The Battles That Builds Us

Healing is not a straight line. 
It’s not a success story tied up with a pretty bow.
It’s raw. It’s messy. It’s gutting.
And it’s ours.

I have been healing my entire life.
And maybe, in some way, you have too.

Not in the way that earns applause.
But in the way that simply — stubbornly — survives.
The way that gets up when no one is watching.
The way that breathes even when breathing feels impossible.

I was an abandoned child.
When a parent took moments to claim me, it wasn’t out of love — it was out of power.
The scars I carry — real ones, carved into my skin and spine — are the evidence of what happens when protection becomes cruelty.

Even when I was “claimed,” I wasn’t truly wanted.
It took me over 35 years to understand:
I didn’t just survive without them.
I survived them.
I survived the absence.
I survived the betrayal.
I survived being unloved by the people who were supposed to love me first.

If you know what that feels like —
If you’ve ever stood in the ruins and wondered if you could rebuild —
you’re not alone.

There is a quiet kind of strength inside you, too.
There always has been.

Healing Isn’t About Being "Better"

In my 43 years, I cannot claim pure, consistent happiness or safety.
Maybe you can’t either.
Maybe you’ve also stumbled through abusive hands and empty promises,
Maybe you’ve been made the villain in someone else's story because it was easier than them facing their own reflection.

We know what it’s like to fight giants with nothing but a bruised heart.
We know what it’s like to crawl through the wreckage, alone, unheard.
And we know this:

We are still here.
And that matters more than anything.

The Cost of Loving Anyway

The deepest wounds aren’t always the ones you can see.
Sometimes they’re the ones we carry from loving too much, from trusting too much, from hoping too much.

We loved when it wasn’t safe.
We stayed soft when it would have been easier to grow cold.
We offered forgiveness when it was never deserved.

And if that love left scars —
we wear them with honor.

Because staying soft in a world that tries to harden you is a kind of sacred rebellion.

The Fight to Stay

There have been days when the only goal was survival.
Maybe you know those days, too —
where “tomorrow” feels like a mountain you can’t possibly climb.

I've been on every medication.
I've sat in every therapist’s chair.
I've read the books, tried the treatments, clung to every hope I could find.

And still, some days, it’s a battle.
Still, some days, the victory is simply staying.

And that is enough.
You are enough.

Every morning you choose to try again — no matter how broken you feel — is a triumph no one can take from you.

Why Wanderlust Wellness Exists

Wanderlust Wellness isn’t a brand for the polished or the perfect.
It’s a shelter for the bruised, the battling, the barely-holding-on.
It’s a place for us — for the ones who are still trying, still choosing, still reaching for a softer life.

Here, healing isn’t a race.
It’s not a checklist.
It’s not a competition.

It’s a lifelong act of bravery.
It’s a slow, stubborn, sacred bloom.

We are not broken because we struggle.
We are not failures because we need help.
We are not weak because we haven’t healed on someone else’s timeline.

We are warriors of the everyday.
And every scar we carry is proof that we have survived every battle meant to end us.

If you need someone to say it:

You are not alone.
You are not too late.
You are not too damaged.

Your story matters.
Your healing matters.
You matter.

And every single day you choose to stay —
no matter how messy, how quiet, how small that choice feels —
you are winning.

Welcome to Wanderlust Wellness.
Let’s wander, let’s heal, and let’s rise — together.
One breath, one step, one tomorrow at a time.