
I’m in survival mode right now.
The kind where you’re still showing up, but barely breathing. The kind where exhaustion doesn’t lift with sleep, because the weight you’re carrying never actually leaves your body.
I feel like I’m drowning. And there’s no life preserver in sight.
It feels like my entire life is imploding all at once—a slow collapse made up of too many things piling on top of each other. When everything feels urgent, it becomes impossible to know where to begin.
It’s too much.
I’ve had a headache for a week straight. A constant reminder of how tightly my body is holding everything in. Stress always finds a physical place to land when the mind is already overloaded. This is where mine decided to settle.
I’m trying, really trying, to keep my thoughts from wandering to places they don’t need to go. When you’re this depleted, staying present can feel like a full-time job. That’s why today, I took a mental health day.
Not as a luxury. Not as avoidance. But as an act of survival and self-preservation.
There’s still a lot waiting for me. None of it will magically disappear because I paused. But for today, I gave myself permission to stop pushing, to stop pretending I’m okay when I’m not, and to acknowledge that carrying this much is hard.
Sometimes survival mode doesn’t look brave or inspiring. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it looks like admitting you’re not fine. Sometimes it looks like choosing not to break, just for today.
And surviving still counts. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough, it is.
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