Lines Between Living

I wanted to start by saying thank you. Many of you resonated with the words I shared yesterday, and I felt called to continue the conversation by sharing a bit more today.

Yesterday was about saying the thing out loud.

Naming it.

Letting it sit in the room without rushing to fix it.

Journal therapy isn’t about immediate relief.

It’s about staying present after the truth is spoken.

This is the part people don’t talk about.

After the confession, nothing magically changes.

The alarm still rings.

The job still exists.

The body still feels heavy.

But something does shift.

When I write the truth down, I stop leaking it everywhere else.

I don’t carry it as tension in my shoulders.

I don’t swallow it and call it strength.

I don’t let it turn into resentment.

The page holds it for me.

Journal therapy, for me, is not about positivity or manifesting.

It’s containment.

It’s giving my thoughts a place to land so they don’t run my nervous system.

Some days the entry is poetic.

Some days it’s blunt.

Some days it’s just one sentence that says,

“Today feels heavy, and I’m still showing up.”

That counts.

The work happens quietly, line by line.

Not to escape reality,

but to survive it with integrity

until my outer life catches up to my inner truth.

This is how I keep going.

Not by pretending I’m fine 

but by writing until I can breathe again.