Something has shifted within me, subtle yet undeniable. It feels like the arrival of a winter storm—icy and bracing, yet carrying a sharp clarity that jolts the senses awake. After weeks of feeling weighed down by the chaos of the holidays, I can sense my spirit stirring again, emerging from its self-imposed hibernation.

Despite the bitter cold and the confinement of the day, I felt something I haven’t in a long time: energy. My body, though still limited, allowed me movement—a freedom I’ve deeply missed. I cleaned, sorted, and tackled the small tasks that had quietly accumulated, as if clearing not only my space but also the heaviness within me. The simple act of movement felt exhilarating, like reclaiming a part of myself I thought was lost.

Yet I approach this newfound energy with caution. January has always been a precarious time for me, a month marked by emotional instability and a lurking sense of vulnerability. Whenever I feel this sudden vitality, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a precursor to the inevitable descent into darker places. That fear lingers, persistent and quiet, as if waiting to remind me not to get too comfortable.

Still, I am trying to hold onto hope, fragile though it may be. I remind myself that energy does not have to be a warning; it can also be a gift, an opportunity to focus on self-care and wellbeing. Learning to trust these moments, to believe they are not always harbingers of collapse, feels like its own act of resilience.

For now, I am moving forward cautiously but with purpose, holding onto the belief that change does not have to lead to ruin. Sometimes, it is simply an invitation—a call to wake up, to move, and to reach toward the light. And for now, that is enough.