.

You’re allowed to heal slowly. Loudly. Quietly. In sweatpants. With cereal for dinner.

Whatever it looks like—your healing is yours. Own it. Keep going.

And hey, if today feels like a zipper-on-the-floor kind of day, just know I’ve been there too.
And somehow… we made it through.