06:02 Jan 31 2026
Times Read: 47
Today has been one of those days where melancholy is a steady presence. Whispers from the past have put weight to it, causing it to linger like a dense fog that surrounds me. I tried to brush it away, but it wouldn’t disperse. So, I chose to sit with it and just see where it would take me.
The whispers became clearer and, within the fog, some clarity for that bit of melancholy emerged. The sadness was for a young girl who lost time and possible moments due to putting herself second in the queue of priorities. Had she been strong for herself and not just those around her, maybe, just maybe, she could have had something in the present that she kept moving further down the list in the past.
It wasn’t just strength that played a role in that. There was also a fear so deep it was once unnameable and shapeless. Today it’s taken shape, one I am able to name: the fear of loss. Which makes so much sense to the present me, because loss was a theme for many years of my life.
I think it is that loss that allows me to have a sense of understanding with some situations. When information about styles pops up, I start to connect the dots, link things, and see cause and effect. Now that I can name that fear as loss, I can understand more about the style, what caused it, and how it affected situations. It’s also allowed me to see the realness of it and stop questioning if it was just an illusion. While it does lift a lot of the heaviness I carried, a bit of sadness still stays. I think a bit of it always will, due to seeing glimpses behind the curtain. And for what was behind the curtain, now I will hold it with tenderness, not the unkindness I did previously.
For the rest of the time before I close my eyes and fall into sleep, I’ll flutter in a state of existence, sitting within that fog and letting myself feel. Perhaps when I wake up, the fog will be lifted and stored away like a blanket, waiting for next time.
04:55 Jan 17 2026
Times Read: 108
I stopped reading tarot about three months ago. I put them away for the unforeseeable future. I know it’s unrealistic to feel betrayed by a reading, but I did. I still do, in a way. It made me feel foolish, so foolish that a massive disconnect formed between me and the deck I use for personal readings. That disconnect spread to all of my decks. I put them in a box and tucked them away.
A few times at the beginning of the year, I felt the urge to take them out. Within seconds, the feeling faded. I just couldn’t touch them. I still can’t. I even went into my room, reached down toward the box, then turned around and left them exactly as they were.
I don’t want to know anymore. I just don’t.
Speaking of don’t, there are so many things I want to say but don’t. Because what’s the point? What I say, or don’t say, means nothing in the long run. It’s just words typed into a void. So instead, I hold them inside and wait for them to fade into nothingness.
That’s not entirely true. There are some things I do share with a trusted friend. Having not only the support of their friendship, but also being seen and heard, has helped more than I can say. I say this with real appreciation. You’re like a supernova in the sky. 😉
Those moments helped me begin rewiring the part of my brain that believes I’m too much. And honestly, why wouldn’t I feel like I’m too much? I have to remind myself that feelings are not facts, and that I am not responsible for the capacity others have, or in some cases, don’t have.
If only things could be erased with a few magic words.
Maybe they can, and I just haven’t found the right ones yet. Or maybe because I feel things so deeply, they were never meant to be erased.
04:43 Jan 14 2026
Times Read: 166
“This world was not built for me, and I wasn’t built for this world. I wasn’t one of the fortunate ones born into a soft life. I was born to endure hardships, disappointments, and still keep fighting. Even through all of that, you can remain naïve, even at 45. When that naivety is lost, it feels like the last bit of innocence goes with it. It’s a profound kind of grief.”
No matter how many times I read these words I wrote, it still stings, because it’s a truth I’ve been forced to face on my journey. One of many.
Even with that small piece of innocence gone, I still hold onto hope. Hope that one day my life will soften and the edges will dull a little.
When that hope comes into being, I’ll know I played a major role in shaping it. I stopped giving my love so freely to everyone else and turned it inward. I began the journey of learning how to love myself. It is something I’m not sure I ever truly did. I liked myself, mostly, but love was a different story.
That naïve girl believed she needed validation from others, that somehow it would transform into self-love. It doesn’t. All it does is take a mental toll.
You can’t heal others until you heal yourself, and even then, healing others is never guaranteed. It requires looking in the mirror and facing the parts of yourself you hate, hide, or bury out of shame. It means setting aside ego, self-righteousness, and hubris, and laying your flaws out for you to see. Healing takes action. You can’t love others hoping they’ll give that love back and call it growth.
So I stopped doing that. I started learning how to love me.
I began by working on how I handle situations and how I react. I hold myself accountable when I’m wrong. I forgive myself and learn from my mistakes. We are our harshest critics, and replaying failures on a loop doesn’t help us grow. It keeps us stuck, endlessly punishing ourselves.
I’ve also been strengthening my body alongside my mind. I started physical therapy at the beginning of December. What began as a step toward progressing in a job program has become a lifestyle change. I started resistance training. I work out for an hour or more every day. It gives me clarity and a deep sense of peace.
I move on to the next step in the program Friday. It is a placement that will help do the legwork in finding a job that fits my needs. After that, I’ll face some medical things I’ve been avoiding out of denial. If things go well and I find stability, I plan to get my license back and look into driving again.
I don’t know what this new year holds, but I know I’m entering it with a different mindset and a more evolved version of myself. I still have scars and wounds, but every day they’re healing, just like me.
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