There are countless expectations we hold onto, hoping for support that never comes. On the day of my cesarean section, I expected a close relative to be by my side, but I was left alone with my newborn, handling everything myself. On a hectic night at work, I counted on my partner to help—but she vanished, leaving me buried under a mountain of tasks. I confided in a friend, trusting she’d keep my venting private, only to find out she had shared it, causing a major problem. I believed my well-wisher would be loyal, but they betrayed me. Everyone seems wrapped up in their own affairs.

After these experiences, I started to distance myself and stopped trusting others. I’ve grown solitary and closed off. When I’m around people, I become guarded, hesitant to speak because I don’t want to feel that pain again.

One cloudy day, as I watched from my window, I noticed a young boy constantly poking a snail. Every time the snail emerged from its shell, the boy would touch it again, and the snail would quickly retreat inside. I wondered—if the snail chose to stay inside its shell forever for safety, would it survive? To move forward, it has to come out.

Life urges us the same way—not to lose hope but to keep showing up, just like that snail.

When have you felt like retreating into your shell, and what helped you come out again?