Lately, I’ve been trying to slowly return to normal life again.
Or at least something close to normal.
I go through the same routines, wake up the same way, do the same responsibilities, and continue with the things that need to be done every day.
But somehow, things still feel different.
Not dramatically different.
Just quieter.
I don’t think I realized how much certain experiences stay with you even after everything is technically “over.”
People eventually stop asking if you’re okay. Life continues moving. The world doesn’t really pause.
And maybe that’s the strange part.
You’re expected to continue normally even when something inside you still feels unsettled.
Some days feel okay.
Some days feel heavy for reasons I can’t fully explain.
There are moments when I suddenly remember things I’ve been trying not to think about too much, and it catches me off guard.
Then there are also moments where I genuinely laugh again and feel guilty about it after, like I moved forward too quickly.
I know that probably sounds strange.
But grief is strange too.
I think one of the hardest parts is accepting that healing doesn’t happen all at once.
It happens quietly.
Slowly.
Sometimes so slowly you don’t even notice it immediately.
I’ve stopped trying to pressure myself into “feeling better” quickly.
Right now, I think I just need time.
Time to process things.
Time to adjust emotionally.
Time to feel like myself again without forcing it.
For now, I’m learning to let the days come as they are.
Some heavier than others.
Some softer than expected.
And maybe that’s enough for where I am right now.
One day at a time,
