There have been periods in my life when I wasn’t falling apart.
I was getting up.
Doing what needed to be done.
Answering messages.
Looking after the people who depended on me.
Remembering appointments, making plans, sorting out problems and somehow getting from one end of the day to the other.
From the outside, I probably looked fine.
And because I was still functioning, I told myself I was fine too.
But functioning and feeling okay aren’t always the same thing.
I know that now.
Sometimes you can carry on with life while feeling completely worn out underneath it.
You can laugh and still be struggling.
You can have good days and still be carrying something heavy.
You can be grateful for your life and still admit that parts of it are difficult.
Those things can exist together.
I think it took me a long time to understand that.
There was always another reason to keep going.
Something needed doing.
Someone needed me.
Tomorrow had its own list waiting.
So I became very good at telling myself, I’ll deal with how I feel later.
Later is an interesting place.
We send so much of ourselves there.
I’ll rest later.
I’ll think about it later.
I’ll do something for myself later.
I’ll admit I’m exhausted later.
And then later becomes next week, next month, or whenever life finally becomes quiet enough to give us permission.
Except life doesn’t always become quiet.
Sometimes we have to make the space ourselves.
I’m learning to do that now.
Not perfectly.
Some days I’m still guilty of pushing through when I should probably stop.
But I’m getting better at noticing when I’m emotionally tired instead of waiting until I’m completely drained.
I’m learning that rest doesn’t always mean sleep.
Sometimes rest is not explaining yourself.
Sometimes it’s putting your phone down.
Sometimes it’s saying no without spending the rest of the evening feeling guilty about it.
Sometimes it’s sitting with a cup of tea while it’s actually still hot.
Sometimes it’s allowing yourself to have an ordinary day without trying to turn it into a productive one.
And sometimes it’s admitting:
Actually, I’m not okay today.
There is something freeing about that sentence.
Not because saying it fixes anything.
It doesn’t.
But because pretending takes energy too.
I’ve spent enough of my life believing strength meant carrying everything without letting it show.
I see strength differently now.
Sometimes strength is carrying on.
Sometimes it’s stopping.
Sometimes it’s asking for help.
Sometimes it’s changing your mind.
Sometimes it’s accepting that the version of you who could manage everything six months ago might need something different today.
That’s not failure.
That’s being human.
Perhaps that’s one of the strangest things about becoming.
We imagine growth will make us tougher.
More certain.
Less affected by things.
But some of my growth has looked completely different.
I’ve become more willing to listen to myself.
More willing to admit when something hurts.
More protective of my peace.
More comfortable leaving some things unfinished.
And much less interested in proving how much I can carry.
There are still things I’m figuring out.
There are still days when I slip back into old habits and convince myself I should be coping better.
But I’m beginning to catch that word.
Should.
I should be further ahead.
I should be stronger by now.
I should have moved on.
I should be able to handle this.
Maybe I don’t need another should.
Maybe I need a little honesty instead.
So tonight, if you’ve been functioning so well that nobody has thought to ask how you are, perhaps you can ask yourself.
Not the automatic version.
Not, “I’m fine, what’s next?”
The real version.
How am I, really?
You don’t have to turn the answer into a plan.
You don’t have to fix anything tonight.
You don’t even have to fully understand what you’re feeling.
Just notice.
Maybe write it down.
Give the feeling somewhere to exist besides inside you.
And if the answer is, I’m tired, let that be an answer.
If it’s, I’m actually doing okay, let yourself enjoy that too.
If it’s complicated, unfinished or difficult to name, that’s allowed.
You are allowed to meet yourself exactly where you are.
Not where you thought you’d be by now.
Not where everyone else thinks you should be.
Here.
As you are.
Perhaps that’s where becoming begins.
A page for you
Before you leave, finish these sentences somewhere private:
Lately, I’ve been pretending I’m okay with…
Something I’ve been carrying quietly is…
What I need more of right now is…
One thing I can stop expecting myself to handle perfectly is…
And finally:
If I spoke to myself with complete honesty tonight, I would say…
You don’t need beautiful answers.
You only need your own.
Elorine
From The Morish Journal