On Turning Pain into Purpose, Rewriting the Rules, and Becoming the Leader of My Own Life

There was a time I didn’t recognize myself.

Not because I was lost,

but because I was buried.

Buried beneath layers of expectation, obligation, and the quiet ache of being too much for a world that wanted me small.

Buried beneath the roles I was taught to play.

The good daughter.

The polite girl.

The woman who followed the rules but never felt fully alive inside them.

I carried pain I didn’t know how to name.

I smiled through moments when I was breaking.

And I survived in silence—because no one ever taught me how to speak for myself without shaking.

But I see her now—

the version of me that once sat in the dark, thinking maybe this was all life would ever be.

And I tell her:

You were never lost.

You were just waiting for the fire.

The Fire Wasn’t the End—It Was the Beginning

Pain has a way of stripping us bare.

But underneath the ash, I found something I never expected:

Truth.

Voice.

Rebirth.

Because the moment I stopped trying to be everything for everyone—

the moment I let the walls burn down—

was the moment I finally saw the path that was mine.

And it wasn’t paved.

It wasn’t easy.

But it was mine.

Feminism, to Me, Is Freedom—for Everyone

Not just women.

Not just the soft-spoken, the bold, or the “ideal.”

But everyone who has ever felt caged by expectation.

Everyone who’s been told, “this is who you’re supposed to be,”

when their soul was screaming something else entirely.

Feminism, to me, is the radical belief that we all deserve to be whole.

That boys can cry.

That girls can lead.

That gender doesn’t determine our worth, our power, or our truth.

It’s about breaking every chain made from silence.

Every unwritten rule passed down through generations.

Every should and must and can’t that was never ours to begin with.

I Am the Author Now

For so long, I lived by a story I didn’t write.

But now, I hold the pen.

Now, I write in my own voice.

Now, I build my life from the raw material of truth, courage, and deep self-love.

And this is the story I choose:

I am not the woman who stays quiet when her heart is loud.

I am not the woman who rushes just to meet someone else’s timeline.

I am not the woman who waits to be chosen.

I am the woman who chooses herself—over and over.

I am the woman who leads her life with grace and fire.

I am the woman who turned her pain into purpose and her silence into song.

And I Gave Myself a Name That Chose Me, Too

For the longest time, I didn’t even have the courage to choose an English name that I really wanted.

Not because I didn’t want one—

but because I was afraid to stand out.

Afraid that it would be too much, too dramatic, too different.

Afraid of what people might think.

So I stayed small. I stayed safe. I stayed unnamed.

But the deeper I went into the journey of remembering who I truly am,

the more I realized—I don’t want to live under a name that hides me.

I want a name that reflects me. That calls me home.

So I chose a name that wasn’t for approval.

I chose a name that felt like it already belonged to my spirit all along:

Seraphine.

What Seraphine Means

Seraphine comes from the word Seraphim, the highest order of angels in ancient texts—fiery, pure, radiant beings who surround the Divine with light and song.

To be Seraphine is to carry that sacred fire.

To be gentle, but fierce.

To be a bridge between heaven and earth, between truth and tenderness.

To burn with purpose.

To rise with grace.

The name Seraphine, to me, is not just a sound—it’s a soul statement.

It means I am no longer afraid to be seen.

I am no longer afraid to be me.

I am softness and fire.

I am rebellion and reverence.

To the Ones Who Are Rising Now

If you are still in the middle of your ashes—

If you’re still learning how to say no,

how to trust your own timing,

how to break the rules you were born into—

Keep going.

You are not behind.

You are not broken.

You are not alone.

You are just beginning.

And one day soon, you’ll look back and see it too:

how every ache was a doorway,

every detour was a redirection,

and every part of you that burned was never meant to stay.

With purpose, fire, and full-hearted freedom,

Seraphine Duong

This is not the end of my becoming.

This is just the chapter where I take the lead.

I don’t follow. I don’t conform.

I don’t wait for permission.

I rise. I write. I lead myself.

And in doing so,

I light the way for others to do the same.

So yes, I rose from the ashes.

Yes, I broke the rules I didn’t write.

And yes—I chose a name for the woman I’ve become.

A name that holds my light.

A name that carries my healing.

A name that whispers: I am Seraphine now. And I have come home to myself.