🩷 Proof of Life (In Pink)

Because Sometimes Healing Grows One Millimeter At A Time #RelationalWisdom

From June 2023 to December 2024, I was slowly dying.

Not metaphorically.

Literally. Life was leaving me. Quietly. Steadily.

But this isn’t about that story.

Yesterday, at a healing retreat, friends teased me—good-hearted, light laughter. They pointed out my toes—bare, a little unkept, with just a tiny chip of pink polish still clinging to two out of ten.

If you know me, you’d understand why that’s funny. Manicured feet are kind of a “Shelby thing.” Showing up barefoot, polish chipped, wasn’t just unusual.

It was…unheard of.

We laughed. And then—I told them why.

For the first time.

Back in December, I went to St. Thomas. It was my turning point—the moment my body said: “We’re not dying anymore.”

I got a pedicure there. A small, simple thing.

But going into the trip, I couldn’t even pack my own suitcase.

So, the simple things meant a lot.

But I haven’t had my nails done since. Not once.

Because as the months passed, I’d look down at that big toe, at that little strip of pink, and watch new growth appear beneath it.

It became my personal Big-Toe-Life-O-Meter.

Each millimeter of fresh nail meant:

“I’m still here.”

“I’m not going backward.”

“This isn’t a fluke—I get to stay.”

That chipped polish became my quiet talisman—a marker of time, a symbol of breath returning to my body.

And now…the pink is almost gone.

The new nail has grown in. And I think it’s time for a pedicure again.

Not because I want to hide the story—but because I don’t need that toe to prove to me that I’m living anymore.

I know now.

I made it.

I’m here. 💗

I know this is a detour from what I usually write about, but it’s actually not.

My healing is controversial in nature. They couldn’t explain my illness, and they can’t explain my healing either.

I had to go all-in on trusting I could heal myself—even without fully understanding how.

Maybe someday I’ll find a way to put that into words. Facing the reality of leaving before I was ready changed me in ways I don’t have words for…yet.

But for today, I wrote this.

🩷 Proof of Life (In Pink)

This little chip of pink on my big toe—
It’s not a style. It’s a timestamp.

A quiet bookmark in the story of my life.

It marks the moment I crossed a line
I wasn’t sure I could return from.

I never repainted them.
Not because I didn’t care,
but because each time I looked down
and saw that polish growing out,
I knew—

I’m still here.
I’m growing forward.
I’m alive.

People teased me—called it chipped, undone.

But to me, it was sacred.
A soft, silent prayer claiming:

“I get another day.”

And now, the pink is almost gone.
The new nail has grown in.

I think I’m ready.
Not to cover it.
But to also be securely grown in.

The next polish won’t be a survival flag.
It’ll be just color.
Just beauty.

Because I don’t need my toe to prove that I lived.

I know now.
I’m still here.

(A little chipped. A little undone.)

…And that’s enough.

~Shelby