You Won't Break (My) So(U)l

24 years ago, on July 19, the universe decided it could not exist without me.

As I reflect on this birthday and the person I've become, I find myself returning to this short poem by Mary Oliver called "The Uses of Sorrow:"

“Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.”

I have been reflecting on my experiences and growth thus far and have been extremely pleased with myself. 6 years ago, I felt imprisoned in my own mind, drowning in negative self-talk, unable to make decisions for myself, and struggling to form opinions that weren't just echoes of what I'd been told to believe by people who once had authority over my life—simply because that was normalized as "this is the way to live." In fact, the hardest thing I had to overcome was being able to let go of people who played such an integral role in my life but were limiting me and preventing me from growing as an individual.

The negative experiences and moments where I betrayed myself (regardless if it was knowingly or not) just for the sake of pleasing others—among many other things—became a gift because they formed my north star of what matters to me and what I no longer tolerate. I can truly see it as a gift now because of who I am and how I operate. If I didn't have these experiences, I would not be who I am currently.

I am in control of myself. I have low tolerance for misalignment. I do not self-deprecate whatsoever, especially in a world that already thinks less of me. In addition, I have created a space where I provide myself an unfathomable level of compassion, grace, and accountability as I continue to unlearn beliefs that were ingrained in me growing up—beliefs that limit who I am capable of becoming.

I started from ground zero. Well, maybe level 1 since I had something to work with lol. I questioned everything I was taught and ingrained to believe. I became my own researcher—consuming everything from academic articles to TikTok videos of people sharing their life experiences and transformations, having deep conversations with people whose perspectives challenged my assumptions, gathering different viewpoints from real-life conversations. Through journaling, I processed it all, keeping what resonated with me most and using it as a tool for improving my life.

This journey reminds me of the ending of my senior year in high school. I was part of the IB program, and to conclude our high school experience, the teachers and coordinator held a banquet for us. There was a portion during the banquet where the teachers created awards for all of us that reflected our character and personalities. My award was "The Shoots for the Stars: because he can't be held down; he's limitless." I have deep respect for teachers because throughout my K-12 education, I had multiple teachers who spoke life into me, who saw my efforts and potential and found opportunities to send my way, who spoke highly of me.

That award felt and still feels like a prophecy written over me because I always refer back to it whenever I'm in the slumps and need a reminder of my why. It's become the foundation of how I see myself: not as someone who can be contained or limited, but as someone who naturally reaches for more.

At 24, I have rebuilt the foundation of who I am as an individual: my character, my values, my drive and motivations, and the standards I have set for myself. Now, I can move forward in being able to build and create the life I have the courage to imagine for myself and put in the work to actualize it.

One of my mottos that guides this new chapter is: the love of my life is the love of my life. What I mean by this is that my relationship with myself—the care, attention, and devotion I give to my own growth and well-being—is the most important relationship I'll ever have. Everything else flows from there.

I'm aware that I'll continuously deal with triumphs and challenges in my life. I know that this can be done in a joyful way because I now have examples of that in my life and am making a concerted effort to be intentional in all that I do.

In calculus, you learn that the limit does not exist. Just like how sin(1/x) oscillates as it approaches zero, that's exactly how personal growth works as well. You don't progress in a straight line. You might have setbacks, breakthroughs, failures, and victories all oscillating together. You might mistake this natural fluctuation for chaos, but mathematically, it's proof you're approaching something infinite.

This reminds me of a quote I found on Twitter: "life ain't linear, don't ever lose the plot."

In the words of my previous teachers, I am limitless because I cannot be held down. In the words of math, the limit does not exist. Hence, I believe that is where the magic happens—in that space of infinite possibility.

And in a world where I'll come across people who will attempt to limit me and try to put me in a box, navigating systems that aren't set up for me to succeed and thrive, I chant in my mind the song "Break My Soul" by Beyoncé. Because no matter what comes my way, you won't break my soul and you won't break me: Sol.

The darkness I was given has become my light. The limitations others tried to place on me have become my launching pad. At 24, I'm not surviving — I'm oscillating toward infinity, and that's exactly where I belong.