“I am Still Becoming”

“I’m Still Becoming.”

A blog from a messy, healing, still-growing heart.

It’s been a year.

A whole year since I’ve written anything. Not because I didn’t want to but because I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength, the words, the space in my heart to let anything out. I was full too full. Of pain, of exhaustion, of silence.

You know how they say healing is not linear?

Yeah, they’re right. It’s messy. And it hurts. And sometimes it makes you feel worse before it makes you feel better.

I went through a heartbreak- 

not just a little heartbreak, but the kind that cracks your bones in places you didn’t know existed.

Three years.

Three whole years I poured my heart, my love, my time, my belief into someone, only to be left with a version of myself I didn’t recognize anymore.

It didn’t just break my heart- it broke me.

I lost my appetite for joy, but found an endless hunger for comfort. I stress-ate like food could fill the emotional holes inside me. And maybe for a while, it did. I gained weight. I lost confidence. I forgot what it felt like to look in the mirror and like what I saw.

I was exhausted- physically, mentally, emotionally.

And I couldn’t run anymore. I was stuck. In my job. In my mind. In my body. In my pain.

There were days I didn’t want to get up.

Nights I cried myself to sleep without even knowing why.

Mornings that felt like burdens instead of beginnings.

I was in a loop.

And no matter how much I tried, it felt like I was moving in circles. Same thoughts. Same pain. Same routine.

Until, one day- something shifted.

Not magically. Not all at once.

Just… slowly.

Healing didn’t come like a movie scene.

It came in small, almost invisible ways.

In a good cup of coffee.

In the sunlight through my window.

In the laughter of a friend.

In a song that felt like home.

In writing this blog- after a whole year of silence.

I won’t lie and say I’m okay now.

Because I’m not fully okay.

But I’m better.

Better than before.

And that counts.

I’m still sad sometimes.

Still confused. Still asking the universe, “What am I even doing with my life?”

Still wondering if I’ll ever truly make it.

But then I remind myself- maybe life isn’t something to figure out.

Maybe it’s something to live.

To experience. To feel. To fall apart in. To rebuild.

Life isn’t black or white.

It’s grey.

It’s blurry.

It’s chaos and calm dancing together.

It’s heartbreak and healing holding hands.

And you know what? That’s okay.

I am learning to trust the process.

To stay in the moment.

To stop waiting for a perfect version of me to arrive.

Because maybe I’m not arriving at all.

Maybe I’m becoming.

Still becoming.

And on the days I feel like giving up, maybe I will.

But then, the next day, I’ll rise again.

Not because I have to… but because I want to.

For me.

For the people who love me.

For the version of me I’ve always dreamed of becoming.

So here I am, writing again.

Breathing again.

Healing again.

And if you’re reading this- maybe you’re in your grey too. Maybe your heart is heavy. Maybe you feel stuck.

But let me tell you something, from one soul to another-

this isn’t the end of your story.

Take it slow.

One step. One moment. One breath at a time.

Because even in the darkness, you’re growing.

And maybe that’s what life is.

A little messy.

A little poetic.

A little confusing.

But yours to live.