The Valley Changed Me

There was a time when I was deep in a storm. It was a valley so low that it felt like the Sun had permanently set on my life. To be completely honest with you, what made it harder was the isolation. It seemed like no one truly understood what I was going through. No matter how I tried to explain it, it felt like I was speaking a language only I could hear.

The more I sat with the heaviness, the more I found myself focusing on what was missing: understanding, connection, clarity, and a way out. I kept looking around, waiting for something, or someone to pull me up and out, but nothing came. It wasn't

until something different stirred in me. I realized that maybe, just maybe, the valley wasn’t punishment. Maybe it was placement. (yes thats a word!) Maybe it was the only place low enough, still enough, quiet enough for me to finally look at what I had been too busy, too distracted, or too hurt to see.

When I really think about it, it was in the valley that the noise of the outside world faded, and all that remained was the truth I needed to face.

Valleys are low for a reason. They're muddy, messy, the valleys are where the roots are.

And roots don't lie. Roots tell the story, of what’s growing, what’s choking, what’s thriving, and what’s dying. (sit with that for a moment...I did)

The valley gave me no choice but to see everything: The parts of me still clinging to old hopes. the beliefs that needed pruning, and the strength I didn’t know I had because I had never needed it so desperately before.

That brave shift in perspective for me happened, when I stopped waiting for the valley to end, and instead started looking at what the valley was revealing, and that changed my life.

I stopped asking, "When will someone come understand me?" and started asking, "What do I need to understand about myself?" I stopped wishing the valley away and started learning how to grow within it. And now, whenever I find myself in one of those valleys, I remember: It’s not just a low or difficult place, it’s an invitation. An invitation to see the unseen, to heal the hidden, and to rise, not the same, but transformed.

And here’s what I know now:

A valley can feel like suffocation.

It can look like failure, loneliness, heartbreak, confusion, and silence so loud it echoes. But it’s also the place where real life, real roots, and real strength are born.

If you ever find yourself in a valley, don’t fight the stillness. Show up fully, muddy boots, weary heart, trembling hands and all.

Bring your honesty.

Bring your broken pieces.

Bring your questions and your tears.

Bring all of it.

And while you’re there, set your intentions fiercely but gently:

I will not lose myself in this valley.

I will see what is mine to see.

I will plant something beautiful here.

I will trust that even here, especially here, God is with me.

I will rise when it’s time, and when I do, I’ll carry wisdom that cannot be stolen.

Rest in the divine stillness, not because you’re giving up, but because you’re gathering strength and because you’re planting hope. Because even in the mud, flowers can grow.

And so can you.

The valley is not your grave.

It’s your garden.

Water it with your tears.

Nurture it with your faith.

Watch what blooms.

With peace and gratitude in my soul

-Yahminah