When you have nothing left to lose…

Because one day, everything you thought was solid simply collapsed. The foundation you built with so much care — gone overnight. You find yourself standing at the bottom, staring at the ruins of a life you spent years building, one step at a time.

And in that silence, you ask yourself, Where did it go wrong? Why? Why now?
You had everything — the man you loved, a future you could finally picture, happiness, a career you adored, financial freedom. And then suddenly, you’re left facing your own reflection, barely recognizing the person staring back.

Your body carries bruises — not from violence, but from desperation. In a final attempt to hold on, you thought having a child might make him stay. But deep down, you know you can’t bring a child into the world to keep someone who’s already gone. It wouldn’t be fair — not to you, not to him, not to the child.

Meanwhile, your practice is slowly fading. Inflation, the world shifting under your feet — everything feels uncertain. You’re scared. You feel change coming, but even going back to school — as bold as it was — now feels like another crumbling piece of what’s left.

And then, an even deeper wound opens — the emotional crash after freezing your eggs. Postpartum, without a baby. The kind of loss no one warns you about. You lose yourself completely, feeling disconnected from the woman you once were. But maybe, if you’re honest, you were never fully you to begin with — just trying to be loved, even when it meant betraying parts of yourself.

You keep trying to be strong. To smile. To be “the fun one” again, like your friends keep saying. But that woman is gone — or rather, she’s been dying quietly inside.

Then one random day, during a panic attack, you find yourself in your dermatologist’s office, tears streaming down your face. She looks at you — really looks at you — and in her eyes, you see understanding. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel crazy. You feel seen. And those ten minutes change everything.

Because that’s when you decide: you’re not going to fight anymore. You’re going to surrender. To let the shattering happen. To stop resisting the shedding that’s been trying to take place.

What you don’t know yet is that in a few months, you’ll start putting the pieces back together. It’ll still be messy — but you’ll feel strong. Strong because you’re finally seeing yourself, loving yourself, and refusing to apologize for who you are.

You realize that in your desperate search to be loved, you forgot to love yourself first.

I’ve met people like that — women, men — and I’m one of them too. Sometimes life wakes you up in the harshest ways, and it feels so unfair. Some days are still hard. It’s still blurry. But now there’s a quiet strength inside — a knowing that everything will be okay.

From your darkest moments, a new version of you can be born.

Today, I’m envisioning a women’s health clinic — a space for healing, collaboration, and care. It’s still uncertain, still forming, but I’m not afraid to start from scratch. That’s what life is about. Failure only exists when you give up.

We all carry our battles. Yet we keep believing — in the light, in love, in one another. And maybe, that’s what makes life truly beautiful.

To the warriors. To the doers. To the ones who never give up —
You are the real heroes.

With love,
Marine Sélénée