The First Mile

Dear Delyara, I ran a mile today. To most people, that’s nothing. But to me—someone who has struggled with chronic pain and self-loathing for a decade—it was a marathon. I cried at the half-mile mark, but I didn't stop. When I finally finished, I stood in the middle of the path and laughed out loud. My body isn't "broken"; it’s a survivor. I’m learning to stop punishing it for what it can’t do and start celebrating what it can. Today was a mile. Tomorrow, who knows? I’m finally moving forward, and that is enough.