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There’s something oddly painful about being genuinely happy for other people while wondering when it’ll be your turn. You clap, you comment congratulations, you show up for them with love, but deep down, you feel that ache. Not jealousy, a longing. To hear the words, “I’m proud of you,” You start questioning your own pace. You think, maybe I missed something, maybe I’m not doing enough. No one really tells you how hard it is to stay kind and hopeful while feeling left out by time. Still, you show up. You keep rooting for others because you mean it. Even with the hurt, you mean it.
But you're trying...
And then there’s the smile. The one you wear so well, people think you’re fine. Heck, you’ve even perfected it, it doesn’t crack even when your whole world feels off balance. You say I’m okay, you laugh when you’re supposed to. You take cute selfies, you post something funny, you try to convince yourself it’s not that bad. But when you get home, and the lights are off, and there’s no one around, it hits you. That weird mix of exhaustion and feeling overwhelmed that no amount of sleep seems to fix. You try not to spiral, and you try to keep faith. Because life doesn’t stop, and neither can you.
But you're trying...
Then, you have one of the strangest griefs, the grief of losing yourself while trying to become better. You think you’re improving, setting boundaries, unlearning habits, healing, taking accountability, but suddenly you realize you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. You miss the old version of you, the one who didn’t overthink everything, the one who laughed more easily, the innocent one, the one who trusted faster, and loved harder. But that version of you also tolerated things you shouldn’t have, and now you’re in this uncomfortable in-between. You don’t want to go back, but you don’t fully know how to move forward either.
But you're trying...
You start feeling like you're triggered by almost everything and everyone. A small comment, a change in tone, a delay in a text, suddenly your chest tightens and your mind starts racing. You overthink every silence, analyze every look, replay every word. You keep telling yourself it’s not that deep, but your body reacts before logic can calm it down. Healing makes you aware, but sometimes it also makes you raw. You start noticing the tiniest shifts. It's exhausting trying to stay calm in a body that keeps preparing for war.
But you're trying...
And then there’s mental health, the constant battle between wanting to get better and being too tired to keep fighting. It’s hard to explain to people that sometimes the smallest tasks feel like climbing a mountain. That hope doesn’t really come easy. That you’re doing your best even when it doesn’t look like it. That some days existing is enough, that’s all you can give, and that has to be okay.
But you're trying...
Sometimes, trying looks like crying in the shower and then still showing up to work. Sometimes it’s sitting in a corner, hands shaking, reminding yourself that you’ve made it through worse. Sometimes it’s admitting you’re not fine and asking for help. Sometimes it’s just breathing through another hour. Still showing up for yourself, even when it doesn’t make sense. That’s courage. Maybe you’re not where you want to be yet, but you’re not where you were either. You’re in the middle, and that’s where growth happens.
You’re trying, and that counts for more than you realize.
I’m also trying. And for today, that’s enough.
Thanks a bunch for sticking around.
See you next time, bye!🤎