A New Chapter

Finding Peace

Elara's world had shrunk down to the four walls of her bedroom. Her once bustling university life—rushing to classes, seeing familiar faces in hallways, laughing at inside jokes with friends—was now a distant memory. Now, the only sounds she heard were the soft scratching of her pen as she attempted to journal and the occasional hum of her laptop when she turned it on to complete her online coursework. Her remote learning arrangement had granted her the space she desperately needed, a way to manage her anxiety without the constant pressure of social interaction.

Journaling was supposed to help, but it wasn't always easy. Some days, the words flowed freely, as though everything she felt was desperate to be spilled onto the pages. On other days, she would just sit there, staring at the blank page, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of her thoughts. Where was she even supposed to begin? The emotions were so tangled that it felt impossible to isolate one feeling from another. When she did manage to write, she usually started with the simplest thing: her emotions. Anger, sadness, loneliness—those were the easiest to name. The more complex thoughts, like the lingering guilt and shame she carried, were harder to address. And then there were the memories of Harrison.

She tried not to think about him, tried not to let his name bleed into her journal. It felt like giving him more space in her mind than he deserved. But it was hard. Even now, after everything, she couldn't fully escape the shadow he cast over her life. Sometimes, it wasn't even conscious. She would be writing about her day, about how she managed to finish an assignment or how she had a brief conversation with a classmate, and suddenly, there he was, creeping into her thoughts. She still felt the tightness in her chest when she thought of their last fight, still heard his voice in her head, belittling her, telling her she'd destroy everything she touched. That phrase echoed in her mind so often that she'd started to believe it.

There was a strange relief in being away from people. Elara hadn't realized just how much of her anxiety had come from being around others. Not having to put on a brave face, not having to dodge the inevitable small talk or awkward encounters, made her feel a sense of calm she hadn't felt in years. But her relief came at a cost. She was isolated now, more than ever before. The few friends she had kept in touch with sent her the occasional text or called once in a while to check in, but the conversations were brief, surface-level. They didn't really ask how she was doing. Maybe they didn't want to know. Or maybe they just didn't care. Either way, Elara felt like a burden, like a ghost drifting in and out of their lives, easily forgotten.

Her friends' lives seemed so perfect compared to hers. She couldn't stop comparing herself to them. They were still out there, living their lives—graduating, landing internships, going on dates, planning their futures. Meanwhile, Elara was stuck. She was barely keeping up with her classes, and the thought of attending graduation ceremonies, of walking across the stage with everyone else, filled her with dread. She couldn't imagine herself there, smiling proudly with her diploma in hand, surrounded by friends and family. It just wasn't her life anymore. She felt like she had fallen behind, like everyone else had moved forward without her.

Her remote learning setup kept her busy, though. She attended virtual lectures, participated in online discussions, and submitted her assignments on time. It wasn't the same as being in the classroom, but there was a comfort in the distance. She didn't have to worry about being seen, judged, or spoken to. Slowly, she began to embrace the solitude. There were days when she wouldn't speak to anyone at all, her voice only heard in the occasional conversation with her therapist or when she ordered takeout.

Therapy had become a constant in her life, though it wasn't always easy. At first, she had resisted the idea. Her mother had suggested it, but Elara had convinced herself she was strong enough to handle everything on her own. But as the weight of her anxiety and depression grew heavier, she realized she couldn't do it alone anymore. Therapy was hard, though. Each session felt like peeling back layers of herself that she had buried deep down, and it was exhausting. Her therapist often encouraged her to challenge her negative thoughts, to face the fear of rejection that had followed her since childhood. But it wasn't as simple as thinking positive thoughts or telling herself she was enough. The feelings of inadequacy were deeply rooted, and every attempt to uproot them left her feeling more vulnerable.

There were moments when she broke down, overwhelmed by everything she had been carrying. She hated how weak it made her feel, how every tear seemed to be proof that she wasn't as strong as she wanted to be. She would cry herself to sleep some nights, the memories of Harrison, her friends, and her father swirling in her mind. It was a toxic mix of grief, anger, and abandonment. The thought that even her father had left her to be with another family still stung deeply. She felt like she would never be enough for anyone. If her own father could choose someone else over her, what hope did she have of anyone else sticking around?

During these breakdowns, her journal became her lifeline. She wrote furiously, her emotions pouring out onto the pages. She wrote about the panic attacks, the moments when she thought she saw Harrison on campus, and how she would freeze in fear. She wrote about her friends, how distant they had become, and how she worried that they were only staying in touch out of pity. But more than anything, she wrote about her fear of being unlovable. She was terrified that the people in her life were only there out of convenience, that the moment she became too difficult or too broken, they would leave, just like Harrison, just like her dad.

But in the midst of all this pain, there were glimmers of hope. Slowly, Elara started to rebuild herself. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't fast, but she was taking small steps. She set tiny goals for herself, ones that felt manageable. At first, it was something as simple as getting out of bed before noon. Then it was finishing an assignment a day early. Eventually, she started speaking up in her online classes, her voice shaky at first but growing stronger with each session.

Her alone time also gave her a chance to reconnect with herself. She rediscovered her love for drawing, something she hadn't done since she was a child. She picked up a pencil one afternoon, unsure if she could still do it, but the moment the lines started forming on the page, she felt something inside her relax. Drawing became an escape, a way to lose herself in something other than her thoughts.

Iceland remained a constant in her mind. She had been there once during high school, a brief vacation that had ignited a dream in her. The more she thought about it, the more it became more than just a dream. Iceland wasn't just a place she wanted to visit again—it was a place where she could start fresh, where she could leave behind the baggage of her past and create a new life. She often spent hours researching the country, learning about its culture, its landscapes, its people. It was the escape she longed for, but it was also something more. Iceland represented hope. The idea that there was still a future for her, that she could still build a life on her own terms, gave her something to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

In the stillness of her room, Elara began to imagine that future more and more. A future where she wasn't defined by her past, where she wasn't haunted by Harrison's words or her father's abandonment. A future where she could finally be free.