Sometimes I forget that feelings can’t really see ahead. They only know what’s happening right now, and right now might be a mess. When things have gone wrong for too long, your mind starts learning the wrong lesson — that the bad stretch is permanent, that maybe this is the shape of life now.It doesn’t shout it, it just hums underneath everything, quiet and believable. And then there are these tiny moments where you notice a breeze or someone asks how you’ve been and you don’t know what to say because you realize you’ve been carrying this …
What I Learned When I Stopped Fighting My Own Head
Some mornings I wake up already tired, not in my body exactly, more in my head, like the thinking part started early and the rest of me is still catching up, and I can feel it pulling me into half-written emails, old conversations, small things that shouldn’t matter much but somehow carry weight anyway. It doesn’t feel intense or loud, just constant, like something that’s always been part of the room, part of the air, part of how the day starts, and because it’s familiar I usually don’t question it. For a long time I assumed this was …
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Standing at the Back of My Own Line
I’ve been trying to name a feeling that doesn’t really want a name. It’s not exhaustion exactly, and it’s not confusion either. Days move along, things get done, and if you asked me what I did, I could tell you without lying. Still, there’s this sense that I’m slightly out of frame in my own life, close enough to be involved, not close enough to feel fully there. Like I’m walking alongside my intentions instead of inside them. I notice it most in how easily I adjust without thinking. Someone else’s urgency sets the tempo. Someone else’s …
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The Second That Stayed
I was already sitting there, screen open, cursor blinking in that patient way it always does, and this should have been the easiest part, the part where you just start and let the rest sort itself out, except my body stayed put, not frozen, not resisting, just not moving forward yet. That surprised me more than it should have, because until then I’d trusted starting to take care of itself. I’d built my days on that trust. Sit down, begin, let momentum do the boring, useful work of carrying me through. Even when I felt tired, that first step …
The Quiet, Messy Work of Becoming Yourself Again
I’ve been watching people try to pull themselves back together, and the real moments—the ones nobody posts about—always stay with me. They don’t look inspiring. They look painfully human. A friend once told me she sat on the floor of her shower for half an hour because the water felt steadier than she did. She didn’t plan it or dramatize it; she just couldn’t stand upright that day. Another person said she brushed her teeth three times in a row because she kept zoning out mid-way and forgetting if she’d even started. She laughed when she …
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The Six Truths That Finally Forced Me To Stop Lying To Myself
The funny thing about “personal growth” is that it doesn’t tap you on the shoulder dramatically. It sneaks up in a much ruder way. You’ll be doing something ordinary—washing dishes, scrolling, pretending to work—and suddenly you hear your own thoughts and think, Oh god, I’ve been running the same pattern for years and calling it destiny. That’s how it happened for me. Not a crisis. Not a transformation. Just a quiet, slightly humiliating moment of clarity where I realised the gap between my intentions and my behaviours had become… …
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When I Stopped Overloading Myself, Everything Started Working Again
There are days when the mind finally stops fighting you. The noise settles, the tension lifts, and you get a small, steady glimpse of the person you’ve been trying to become. Today felt like that. Not because I did something heroic, but because I finally took some weight off my own neck. I reduced my goals. It sounds ordinary, but it changed everything. For the first time in weeks, my head wasn’t buzzing with panic or shame. No looping thoughts, no internal tug-of-war, no desperate need to redesign my entire life at 2 a.m. My mind …
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The Season of My Own Making
Some years don’t unfold — they explode.One moment, you think you’ve finally found your rhythm; the next, you’re lying on the ground wondering how something so right went so wrong. I’ve had my share of those years — the kind where progress and pain coexist like mismatched roommates. The past year was supposed to be linear. I had plans, schedules, spreadsheets, even color-coded tabs for every phase of my trek training. But life, it turns out, doesn’t care for bullet points. It arrives unannounced, rearranges your script, and leaves you staring …