Lines Between Living

Earlier this week, we moved slowly on purpose.

Monday, the truth was spoken out loud.

No polishing. No preparing it to be received.

Tuesday, the page became a place of containment.

Somewhere the truth could rest without running the nervous system.

Wednesday, we stayed.

With the discomfort. With the quiet. With what didn’t immediately resolve.

And now it’s Thursday.

The 15th.

Halfway through the month.

This is the part that rarely gets named.

The middle.

Where nothing is new anymore,

but nothing is finished either.

This is where I’m learning what included really means.

Not included once I feel better.

Not included after I figure it out.

Included while I’m still carrying it.

Journal therapy, for me, isn’t about clearing myself out.

It’s about letting the truth exist in my daily life

without treating it like a flaw.

Included means the heaviness doesn’t disqualify me.

The quiet doesn’t mean I’ve stalled.

Showing up without momentum still counts.

Mid-month isn’t a checkpoint for performance.

It’s a reminder that I’m allowed to stay present

without rushing toward a conclusion.

Some days, the writing is full.

Some days, it’s one sentence:

“I didn’t abandon myself today.”

That sentence belongs.

Because healing doesn’t ask for erasure.

It asks for presence.

And today, halfway through January,

I’m practicing staying with myself

instead of skipping ahead to who I think I’m supposed to be next.