How coral planting helped me to rebuild myself

Ophélie was an adventurous and intrepid child. The tragic death of her father when she was 11 years old turned her life upside down. To the point of giving her, years later, the feeling of flickering out. To find her way, she took side roads, fought in her own way, and ended up working in coral plantation. Participating in regenerating the lagoons of Rodrigues, as a way of reviving life and rebuilding herself…

I was never the typical little girl. With two older brothers, I was wild, adventurous, and fearless, climbing trees, playing rough, and running faster than most boys in my neighborhood. But as the years passed, that spark began to fade.

At just eleven, I lost my father. I found him hanged. Too young to fully understand, I cried but never questioned why. The adults around me tried to make me forget, as if ignoring the pain would make it disappear. For a while, it worked. But years later, in Grade 10, the questions started to surface.

Why?

Was I not important enough?

Was it because of me?

Grade 10 was the hardest year of my  life. The weight of my  past, the questions about my father, the struggles of COVID lockdowns, and online classes, it was all too much. But I pushed through. I  passed my exams and moved on to Grade 11.

Grade 11 was not easy either. The school schedule was chaotic after COVID, and I struggled to adjust. When my exam results came back, they weren’t what I had hoped for. I’d failed.

My family blamed me. I felt like a disappointment. But my teachers had a different perspective: “Faut reculer pour mieux sauter” – You have to step back in order to jump higher.

Determined to prove myself, I worked harder than ever. Late-night studying, early morning revisions, I pushed through and passed. But instead of continuing on the same path, I made a bold decision.

I left school.

The transition was difficult. I wasn’t just leaving behind a place but also the teachers who had supported me. When people asked about my future, I had no clear answer. But life had its own plans.

Encouraged by mentors, I enrolled in a tourism program at Polytechnic. Though it wasn’t my first choice, I adapted, learned, and grew in ways I never expected. But just as things were falling into place, another challenge came up : a big fight with my brother, the person I had always seen as my best friend.

I found myself asking : When will life get easier?

Then, something shifted. I stopped waiting for life to change and started changing myself. I dressed differently, not for others, but for myself. I saw the world through a new lens, one of self-acceptance and quiet strength.

As the new year arrived, I made a promise to never let myself feel small again.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The sea had always been a part of my life. This love for the ocean came from my big cousin, who I’ve always looked up to. The ocean had always pulled at me, called me in a way nothing else did. When I got the opportunity to work in coral restoration, I hesitated. Why me? I wondered.

But as I submerged myself into the underwater world, I found peace. Coral restoration wasn’t easy. It required patience, precision, and a deep understanding of the delicate balance of marine life. But I loved every second of it. The ocean was healing. Working to restore life beneath the surface mirrored the journey I had taken to rebuild myself.

I was never the type to say “I love you” easily. For me, love was in the small gestures, in thoughtful gifts, in remembering details about people, in simply being there. Maybe that’s why I became a godmother. My goddaughter and little cousin became the unexpected lights in my life, reminding me that love is felt, not just spoken.

If you had asked me a year ago who I was, I wouldn’t have known how to answer. But now, I do.

I am the girl who lost herself and fought to find her way back.

I am the girl who once carried the weight of the world but learned to set it down.

I am the girl who once lived for others but now lives for herself.

My story isn’t perfect. I still have bad days. But I am no longer waiting for life to get easier.

I am choosing happiness.

I am choosing myself.

And for the first time in a long time… I am free.

Ophélie, 19 years