Entry One

I’m not trying to begin this the right way.
I’m just beginning.

This year has held more than I expected — more change, more questions, more quiet reckonings.
Some days I felt like I was growing in ways I could feel in my chest.
Other days, simply staying present felt like the work.

But when I slow down enough to notice, I can see that something steady has been happening beneath it all.
Roots forming.
A soft strengthening.
A learning to listen instead of push.

If I were telling the forest the truth, I’d say:
I’m still learning how to rest without guilt.
I’m still learning how to stop explaining myself.
I’m still learning how to trust that surviving was not a failure.

There were moments this year that felt like survival — and still, I’m here.
More myself than before.
More honest about what I need and what I can no longer carry.

So I’m laying this here instead of carrying it forward.
The weight of becoming someone I no longer am.
The pressure to make meaning before it arrives.

If you’re reading this, maybe you’re here too — standing at the edge of something unnamed.
If so, you’re welcome to sit with me.
No fixing. No future-planning.
Just being held for a moment longer than we usually allow.

That feels like enough for today.
And maybe, that’s the beginning.