You cannot change where you came from. You can build what comes next.
Make something. Mend something. Make the path easier for whoever walks it after you.
What they did to you forged something. Spend it on what you choose.
The constant reading of a room. The bracing before the blow. The endurance past where most break. That is precision, and you paid for it in full. It does not have to stay aimed at them. This is the oldest alchemy there is: take what was meant to destroy you and make it the thing you build with. Joseph said it plain to the brothers who sold him. You meant it for evil. God meant it for good.
You build the bridge by walking it.
You will not feel ready. The path is not there before you step. Each step lays the next plank. Strength is made perfect in weakness, so the deepest of it comes after the fall, not before. Take the step. The bridge holds under your weight.
Christ was a carpenter. The one who made everything worked wood with his hands. The cross was built. The grave was the deepest repair there is.
To build is to bear his image.
Build for others, not for a name. A monument to yourself is the same old wound pointed a new way.