The Wounded Walk Differently
I came to the Highlands carrying wounds I hadn’t named—years of surviving, smiling, and leading while quietly losing pieces of myself. What I found was a land that didn’t pretend. The Highlands don’t hide their scars. In the barren hills and weathered stone walls, I saw reflections of my own story: stripped back, still standing. This journey through Scotland became a journey into restoration, an invitation to stop hiding what hurt. Sometimes, the land speaks what we cannot say.
