Rooted: Standing Firm in Who You Are

Yesterday was my birthday, and I woke up feeling… still.

Not excited in the bubbly, cake-and-confetti kind of way. Not sentimental in that “where did the years go?” kind of way. Just still. Centered. Whole.

There’s something about aging that calls you deeper into yourself — past the noise, past the old narratives, past the need to perform. Every year teaches me a little more about the quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly who you are and who’s you are.

And when you really know that, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to knock you off your center.

Knowing Who You Are

When you truly know yourself — not the version the world has shaped, not the mask you’ve had to wear to survive, but the real you — life starts to feel different. You stop chasing validation. You stop over-explaining your peace. You stop bending yourself into shapes that don’t fit just to make other people comfortable.

You start standing firm.

Not loud. Not defensive. Not trying to convince anybody of anything. Just firm — like an old tree that’s seen every season and still chooses to grow.

I think that’s what this next chapter of my life feels like: roots deep, branches open, heart steady.

I know what feeds me. I know what drains me. I know what I’ll no longer tolerate — not from others, but from myself. The moments I dimmed my light to keep the peace. The times I questioned my intuition because someone else couldn’t see what I saw. The seasons I mistook busyness for purpose.

Those days are gone.

Knowing Who’s You Are

And then there’s that second part — knowing who’s you are.

That’s the deeper grounding. That’s the soul anchor.

When you remember that you belong to God — not in a performative or religious sense, but in an intimate, sacred one — you stop worrying about the opinions of people who didn’t plant the seed, water the soil, or nurture your growth.

There’s a peace that comes with that kind of belonging. It’s the kind of peace that doesn’t need defending. The kind that whispers, “You’re already enough,” even when the world tries to convince you otherwise.

Knowing who’s you are reminds you that your steps are ordered, your timing is divine, and your worth was decided long before anyone had an opinion about you.

So when life tests you — when people misunderstand you, mislabel you, or project their pain onto your peace — you don’t crumble. You don’t retaliate. You don’t shrink.

You just return to center.

Returning to Center

Returning to center isn’t about being unbothered; it’s about being anchored.

It’s about choosing stillness over chaos, discernment over reaction, faith over fear.

When I say “center,” I mean that quiet place inside where you hear God most clearly — that inner sanctuary that can’t be shaken by gossip, opinions, or outside noise.

Sometimes that means stepping away.

Sometimes that means being silent.

Sometimes that means forgiving yourself for the moments you forgot how powerful your peace really is.

But the center is always there. Always waiting.

And I’m realizing that the more rooted I become in who I am, the less I need to explain it. The more I trust my intuition, the softer my boundaries feel — not harsh, not rigid, but holy.

Standing Firm

Standing firm doesn’t mean you’re never shaken. It means you know how to find your footing again.

There will always be tests — moments when the universe, or people, or even your own insecurities, come knocking to see if you really believe what you say you do. And when that happens, the best thing you can do is pause. Breathe. Remember.

Remember who you are.

Remember who’s you are.

Remember how far you’ve come.

Because sometimes standing firm looks like silence. Sometimes it looks like walking away. Sometimes it looks like protecting your peace even when your ego wants to clap back.

I’ve learned that strength doesn’t always roar — sometimes it hums quietly beneath your skin. Sometimes it’s the stillness in your chest after you’ve chosen not to explain yourself for the hundredth time. Sometimes it’s simply saying, “No, that’s not aligned with me anymore,” and letting that be enough.

The Gift of Growth

Birthdays used to make me anxious. I’d look back at all the things I hadn’t done yet — the goals, the milestones, the imaginary timeline I thought I was supposed to meet.

But this year? I feel grateful. Grateful for the lessons that didn’t destroy me. Grateful for the people who showed me where I was giving too much. Grateful for the boundaries I once thought were walls but turned out to be doors — doors that opened me to peace, purpose, and alignment.

Growth isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s walking through the same situation that once broke you and realizing it no longer has power. Sometimes it’s recognizing that you don’t have to attend every argument you’re invited to.

And that realization — that deep knowing — is one of the greatest gifts of getting older.

My Birthday Prayer for You

If you’re reading this, my birthday prayer for you is simple:

May you know yourself so deeply that no one can make you question your worth.

May you remember that peace is your birthright.

May you stand firm in your truth, even when the world tells you to shrink.

And may you walk into every new season with the confidence of someone who knows exactly who they are and who’s they are.

Because when you know that — when you’re anchored in that truth — nothing can move you.

You might sway, but you will not fall.

You might bend, but you will not break.

You are grounded. You are chosen. You are whole.

And no matter what this next year brings, you’re ready.

Affirmation:

I am rooted in divine truth. I am unshakable in peace. I am grounded in who I am and who’s I am.

With love, sound, and stillness,

Mika