I’m learning that waiting until I feel ready just keeps me stuck. I wasn’t “ready” to start healing, I wasn’t “ready” to choose myself, and honestly? I wasn’t even “ready” to build Peace in Progress.
But I did it anyway.
Sometimes the next step isn’t about confidence — it’s about courage that feels like trembling.If there’s something on your heart, don’t wait for perfect.Move with what you have.
You’ll grow into the rest.
Today feels heavy, but it’s the kind of weight that matters. For the first time in a long time, the thoughts I shoved into corners of my mind are coming out. The memories of mistakes, the people I hurt, the moments I wish I could undo, I’m facing them.
It’s uncomfortable. It’s raw. And yet, I feel a strange relief in naming it all. I’m learning that healing isn’t about forgetting or erasing the past. It’s about understanding, forgiving, and showing compassion to the parts of myself I once ran from.
I don’t have it all figured out, and that’s okay. Today, unboxing these hidden pieces feels like the beginning of peace.
I had a moment today where something tiny set off a big feeling — and old guilt came back. My first instinct was, “Why am I still like this?” But then I caught myself.
Healing isn’t about never getting triggered again. It’s about the new way you respond.
Maybe your voice shakes now, but before you didn’t have a voice at all. Maybe you feel the fear, but you don’t abandon yourself like you used to.
That counts. It all counts.
I’ve been practicing choosing myself in small ways lately, saying no, taking space, honoring what I feel.
It still feels “wrong” sometimes.
And that’s exactly how I know I’m healing. When you grow up in places where your needs were called “too much,” choosing yourself feels like breaking a rule.
But here’s the truth I wish someone told us earlier: choosing yourself isn’t betrayal. It’s coming home.
A lot of people talk about strength like it’s loud, bold, and fearless. Mine has never looked like that. My strength is the quiet kind, the type you barely notice unless you’ve lived through something.
It’s waking up and deciding, again, to try. It’s choosing gentleness when chaos feels familiar. It’s letting yourself soften in places you once had to stay hard. If your strength feels quiet too, that doesn’t make it any less real.
Some of the strongest people I know are the ones who keep choosing peace in moments where old patterns would’ve pulled them back.
For so long I believed I needed to outrun how I felt. Stay busy. Stay productive. Stay needed. But slowing down has been the only way I’ve been able to actually hear myself again.
Today, I just want to remind you: you don’t have to earn rest. You’re allowed to pause, breathe, and take a second to come back into your own body.
It’s not laziness. It’s recovery.