Some days, I genuinely don’t know how I got out of bed.
It’s not laziness. It’s not a lack of gratitude.
It’s the heaviness that sits in your bones when your mind is in overdrive and your heart feels way too full.
I’ve always been someone who feels deeply. The kind of person who reads between the lines even when no one asked me to. Who notices the shift in someone’s tone, the way their eyes flicker when they say “I’m fine.” Who can feel the energy in a room shift before anyone else does. And while that sensitivity can be a gift, it can also be so exhausting.
Some days I love my own company. I romanticize my solo walks, matcha mornings, creative work sessions, and quiet evenings. But other days? The silence feels deafening. I look around and realize I don’t have people to share life with the way I want to. And the independence I’m usually so proud of suddenly feels like a wall I didn’t mean to build.
It’s a strange place to be, craving connection but feeling misunderstood. Wanting to open up but feeling like no one would really get it.
So you keep it all in. You carry it quietly.
You smile, you work, you post.
And underneath it all, you’re screaming into the void, just hoping someone might feel it too.
I don’t have a magic answer for this.
But I do know that feeling a lot doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re awake. Alive.
It means you’re still in tune with the parts of yourself that this world hasn’t numbed.
You don’t have to “fix” yourself for feeling too much. You don’t have to shrink or harden or pretend things don’t get to you. What you need is grace. Space to feel what you’re feeling without trying to justify it or wrap it in a bow.
And if you’re in a season right now where everything feels a little heavy, where your bed feels safer than the world, and your thoughts feel louder than your voice, just know this:
You’re not alone. You’re not dramatic. You’re not broken.
You’re just feeling your way through it.
And that’s more than enough for today.
the ward method 
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