“Would you go back and change anything if you could?”
For years, I hesitated. My mind would scroll through a highlight reel of pain: childhood bullying, betrayals, the losses that hollowed me out. The things I said. The things I didn’t. The moments where fear or shame stood in for courage. Surely, I thought, given the chance, I’d fix the broken parts.

But somewhere along the way, the answer shifted. Slowly, and then all at once, it became clear: No. I wouldn’t change a thing.

That doesn’t mean my life has been easy. I’ve carried grief like a second skin. Stumbled through self-doubt. Wrestled with anxiety. Learned to hide parts of myself just to feel safe. I’ve buried loved ones too soon, sat in the hollow echo of rejection, and wondered if I’d...

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