The Slow Climb Back to Okay

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 weight for so long it became the background.
It’s strange how the heart can mistake exhaustion for identity.

Climbing out of that takes time.
Not the mountain kind of time where every step rewards you with a new view, but the ordinary kind — laundry and emails and long evenings that look the same.
You keep moving because what else do you do?

Somewhere along that slow stretch, your breath evens out. The slope lightens.
You start believing, not all at once but in pieces, that you might actually be okay someday.