It Begins

Against My Will, But Also Because of It

Day 1 — November 24, 2025

I woke up this morning already exhausted — not the cute, “I just need a latte and a pep talk” exhausted, but the soul-level tired where your brain starts its monologue before you even open your eyes. Hyperactive mind, exhausted spirit, body just trying to keep up.

Honestly? My default setting.

Today had weight to it. The kind of weight your body recognizes before your mind does.
My stomach knew. My chest knew. Even my hair knew. She absolutely refused to cooperate.

Getting ready took forever. I kept adjusting my makeup, fixing my hair, changing my clothes like I was prepping for a Vogue cover instead of…well, the thing I was actually doing. Some part of me wanted to look steady and believable. And the other parts simply wanted safety.

But the truth is, I could’ve walked in wearing pajama pants and delusion, and they still would’ve believed me. Because the moment I chose to show up for myself, the story shifted.

But knowing that didn’t magically make me brave enough to walk in bare. Breathing felt like a sport. Existing felt like resistance. Running away felt like an excellent though deeply unhelpful idea.

One of my best friends came with me, which made me feel both held and terrified. I didn’t want her hearing everything. I didn’t want her seeing parts of me I still haven’t forgiven myself for carrying. Even though I know the shame was never mine. I kept watching her face, checking for signs of hurt, guilt, sadness. As if protecting her from my pain would save me from it too.

But she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of my story. She wasn’t worried I was “too much.” She just cared that I wasn’t alone in it.

Walking into that building felt surreal…

My legs were doing their job, but everything inside me felt like warm Jell-O, trembling, unsure, and sticky in an emotional way. The lobby was too bright, too normal. Like the world should’ve paused out of respect for the gravity of what I was doing.

I thought I’d fall apart. Or freeze. Or become fluent in panicked silence.

But no. I sat there, somehow, and told the truth anyway.

I chose myself in real time.

My voice wavered, sure. My heart tried to escape my chest, true. But the words came out.

Clear. Steady. Mine.

And when it was done. When I walked back outside, two feelings hit me at once, like emotional whiplash from opposite directions:

Completely broken.
And unbelievably proud.

The kind of pride that doesn’t feel like a celebration. Its more like a quiet, trembling, “I survived myself today” sort of pride. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I can yet to explain why. And somehow it was one of the most beautiful. Not because the moment was beautiful. God no. But because I was.

Because today, for the first time in a year, I moved toward my life instead of away from it.

And that, whatever else happens, whatever storms keep circling, whatever comes next, is a beginning I earned with my own two hands.

So here I am.
Standing at the edge of something new.
A little shaky.
A little cracked.
A little luminous in ways I’m only just starting to understand.

Chaos in one hand.
Grace in the other.
And me — finally moving toward myself.