Resilience.

Another evening alone on the front porch step, breathing in the cool, crisp air. The trains hum in the distance, steady and constant, and the crickets sing their song, reminding me that life keeps moving, even when it feels like we’re standing still. Today was another dive into the family mess, another round of navigating all the knots and tangles—but something feels lighter tonight. It’s like I’ve finally caught a glimpse of clarity through all the noise, and it’s not as heavy as it once seemed.

Resilience. That’s the word that sticks with me tonight. We’re capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for. I’ve always known that, but tonight, it feels real. It feels close. People get stuck in their fears—God, I’ve been there, too. But there’s strength in us, even when we don’t see it. It’s there, waiting for us to dig deep and pull it out. I’ve flirted with the edge so many times, convinced that giving up was easier, but now I see that all those moments were lessons in survival, in finding the strength I didn’t even know I had.

I used to believe that if I could fix everything, if I could protect everyone else from their pain, I’d somehow prove that I wasn’t the problem. I thought I had to be the one with the answers, the one who swooped in to make things right. I convinced myself I was helping, that I was the one who understood. But maybe all along, it wasn’t about saving anyone else. Maybe it was about finding peace within myself, letting go of the need to control everything, and trusting that things have a way of working themselves out.

I can feel the shift tonight. It’s like a soft release, a gentle reminder that I don’t have to carry the weight of everyone else’s world. I’ve been fighting myself for so long, and now, I see that the real strength comes in letting go. In trusting that we are all stronger than we know, and that life, in all its mess and beauty, has a way of unfolding exactly as it should.