There’s a reason people don’t show up for you the way you wish they would. It’s not always because they don’t care. Sometimes… it’s because you never let them see the part of you that needs it. You let them see the composed version. The capable version. The one who has things handled. The one …
There’s a version of yourself you don’t talk about. The one who appears when you feel exposed. When you make a mistake. When you disappoint someone. When you fall short of what you believe you should be. That version doesn’t comfort you. It attacks. Not with kindness. Not with perspective. Not with “you tried your …
There’s a particular kind of shame that only capable people understand. It’s the shame of failing when everyone believed you wouldn’t. Failing while they expect more. Because when someone who is “still figuring it out” fails, people nod. They say things like, “Keep going.” “You’re learning.” “That’s part of the process.” But when someone who …
You say you don’t want to shrink. You say you want to be seen. But if we’re being honest? There’s a part of you that doesn’t. Not because you hate yourself. But because you remember what happened last time you stood tall. Being “good” once didn’t bring admiration. It brought weight. More responsibility. Less room …
You learn how to do it so well, it almost looks like humility. Someone praises you and you laugh. “It’s not a big deal.” “Anyone could’ve done it.” “You should see what they did.” Deflect. Redirect. Minimize. You do it quickly, almost automatically. Like you’re swatting away something dangerous. Because letting it land would mean …
You’re lying in bed. Scrolling. Calm. Bored, even. And suddenly your brain shows you something you didn’t ask to see. An image. Sexual. Violent. Random. Of someone you know. Someone you respect. Someone you would never choose to think of that way. And immediately — disgust. Not at them. At yourself. Why did my brain …
There’s a pause that feels heavier than movement. Not because nothing is happening — but because nothing is visible. This is usually the part where the mind gets loud. Where you start explaining the quiet in ways that hurt you. You tell yourself you’ve stalled. That you’ve fallen behind. That if things were meant to …
Sometimes the hardest part of growing isn’t learning something new. It’s leaving behind the parts of yourself you used to love. The habits that once gave comfort. The routines that once felt safe. The person you once were — the one who laughed too loudly, trusted too easily, loved without caution. You outgrow them quietly. …
Read more When You Outgrow Versions of Yourself You Once Loved
Most days aren’t memorable. They don’t come with good news or bad news. They don’t change your life. They just… happen. You wake up. You do what needs to be done. You eat. You rest. You sleep. Nothing special. And yet — years later — these are the days you miss. Not the milestones. Not …
Nobody talks about the seasons where nothing seems to move. Not backward. Not forward. Just… still. You wake up, breathe, do your best, end the day — and somehow it feels like you’re standing in the same place you were yesterday. Your prayers look the same. Your routines look the same. Your dreams feel close …