Moonlit Literati

a quiet story of resilience, and the choice to keep showing up

—————————————————————-

A lot of people didn’t think I’d make it. Not in life. Not this far. Not even to something you could call mildly successful.

But here I am, showing up every single day for myself, for my life, and for everything I stand for.

I grew up in a life that was, simply put, hard. I’ll only speak from my perspective, but anyone who knew us back then would agree- we had it bad.

We experienced homelessness, poverty, and instability. We didn’t always look poor, but we were struggling, deeply and quietly.

I started working at 15. Small jobs, odd jobs, coaching students, trade shows.. anything to make money.

After university, I went straight into work. There was no pause. No celebration. Just survival.

There was a moment in university I still remember.

A boy turned around and asked, “Is your father a cobbler?” and laughed at my worn, stitched-up sandals.

I was 17. A good student. And in that moment, I felt exposed.

No, my father wasn’t a cobbler. But we couldn’t afford new footwear, so we repaired what we had until we couldn’t anymore.

I didn’t say anything. But I carried it.

I was 20 when I thought my life was about to change. I had secured admission and a scholarship to the UK.

But my dad fell sick. Every dollar went into his treatment. I didn’t go.

I don’t regret choosing my family. But I do regret not finding a way to still make it happen.

He passed away when I was 22.

My mother, my sister, and I had lived through years of extreme domestic abuse.

I had just finished my master’s exams and was looking for work.

I remember walking to an interview, feeling nothing, not grief, not anger, just numb.

So when he died, I didn’t know how to feel. There was sadness, but there was also relief.

And that made me question myself.

I got married at 23. It lasted eight years.

When it ended, I didn’t take time off. Not because I didn’t feel anything.. but because continuing felt more familiar than stopping.

When I moved to Canada, I worked everywhere restaurants, cleaning jobs, restoration work, while studying.

I experienced homelessness again. There were moments of instability, and even job loss for my partner.

I moved across provinces until I found stability in a bank call center role, working nights.

Fourteen years later, I’m still there but just at a very different level. I worked my way up relentlessly.

For a long time, the only person who consistently showed up for me… was me.

What does showing up even look like when you have nothing left?

I finally met someone a few years ago, and we got married.

I had my first baby at 40.

People had opinions. Doubts.

But I had faith in myself and in my ability to keep writing my own story, once again.

I had a rough pregnancy. An even rougher postpartum.

And even now, I show up …not perfectly, not effortlessly, but consistently.

It’s not that I didn’t have breaking points. I did.

In 2024, I stepped back from work for three months to take care of my mental and emotional well-being.

When I returned, nothing around me had really changed, but something within me had.

My mindset shifted. My approach changed.

I came to recognize that I had been doing my absolute best all along.

Not a perfect best. Not an easy best. But the best I could, given everything I was carrying.

I’ve had moments where I’ve cried. Moments where everything felt like too much.

And what I’ve come to understand is that, eventually, I find a way to move, not because I’m strong all the time, but because staying stuck has never been an option I could live with.

People often talk about breaking points. I’ve had many.

But I’ve also had something else, a quiet, steady belief that I would find a way through.

Not in one moment. Not in one decision. But over and over again.

And when I look back at everything.. the instability, the loss, the rebuilding, the starting over, what stands out isn’t that I never struggled.

It’s that, somehow, I kept going.

I kept showing up.

And through it all… I’m still here.

And as I continue to write my story, I know I will keep showing up — every single day.

 

For the ones who find themselves here after the world has quietened down…

maybe this feels familiar.

ML