Lost Within Myself

Lately I've felt lost within me. Not lost in the dramatic, headline kind of way. Lost in the quiet way. The kind where you're still showing up, still checking every box, but you have no idea where you're actually going.

I have just enough energy to maintain. To keep the house running, the meetings covered, the kids fed and loved on. What I don't have is the energy to reach for anything new. The idea of chasing something unknown feels paralyzing right now, not because I'm scared of failing, but because I know I don't have anything left to give the unknown. New things ask for grit, patience, and the ability to sit with uncertainty. I don't have that surplus right now. I'm running on what's required, and nothing more.

Most days I flip a switch. Wife on. Mother on. Employee on. I move through the roles like they're separate rooms in a house I know by heart. Then the Zoom call ends. The kids go down. My husband and I say goodnight. And I flip the switch again, back to whatever is left of me underneath all of it.

Today that switch felt heavier than usual. The overwhelm crept in early and stayed. I was grasping for anything that could hand me back a sense of normal, even for a few minutes. And somehow, like it always does when I let it, I found my way back to music.

It's strange how often I forget what music does for me. I opened my app, pulled up my Liked Songs, and just let it play. Nothing curated, nothing intentional. Just the songs I've collected over the years without thinking too hard about why. And with every song, I could feel something in my chest start to loosen.

There's an old saying that music calms the savage beast. I'm no beast. But whatever this heaviness is that's been gnawing at me lately, it might as well be one. And somehow, a playlist did what nothing else could today.

I knew I was going to be okay in that moment when my hands went up without me deciding to lift them. That's always been my tell. When I turn into a performer in my own living room, mic-less and unbothered, that's my body telling me I've still got something in me. Not enough for the unknown yet. But enough to make it a few more days.

Maybe that's all healing actually looks like in some seasons. Not chasing the next big thing. Just finding your way back to the one small thing that reminds you you're still in here.