The Day I Remembered Who I Am

The Day I Remembered Who I Am

A story for the ones who forgot for a moment.

1. The Fog in the Morning

There wasn’t a loud storm.

No thunder. No wind.

Just fog.

A quiet kind of heaviness that makes you forget where the sun is.

The kind of morning where you don’t remember the dream

or the reason you woke up with your chest tight.

I stood at the edge of the bed and just stared—

not at anything. Just through things.

I knew this feeling.

It’s the moment before remembering.

And remembering is everything.

The lie in the fog?

It’s always going to be this way.

That’s the cruel one.

The body knows before the mind catches up.

It says: “I can’t do this.”

But it’s not the truth.

Just the weight before the choice.

Just the pause before the return.

2. The Voice at the Mirror

I shuffled into the bathroom.

Still quiet. Still disconnected.

Still waiting for something to call me home.

Then I caught my reflection—not just my face,

but the part behind the eyes.

And there it was. A whisper.

Not out loud. But louder than sound.

“You are not the fog. You are the one walking through.”

And just like that—

I started to come back.

In the silence, I heard a voice that echoed home.

It didn’t scream.

It just said, Dziękuję.

Thank you.

As if Poland itself was reminding me—

you’ve never been separate.

You’re just returning.

3. The Battle at the Gate

That’s when they showed up.

The thoughts.

The names.

The pressure.

Hurry.

Fix it.

Get it right.

Prove it.

Be the version they expect.

It was like a swarm of voices at the gate of my mind—

each begging to be let in.

But something in me held the line.

Not today.

Today, I am not letting anything in

that tries to define me by fear.

Fear tries to name me:

Busyness. Not enough. Perform for approval.

But if it’s not real, it can’t stay.

And if it is real, it cannot be threatened.

That’s how I hold the line.

I remember how deep my roots go.

4. The Breath That Brought Me Back

I placed a hand on my chest.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

Again.

With every breath, the fog thinned.

It didn’t vanish—

but it gave me enough light to see the next step.

The breath didn’t solve everything.

It reminded me:

I get to choose how I carry this.

My first deep breath of the day said:

You have purpose.

Your story matters.

And what’s buried deep inside you

isn’t just for you—

it’s for the ones you’re called to serve.

5. The Walk with the Light On

I didn’t have a full plan.

I didn’t need one.

I had light.

Not a spotlight.

Not a floodlight.

Just enough to see the next few steps.

200 feet to be exact.

And that was enough.

With every step, I felt the return.

The weight dropped off.

The walk wasn’t perfect.

But it was mine.

And it was honest.

Walking without a plan feels like trust.

Enough light means I’m guided from within.

It’s not about control.

It’s about connection.

Progress is when I stay faithful

to the beacon burning in me

even when the fog tries to wrap it.

6. The Night I Knew Again

The stars were out now.

I stepped outside, barefoot in the grass.

No more fog.

Just space.

Just breath.

Just presence.

I looked up, and whispered to the sky:

“I remember who I am.”

Not a title.

Not a role.

Not a mistake.

Just me.

Held. Known. Enough.

And I walked back inside—

not to end the day,

but to begin again in truth.

I remember:

You can’t rush your roots.

The road home takes time.

And when no one is looking,

I’m still the one standing on truth—

Still the one led from within.

Dziękuję.

Thank You.

For the voice.

For the breath.

For the return.