The Quiet Ways We Lose Ourselves
Another attempt to help someone she loves avoid pain.
But as she sets the phone down, something shifts.
A quiet realization she’s been avoiding finally settles in:
When Being Steady Becomes a Role
The one who knows what to say.
When was the last time someone asked her how she was doing,
But with space to answer honestly.
The Slow Disappearance of Her Own Life
Her calendar used to hold things that felt like hers.
A dinner with a friend that wasn’t about solving something.
A book she read slowly, just because she wanted to.
Somewhere along the way, those things disappeared.
Replaced by appointments she manages.
Conversations she prepares for.
Problems she tries to prevent.
Emotions she carries that aren’t hers.
Somewhere along the way, she didn’t just give up time.
The Way She Learned to Adapt
Maybe she didn’t set out to become this person.
Maybe she learned, slowly, that being the steady one kept things from falling apart.
Maybe staying alert felt safer than resting.
Maybe paying attention to everyone else felt easier than listening to herself.
She did what she had to do to survive.
There’s this strange, unsettling feeling.
She doesn’t quite know what she wants.
She doesn’t know how to make a decision that doesn’t revolve around someone else.
She doesn’t even know what feels like hers anymore.
When the Body Says Don’t Go There
her body reacts before her mind does.
A dull pressure builds behind her eyes, the beginning of a headache.
It’s almost as if her body is saying,
The Familiar Safety of Staying the Same
There’s a push and pull inside her.
And another part wants to keep everything exactly as it is.
Because at least the status quo is familiar.
At least she knows how to survive there.
She straightens her shoulders.
She moves on to the next thing that needs managing.
The Question Beneath the Tension
There’s a push and pull inside her.
Another part wants to keep everything steady.
And maybe, beneath all of that tension, there’s a quieter question waiting.
