to stand again

One late January night, just after 2 AM, I was riding a high. I was three hours deep into a Physics Kinematics problem set, scratchpads and energy drinks strewn all over the table. I stepped into the balcony for a breather and realized this wasn’t my usual burn. It was a distraction.

Earlier this year, I suffered a sudden social death driven by misalignment and my own boundary failures. Then came the hardest part: functioning in public while grieving in private. In this time-frame, I’ve beaten some of my personal fears & made some professional strides that felt strangely hollow. I didn’t know how to fix it, but I knew avoidance would only make it worse.

In that immediate aftermath, I did what was sensible to me: handed my car keys to a friend, cleared all alcohol and anything that could be abused from the house, and spent as little time alone as possible. The first two helped. The last didn’t. Staying consistently occupied meant saying yes to things I normally wouldn’t. And by saying yes, I betrayed who Leroy really is. The results were disappointing but not surprising. I felt more detached across familiar social spaces.

Reflection is a harsh torch, deservedly so.

Even when it has slipped from my grip, it keeps illuminating parts of me that I wasn’t ready to confront. Uncomfortable as it’s been, the torch stays on.

Over time, I’ve re-learnt to do the opposite of what first felt safe: embracing my solitude. It’s been uneasy and deeply vulnerable, but it’s where my mental fortitude began to return and rediscover my strength. Against my judgment, the process hasn’t been linear. Some days are smooth. Others are crowded with triggers. I’ve slowly transitioned from fighting those triggers to letting the moment be what it is.

I owe more than I articulate to a small professional circle that’s grown into a real friendship. They’ve lived through heavier versions of this kind of loss and still show up composed at work, on cameras, and in high offices. They’ve checked in quietly and consistently. That mattered.

Even with strong social support, it’s been clear that this work is mine alone: stripping myself of all titles & awards and rediscovering who I am, recognizing my patterns, integrating them, and choosing to own and shape who I should authentically be. Viola Davis (my celebrity crush, admittedly) writes in Finding Me that “I now understand that life, and living it, is more about being present. I’m now aware that the not-so-happy memories lie in wait; but the hope and the joy also lie in wait.” In this phase, I’ve learnt that rebuilding doesn’t come from explanation or defence but from clarity, consistency, and time (!)

Albeit too early to call it progress, the shape is sth I’m familiar with: a few steps forward and one back. Retreating into my solitude pad, speaking to users, solving real pain with code for my aviation project, pushing my physical PR limits, and leading my project through a seed raise.

Admittedly, I thought this writing would be a release. It wasn’t. What I’m learning is that this alignment is quiet work, moves slowly, and without applause.