how to make an anagram out of grief from beauty in the mundane and other musings

compartmentalizing grief is all fun and games until your glass cup doesn’t just overfill - it downright explodes cause you kept ignoring the kettle screaming before you poured it and didn’t realize it was glass. cause you had your noise cancelling airpods in and couldn’t hear the whistle.

and that’s where i’m at. and it’s a mixture of things. it’s accepting things you’ve been avoiding, and the grief of what wasn’t. it’s accepting the things that happened, but because everything’s a daze and you’re constantly disassociating (in part to avoid the grief) five years ago feels like last week and you don’t even remember what you did last week.

i wish i could be more grounded and more present but living in my body and being present just feelings terrifying in 2026. there’s too much grief and i am having a hard time making a sculpture out of dried up clay. i’m tired.

but the exhaustion is in part a blessing. because ive worked for years to bring my body out of hyper-vigilance. i learned to run on fumes but i had to keep going due to fear of the consequences. and my body learned very young that that was a very real threat.

yanno that feeling when you pass a cop on the highway and you realize you’re going ten over and you’re just hoping they’re not a jerk and don’t pull you over and your body’s fight or flight gets activated? yeaaaaa so that’s what CPTSD feels like but your body’s norm becomes that feeling due to constantly feeling unsafe. and i lived like that for decades, and i still have to work every day for that to not be my norm. but after being in that space for decades it’s like no wonder my body’s exhausted. no wonder every day feels like a mountain. no wonder a day spent attempting to “relax” feels so exhausting.

trying to find balance in 2026 is one of the hardest things for me. libras i hear yooooou. 666 angel numbers that follow me i hear yooooou. i’m trying.

i’m tired.