Life’s Journey from Survival to Sanctuary

In the recent past, when I was going through tremendous crisis with numerous losses, I used to feel very worried and depressed about it. The storm that I faced didn't come with any advanced announcement. It just arrived, ruthless and relentless, tearing through my life like a hurricane through a paper house. One by one, the pillars I'd built my world upon came crashing down. Jobs vanished like mirages in the desert. Rejections piled up like winter snow—cold, silent, suffocating. Each "no" felt like a knife twist, each silence after an interview a small death. I gave my best to the void, only to watch it devour every ounce of effort, leaving behind silence and fatigue. My world dimmed. My food lost its flavour. My nights were sleepless. My mornings felt like mourning. In the mirror, I saw myself as a stranger—with dimmed eyes, slumped shoulders and quiet & unravelling soul.

And in that deafening silence of despair, questions echoed in my heart like a thunder:

“Why me?”

“Why now?”

“Why again and again?”

The universe offered no answers. Just silence. But even in that silence, I stumbled upon a deeper truth.As Gautam Buddha said:

"In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you."

Pain, I discovered, is a strange alchemist —it carves you down not to destroy, but to reveal. I started excavating my past—not with nostalgia, but with the fierce curiosity of an archaeologist uncovering buried treasure. Layer by layer, I dug through the sediment of my younger years, and there it was: a pattern as clear as lightning across a midnight sky. Every single breakthrough in my life—every moment of triumph, every surge of growth—had been born from the ashes of what felt like absolute destruction.

The revelation hit me like a thunderbolt: It wasn't luck that had saved me before. It was the fire I'd forged in my own soul.

I remembered the frightened girl I once was, stepping into hostile workplaces where condescension dripped from every interaction. I remembered the sting of being dismissed, the burn of being underestimated, the acid taste of insults disguised as feedback. But I also remembered something else—something powerful and defiant: I had refused to let their poison become my truth.

Back then, I had asked myself two questions that would become my lifeline:

·      “If I let this break me, will I ever become who I was meant to be?”

·      “What if every insult is not a wall, but a mirror—and I can choose how to reflect it?”

And I chose to reflect power. Quietly, steadily, I learned to tame my emotional storms. I stopped letting pain dictate my decisions. I re-trained my thoughts, like wild horses, until they obeyed a higher purpose. I learned that my mind was not my enemy—it was my tool.

But the most life-altering shift happened when I stopped resisting my life and began accepting it.

I stood before the mirror and whispered to myself—like a mother comforting her child:

"Swati, this is your path. It's thorny, it's steep, it's nothing like the smooth highway others seem to travel. But it's yours. And if you can find the courage to walk it—really walk it—you'll discover a strength you never knew you possessed."

That acceptance was like stepping into sunlight after years in a cave. Even when the external storms raged on, something inside me had found shelter. I became my own sanctuary.

I began to write—not just thoughts, but prayers, confessions and learning. My diary became a sacred space where I could be both student and teacher for myself. When despair knocked, I would sing to myself—not because I felt joyful, but because I remembered what joy felt like

I fed my soul poetry, music, and the wisdom of those who had walked their own dark valleys.

As Rabindranath Tagore once wrote:

“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”

I became that bird. Singing through the night. Trusting that the light would return.

And it did.

Life stopped feeling like a punishment and started feeling like a pilgrimage. Every difficulty became a prayer, every setback a stepping stone. The job that found me wasn't just employment; it was vindication. The company didn't just offer me a position; it offered me dignity, growth, a place where my worth wasn't questioned but celebrated. Financial stability followed, but by then, I had already found something more precious: the unshakeable knowledge that I could weather any storm because I had learned to dance in the rain.

Now, I no longer cling to outcomes like a lifeline. I don’t measure myself against others’ timelines. I don’t crumble when expectations aren’t met. Instead, I ask myself:

“How can I make this day a meaningful and purposeful one?”

“How can I live with truth and tenderness, even when life is hard?”

Success, I’ve learned, isn’t a finish line or a trophy. Sometimes, it’s just choosing to get up again. Sometimes, it’s the radical act of being gentle with one’s self when the world has only offered ruthless cruelty. Sometimes, it's looking at the wreckage and saying: "I’m still here. I’m still whole and alive. As long as I am alive, I will accept whatever is happening to me and live with peace and positivity "

The storm didn’t destroy me.It awakened me.

In its wreckage, I uncovered not weakness, but willpower.Not despair, but determination.Not the end of my story, but the beginning of a new chapter—written on my own terms.

Today, I stand not as someone who merely survived, but as someone who rose.And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

You don’t need everything to go right for your life to feel right.You don’t need applause to validate your worth.You just need the courage to keep walking—one honest step at a time—through the fire, through the fog, toward your truth.

So, if you’re standing in the storm right now, trembling and tired, let me whisper this to your heart:

You are not alone. You are not defeated. And your story isn’t over.Hold on. Breathe deep. And trust the light within you.

Because even in the darkest hour,you are becoming something extraordinary.

As Rabindranath Tagore reminds us:

“Let your life lightly dance on the edges of time like dew on the tip of a leaf.”

So, let’s dance in life’s storm—with courage, confidence and joy