Growth Beyond Obstacles

Every now and then, a song comes along at exactly the right moment. It doesn’t just play in the background—it stops you in your tracks, makes you listen closer, and speaks straight into your story. That’s what happened to me just a few days ago when I stumbled across Built from Broken by Georgia Phantom. I wasn’t expecting much at first, just another song in the shuffle, but within moments of hearing the opening line—“You’re not your mistakes, you’re not your past, you’re every time you get back up when nobody thought you would”—I knew this wasn’t just another song. This was an anthem I didn’t know I had been waiting for.

For so long, I’ve carried the weight of mistakes, setbacks, and seasons that I thought defined me. I’ve lived through illness, exhaustion, heartbreak, and career uncertainties. I’ve been the girl who doubted herself, who worried if she was good enough, who wondered if she would ever find her way. But hearing those words for the first time reminded me of a truth I’ve been slowly learning: I am not the sum of my failures. I am every comeback, every time I stood up again when no one thought I could.

When the chorus hit—“When the world tried to break me down, I rose from the ashes, never hit the ground. Yeah, my heart’s got cracks, but it still beats loud. I’m built from broken and I’m proud”—it felt like the soundtrack of my current season. These past months haven’t been easy. I’m balancing multiple jobs, pushing through my MBA program, training for 5Ks, and rebuilding my health and confidence after weight loss surgery. There are days when I feel cracked, days when I feel tired, days when I question how much further I can push. And yet, my heart beats louder than it ever has. My spirit rises louder. My journey is not polished or perfect, but it is strong, and it is mine.

The verses of the song dug even deeper into my soul. “I was raised in the shadows when the hope felt thin, when the nights got cold and the fears creeped in. Had a head full of doubt and a heart so bruised, but I learned real quick how to heal my wounds.” That lyric could have been written straight from my journals. There were nights I lay awake with fears that seemed endless. There were days when hope felt like a distant dream. But it was in those dark places that I found my fire. My doubts may have been loud, but somewhere in the middle of them, resilience was being born. For every fall, for every tear, for every scar—I was being prepared for the fight I’m in now.

Hearing this song so recently has made me reflect on all the ways my setbacks have become my battle cries. Every rejection letter I’ve received in my career has pushed me to study harder, to sharpen my skills, to demand more of myself. Every diagnosis and every health challenge has reminded me that my body may carry scars, but those scars are proof of survival. Every season of silence and self-doubt has prepared me to speak louder now, to share my story unapologetically, to let my voice be heard.

The second verse felt just as personal: “I have been lied to, used, left out in the cold. But the pain never owned my soul. Every promise they broke, every door they closed, made me stronger than they will ever know.” In my life, I’ve known what it feels like to be overlooked, misunderstood, or pushed aside. I’ve known the sting of broken promises and the ache of closed doors. Yet, sitting here now, I realize those moments did not own me—they built me. Each disappointment became redirection. Each “no” carved the path toward a bigger “yes.” Every person who doubted me unknowingly fueled the fire that drives me today.

That’s the beautiful thing about pain—it can break you or it can build you. For me, it has become the foundation of strength I never knew I had. I am proof, as the song says, that you can rise even when you feel small, that love can run deeper than hurt, and that belief in yourself can carry you further than you ever imagined.

One of the most powerful parts of the song comes in the bridge: “Don’t you ever think that you are less than whole, your story of strength they never told.” I had to pause when I heard that line for the first time. For so long, I believed I was “less than.” Less healthy, less beautiful, less successful, less worthy. But my story is not one of lack. My story is one of wholeness, of strength, of resilience. I am not missing pieces. I am complete because I’ve learned to rebuild from what was once broken.

And then the outro tied it all together with words I will carry with me: “Every scar is a reminder that you survived, every bruise is a lesson in the skies. You’re built from broken, that makes you unstoppable.” Those scars—physical from surgery, emotional from heartbreak, spiritual from doubt—are not things to hide. They are evidence. They tell the story of every time I refused to quit. They remind me that brokenness is not the end but the beginning of something stronger.

It’s wild to think I only discovered this song a few days ago, because it already feels like it has always been with me. It mirrors the very place I am standing in life right now. Seven months post-surgery, seventy pounds lighter, training for my races, pursuing my MBA, holding down work, and still choosing joy with my fiancé as we plan our future together. I don’t see perfection in my reflection, but I see survival, strength, and pride.

I didn’t know I needed a song to remind me of who I’ve become, but Built from Broken has done exactly that. It reminds me that resilience is louder than fear, that scars are strength and not shame, and that brokenness is not weakness but beauty rebuilt. It reminds me that being built from broken means being unstoppable.

And so I sit here, proud of my scars, proud of my cracks, proud of my journey. Because they have made me into someone I never thought I could be. I am built from broken—and I am proud.

Sometimes the right song doesn’t just find its way into your playlist. Sometimes it finds its way into your life. This one showed up just days ago, but I know it will carry me forward for years to come.