I was scrolling through Insta the other day and saw this quote that I haven't been able to shake off, It said:
"You've weathered too many storms to be bothered by raindrops."
Now, I do not know who wrote this, but I appreciate you a bunch because, It hit me like a quiet truth slipping between the cracks of a chaotic day.
So I decided to write something for you.
Not because I have it all figured out, but because I know what it feels like to be standing in the middle of your life, rain pouring, hair stuck to your face, mascara racing down your cheekbones and wondering if it's a storm or just another Tuesday.
Here's what I've learned: some of us walk around carrying hurricanes in our chest but still manage to smile like it's spring. Kudos to you all by the way...
Let me tell you about my friend Priscilla.
She used to be the kind of person who apologised when someone else bumped into her. Walked on eggshells and laughed at jokes that made her shrink just a little inside. She was kind, perhaps too kind. The kind of kind that lets people build sandcastles on her back while the tide creeps in.
Then life came at her hard.
Within a span of 3 months, she got laid off at the job she had given everything to, her relationship of five years which was nearing marriage crumbled in a two-line text. Her mum got sick, and one morning, she woke up to find her car towed because she'd forgotten to update the registration. Life kept giving her tangerines and... That was her Tuesday.
I remember sitting with her one night. The way she laughed through tears, sipping wine from a mug because all her glasses were in the dishwasher. At least she still had her dishwasher.
"I can't even cry properly," she joked, "my eyes are too tired."
I sat there, just listening and being a shoulder to cry on, but something changed within her after that. It was not loud and it was not sudden. Just gently and quietly changing.
She started speaking up. Saying no. She didn't ghost people, but she politely exited circles that drained her. She cut her hair short, stopped straightening it, and started walking like the ground beneath her knew her name. Because, guess what! It did.
One day, a guy tried to make a snide comment about her weight at a barbecue. She looked at him, took a bite of her burger, and said, "Your insecurity is loud. Can you turn it down?"
I laughed until I cried, but that was the day I realised: Priscilla wasn't trying to be unbothered. She had simply survived enough to know what didn't matter anymore.
Did I learn from her transformation, you bet I did. And that's what this quote is reminds me about.
"You've weathered too many storms to be bothered by raindrops."
It's not about being cold. It's not about pretending nothing hurts. It's about wisdom. Worn in the seams of your soul.
It's about recognising the difference between a red flag and a red herring.
About knowing that someone not texting back isn't the end of the world, it's just a Tuesday night with better sleep.
It's about outgrowing the need to defend yourself when you know your truth.
We live in a world that glorifies resilience but doesn't talk enough about the burnout it leaves behind.
But maybe what this quote whispers to us is this:
That you are allowed to outgrow your triggers. You are allowed to not be bothered by things that used to break you. You are allowed to say, "I've seen worse," and not mean it with bitterness, but with quiet gratitude.
Because when you've rebuilt yourself after the wreckage, piece by trembling piece, you start to understand the architecture of strength.
And it doesn't look like walls.
It looks like windows.
Windows that let the light back in. Windows that let the breeze through. Windows that open when you need air, and close when the storm returns, but no longer shatter with every gust.
So if today you find yourself bothered by something small, a snide remark, a delay, an unreturned message, I want you to pause, Take a breath, And remember this:
You've already survived sleepless nights, ugly cries, betrayals you didn't see coming, moments you were certain would end you.
And they didn't.
You're still here.
Maybe a little bruised. Maybe a little wiser. But always, always still here.
I saw another quote once that said:
"You don't have to set yourself on fire to keep others warm."
And another one:
"Your healing won't always be loud. Sometimes, it's just not reacting."
Let's piece them together, like a patchwork for the soul.
Because maybe that's what healing really is.
A quiet process of choosing not to be consumed by every storm, not because the storm isn't real, but because you've become stronger than it.
Not numb, Not unfeeling, Just... clearer.
And here's the final quote I'll leave you with:
"Be proud of how you've been handling these past months. The silent battles you fought, the moments you had to humble yourself and the times you wiped your own tears... Celebrate your strength."
This one's for you, love. I know it's not easy.
But you're still standing, and will remain st
"And a few raindrops? Please. We've danced in worse."
You've danced in the flood before.
So let this chapter be a mirror for you.
Look into it and see who you've become. Not the person still fixing everything, but the one who has already fixed more than they ever thought they could.
You've weathered too many storms to let a little drizzle ruin your day.
Hold your head high, and let out that laughter or that cry you've holding.
Because your sky is clearing and it's going to be sunny from here on out... Rain drops, We're going to dance in them.
"So if this chapter found you on a rainy day, physically, emotionally, or metaphorically, just know: you're not alone. You've weathered more than this. And darling? You still shine."