WHEN PRETENDING ISN’T ENOUGH

For a long time, pretending I was okay worked. It was easier to smile, fill my days, and keep moving than to stop and face what was really happening. The blur had an allure—it softened the edges just enough to get by.

But I’m not in that place anymore. Something shifted this past year. If it’s a problem, I don’t want to blur it out. I want to confront it, sit with it, and see where I stand afterward.

When I think about my year, I don’t start in January. I started last August, with Mike’s accident. That was the line in the sand. Everything before, everything after. It’s strange—it’s only been a year, but it feels like it stretched a lifetime. In that time, I got married. I turned another year older. I saw a friendship rise beautifully and collapse in a blowout. I watched misunderstandings carve distance. I walked beside people on growth journeys that didn’t always match my own.

And right now? Honestly, it feels sticky. Like when you take a bite of pizza that’s way too hot and burn the roof of your mouth—unfixable in the moment, lingering longer than you’d like. That’s where I’m at. Not catastrophic. Not forever. Just uncomfortable in a way that makes me hyper-aware I’m alive.

Here’s the thing: I don’t need to know the reasons for all of it. I trust that life has them, and I trust one day I’ll look back and see the bigger picture. But today, I’m not forcing the answers. I’m letting the questions sit.

I don’t want to blur anymore. I don’t want to pretend I’m okay when I’m not. I want to feel the sticky parts, walk through them, and trust that on the other side, everything really will be more than okay.