03/30/2026
I’m in that strange, liminal rebirth space. The kind where I’m simultaneously dissolving and assembling. Everywhere and nowhere. Meeting who I’m becoming in real time, sometimes gracefully, sometimes like the universe hit shuffle and said good luck.
There’s a tenderness to it. And if I’m honest, a quiet craving to just be held often, consistently, without question. Not to be fixed, not to be figured out, just met. But that’s not the reality I’m in right now. My whole life is suspended mid air in the most beautiful way and also a little terrifying, because I don’t know what’s coming next.
What I do know, bone deep and soul certified, is this. No one gots me the way I got me. And somehow, the more I meet myself fully, the less I can tolerate being half met by anyone else. Funny how becoming whole makes anything partial feel loud.
And, Pilates has become my discipline, my loving ritual, a valuable part of remeeting myself. A place where I return to my body and my body actually answers. And this week without it is going to humble me.
This in between has also clarified something sharp and undeniable. A lot of people love me, but not in the way that reaches for me, not in the way that lingers, not in the way that makes space for me to exist in their day to day. And sometimes I catch myself wondering, softly and a little stunned, how did the version of me I used to be ever make peace with being loved like that? How did I call something love when it barely showed up? It almost feels nostalgic and foreign at the same time…like remembering a life I no longer fit inside.
Life moves fast. Blink and you miss it fast. And I want my time, my precious and irreplaceable time, spent with people where presence is instinctive. Where silence is full, not empty. Where being together feels like exhale, not effort. Where love does not just exist, it arrives, it stays, it moves toward me as much as I move toward it.
