The Girl I Carry: A Personal Story of Resilience, Faith, and Finding Myself Again

A year of rebuilding, rediscovering, and learning to protect the child I once was.

Finding My Way Back to Her

I was a little girl on a pony once.

Small legs dangling, hands gripping the reins, sunlight warming my face. I remember the grass beneath us, the trees behind us, the way the world felt wide and safe for a moment. I didn’t know anything about hardship yet. I didn’t know about the storms waiting for me, or the weight I would carry far too young. I didn’t know how much of my life would be spent trying to protect a child who never got the protection she deserved.

But I remember her. And she tried. And I’m still trying.

There’s something about looking at old photos that hits differently when you’ve lived enough life to understand what that child actually went through. Last night, I added some of those childhood pictures to my website: the pony photo, the school portraits, and I didn’t expect it to hit me the way it did. I thought I was designing, just updating my site, just curating my art.

But when I saw her, that little girl, I felt something crack open inside me.

I grinned. And then I cried.

Not because I was sad, but because I finally saw her clearly. I saw the girl I’ve been carrying through every hardship, every disappointment, every quiet battle. I saw the girl who deserved softness and safety and stability and instead learned resilience before she learned anything else. I saw the girl who kept going even when life didn’t give her much to hold onto.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt proud of her. And proud of me.

The Life That Followed

My life has not been easy. I don’t need to list every detail; the people who know, know. The ones who’ve seen me navigate chaos with grace, who’ve watched me rebuild myself more times than I can count, who’ve witnessed the quiet strength I carry even when I’m exhausted, they understand.

But I will say this: I grew up fast. Too fast.

I learned to survive before I learned to rest. I learned to adapt before I learned to trust. I learned to carry burdens before I learned to ask for help.

There were years when I felt like I was walking through life with my fists clenched, bracing for the next thing, the next hit, the next disappointment. There were moments when I felt like I was disappearing into the responsibilities, the expectations, the noise. There were times when I didn’t know how to protect myself, let alone the little girl inside me.

But she kept trying. And so did I.

Even when life felt heavy, even when I felt alone, even when I didn’t have the support I needed, I kept moving. I kept showing up. I kept finding ways to survive. And somewhere along the way, I started finding ways to live.

The Last Year: The Turning Point

If I had to choose one year of my life that changed me the most, it would be this last one.

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was transformative.

This past year, I rebuilt myself in ways I didn’t expect, from the ground up. I found discipline, real discipline, the kind that comes from choosing yourself even when you’re tired, even when you’re overwhelmed, even when life keeps throwing things at you. I learned emotional regulation, not because everything was calm, but because I had to learn how to stay steady in the middle of the storm.

I grew academically. I pushed myself. I earned things. I showed up for my future.

I created art, real art, the kind that comes from your soul, not from obligation. I built a website that reflects who I am now: clean, intentional, modern, grounded. I posted my work. I refined my style. I found my voice again.

I supported my family. I showed up for people. I gave love even when I didn’t always receive it back.

I found grounding in church, not in perfection, but in presence. In quiet moments. In reflection. In the feeling of being held by something bigger than my circumstances.

And through all of this, I started protecting my inner child instead of abandoning her.

I didn’t realize it at first. It happened slowly, through routines, through discipline, through creativity, through healing, through the simple act of choosing myself day after day. But somewhere along the way, I stopped surviving for her and started living for her.

This year wasn’t just growth. It was a reunion.

The Moment Everything Shifted

Last night, while designing my website, I added the childhood photos: the pony, the school portraits, the little girl who didn’t know what life would demand of her. And when I saw her on the screen, something inside me broke open in the best way.

I looked at her and thought:

“Girl, you did so good.”

Not because everything was perfect. Not because life was kind. Not because she had it easy.

But because she kept going. Because she didn’t give up. Because she survived things she never should have had to face.

And then I thought:

“People would be lucky to have a woman like you in their life.”

Not because I’m flawless. Not because I’m always strong. Not because I never struggle.

But because I’m resilient. Because I’m disciplined. Because I’m creative. Because I’m emotionally grounded. Because I care deeply. Because I show up. Because I try every single day.

Seeing her made me realize something I didn’t expect: I’ve been carrying her all along.

And now, finally, I’m giving her the life she deserved.

The Present: Who I Am Now

Today, I am a woman who knows herself.

I am disciplined. I am creative. I am protective. I am resilient. I am emotionally grounded. I am spiritually anchored. I am still going through hardships, but I’m not lost in them.

I have routines that keep me steady. I have goals that keep me moving. I have art that keeps me inspired. I have faith that keeps me centred. I have a future that feels possible.

I am not the girl on the pony anymore. But I am the woman who finally knows how to take care of her.

The Future: The Life I’m Building

I don’t pretend that everything will be perfect. Life is still life. Hardships still come. Challenges still show up. But I’m not walking into the future alone inside myself anymore.

I’m walking with her, the little girl who tried. And with me, the woman who is still trying.

I’m building a life that honours both of us:

A life with stability. A life with creativity. A life with boundaries. A life with softness. A life with strength. A life with purpose. A life with peace.

I’m building a future where she is safe. Where she is seen. Where she is loved. Where she is protected. Where she is finally home.

And I’m building a future where I am proud, not just of what I’ve survived, but of what I’ve created.

This is my story. This is my journey. This is my reunion.

I was once a little girl on a pony. And now, I am the woman who found her way back to her.

© 2026 Sarah Retiffe. All Rights Reserved.