a win is a win

this letter is sponsored by a mood swing and a nap (don't be jealous, friends!)

“My sadness doesn’t mean I’m weak. It means I feel deeply—and I create from that place.”

-Dope Saint Jude

photo courtesy of Pinterest

a win is a win

I didn’t save the world today.
Didn’t clean my whole house either.
But I did drink water before coffee. And that’s something.

And I didn’t shame myself for not being productive enough or wearing the same outfit again. That’s something, too.

Old me would’ve acted like missing a task meant I was about to get evicted from adulthood. Like if I didn’t check every box, I’d get a notice on my spirit: “You are no longer qualified to be grown.”
And even still, I catch myself wondering how I got promoted here...

…probably birthing kids…

But we won’t dwell on that thought.
Not today.

Today, I let one small win stand on its own. No disclaimers. No “yeah, but…”

Just... yeah.

I showered today.
I fixed myself a meal.
I made my bed.
I stood on the porch and touched grass.

I did that. I chose better. Even if better was as small as unscrewing a cap, taking a sip of a tasteless substance that chased vitamins and happy pills.

…because there’s duality in tiredness…

It’s hard to explain what it feels like to be functional and still feel like you’re falling behind.
Everything is slower… off tempo.
You move, but the world moves faster.
People talk faster.
The day fills up before you get your footing.
You’re always arriving late to yourself.

You spend most of your time comparing.
Not to strangers online, but to the version of you that used to be quicker.
More certain. Less… heavy.

And you wonder, quietly, bitterly, what it would feel like to not be so aware of every step.
To not have to narrate your own effort just to prove it existed.
To do something simple, like clean your room or send an email, without it feeling like a whole-ass event.

Sometimes I want it to move faster.
I want me to move faster.
I want to catch up to the person people think I am.
To the version of me that doesn’t overthink how long it’s been since I returned that call, sorted through mail, or refilled the damn prescription.

But I’m not there yet.
So I count what I can.

And maybe that’s what today is
just a quiet admission: this is what progress looks like right now.

And it’s not cute.
It’s just real.

quick notes:

Living with mental health struggles ain’t no walk in the park, but I also know that loving someone who struggles isn’t easy either. I’m not here to argue about which is harder. Instead, I just want to give flowers to everyone who takes the time to read my work - whether it’s because you relate, you learn something, or you just appreciate my dry-ass sense of humor. I take all of it. I appreciate all of it.

It’s Mental Health Month.
Check on your people.

And while I usually say “check on your strong friends,” in this climate?
Check on everyone who crosses your mind.

Eight minutes is all it takes to let someone know they’re loved, valued, and not alone.
Sometimes that’s enough to spark the little bit of joy they need to keep going.

things you may like (ICYMI):