July 22nd.
The Leo portal opens. Fire ignites the sky. And in just a few days, my baby girl turns 8.

I’ve been sitting with what that number means — not just in candles or birthdays, but in years… in wounds.
Because for eight years, my reality was shaped by a truth I couldn’t yet name.

There was betrayal happening behind the scenes — breaking the trust I once believed was unshakable.
And when the truth surfaced, it split everything open.

Moments that once felt joyful — our pregnancy, family trips, quiet nights in, buying our first home — became tinted with doubt.
It’s disorienting when the memories you built your life on begin to fracture.
And in the midst of that unraveling, I lost something I didn’t even know was at risk:

My self-worth.

When the Cracks Began

That loss didn’t begin with the betrayal — it started during my first pregnancy.

At home, I was met with distance. I was told things that left me feeling undesirable, even unloved.
What should have been one of the most sacred times of my life — the culmination of years of praying for a home, a family — was met with silence, not celebration.

I rationalized it: “Maybe it’s the stress… we’re moving, becoming parents, adulting in big ways.”
But deep down, I was shrinking.

At work, I faced a different kind of erosion.
I was a chemist in a male-dominated lab, and even though my doctor cleared me for all duties, my boss constantly questioned my ability.
Every move I made was micromanaged.
If I stepped away from my desk or lab station, even briefly, I was met with scrutiny.

Not because I was underperforming, but because he didn’t believe a pregnant woman belonged in the lab.

I was doing everything “right.”
But everywhere — at home, at work — I was being told I wasn’t enough.

And still, I kept pushing.

Because part of me clung to who I used to be — the woman who burned the midnight oil in grad school, who loved her career, who believed in her worth.

Eventually, during my second pregnancy, I found the courage to go to HR.
That investigation didn’t just vindicate me — it revealed a larger pattern and led to my boss’s termination.

But even then, something in me had dimmed.
It wasn’t until I looked in the mirror one day — two kids on my hip — and didn’t recognize myself, that I knew it was time to rebuild.

Mirror Work: The Practice That Rewired Me

The Power of Looking Back

Eight years.

It’s taken me eight years to circle back to myself.

In numerology, 8 is a powerful number.
Shaped like infinity — it represents karmic cycles, strength, and rebirth.

And that’s exactly what this journey has been.
A loop I’ve stepped out of. A truth I’ve stepped into.

I’m not stuck in that loop anymore.
Because mirror by mirror, mantra by mantra, I broke the pattern.

The Lotus in the Mud

Mirror work wasn’t just about the words.

It was about truly seeing myself — in every scar, every stretch mark, every silent ache.

It was about honoring the body that created life, even when the world tried to shrink mine.

Like the lotus, I bloomed from the mud.

The grief.
The gaslighting.
The growing pains.

And the best part?
This time, I’m blooming for me.

🟡 Disclaimer
This is a personal reflection on healing and reclaiming self-worth. It is not shared to blame or shame others, but to speak truthfully to my experience. If you’ve ever felt unseen, unheard, or unworthy — I hope these words help you remember just how whole you already are. 💛