Stop Calling It Luck

“You’re so lucky. Getting better emotionally has come so easy for you.”

I. Hate. These. Words.

Do you want to know what “lucky” looked like for me?

It looked like nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was worth waking up tomorrow. It looked like crying in the shower so nobody else could hear. It looked like dragging myself out of bed, not because I wanted to, but because I refused to let the darkness win.

That’s not luck. That’s survival.

And yes, I’ll be the first to say it—I had an amazing support system. People who guided me, who reminded me of my worth, who refused to let me disappear into the shadows. I am deeply grateful for them. But even with that support, none of it was handed to me. They could walk beside me, but they couldn’t walk for me.

Healing isn’t easy. Growth isn’t easy. Peace sure as hell isn’t easy. Every ounce of progress I’ve made has been earned—through sweat, tears, discipline, boundaries, and repeating the same hard choices over and over again until they stuck.

Luck didn’t sit with me while I confronted my past. Luck didn’t stand beside me when I had to cut ties with people who drained me. Luck didn’t pull me out of the mud when I was at rock bottom.

I did that. With grit. With stubbornness. With an unwillingness to let trauma write the rest of my story.

So when someone says “you’re lucky,” what they’re really doing is dismissing the work. They’re skipping over the sleepless nights, the therapy sessions, the constant battle between old patterns and new habits. They’re ignoring the reality that healing is a full-time job—a choice you make every single day to keep fighting for the version of yourself you know exists underneath the pain.

No, it doesn’t get handed to you. No, it doesn’t come easy. And no, it’s not magic.

It’s facing the mirror when you’d rather smash it. It’s calling yourself out when you’re slipping back into comfort zones that will destroy you. It’s saying no to people, habits, and places that don’t align with the peace you’re fighting for. It’s being so damn tired of living in chaos that you finally decide to build something different.

So stop calling it luck. Stop pretending peace “just happens.” If you see someone smiling after years of pain, know that behind that smile is a warrior who chose themselves over and over again when it would’ve been easier to give up.

And if you’re still in the thick of it? Hear me: you don’t need luck. You need fight. You need honesty with yourself. You need to keep showing up, even on the days that break you.

Because peace isn’t lucky—it’s built. And it’s worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.