Relimence (n.) — the quiet strength born from remembrance; the act of pausing, healing, and finding resilience in reflection before rising again.

Today was a pause I didn’t know I needed. I had my much-needed BFF fix, and for a while, it felt like I could breathe again. True friends have this way of anchoring me back to myself, reminding me of who I am beyond the stress, the losses, and the weight of expectations.

When enrollment for 2L opened, I didn’t rush to sign up. I told myself to wait a little longer, to test the waters before committing. Deep down, I thought that pushing forward might be the best way to cope, to keep myself moving despite everything. So even while I was still undecided, I forced myself to attend the orientation, I bought new textbooks, carefully labeled my codals, and even invested in reMarkable to begin annotating syllabi and drafting case digests. In a way, it felt like I was trying to convince myself that no matter what life threw at me, I could still rise and keep pace.

Eventually, I decided to enroll, dropping just one subject out of the six offered this term so I could at least have a day of rest in between. I thought that maybe balancing it this way would help me find the spark again. But the truth is, the spark never came.

I think the weight of my recent challenges has caught up with me. The grief I’ve carried, the exhaustion I tried to ignore, the sleepless nights and all of it sat heavier than the books I stacked on my desk. The drive I tried to summon couldn’t silence the exhaustion and grief I was carrying. No amount of neatly labeled codals or fresh notes on my reMarkable could hide the truth: I wasn’t ready. What I needed wasn’t another push forward: my heart and mind needed time to rest, not to rush.

So I made the difficult decision to drop all my subjects and I will file for a leave of absence on Monday. The thought of it felt like defeat, as if I had undone everything I worked so hard to prepare. But with time, I know, I will come to see it differently. This isn’t giving up, it’s listening to the quiet voice that says healing matters, rest matters, and peace matters.

I’ve always thought that strength meant moving forward no matter what. But now, I’m learning that strength can also mean stopping, pausing long enough to gather yourself before you take the next step. Maybe this pause isn’t a step backward, but the foundation I need to come back stronger.

For now, I choose peace. I choose rest. And I made a promise that this is just for one term. Not falling behind, just gathering strength. I am choosing rest over pressure, and finding resilience in the pause..and yes, this is my Relimence—my reminder that even as I look back on all I’ve endured, I can carry those memories not as burdens, but as quiet proof of my resilience.

Disclaimer: “Relimence” is a word I coined for myself, drawn from the roots of “resilience” and “reminiscence.” It is not a dictionary term but a personal philosophy I wish to carry with me.

Love,

Ana 💋