It's ok, not to be ok....

Overwhelmed.
That is the word that keeps returning—
for yesterday, for the day before,
for now, right here, breathing inside this moment.

Overwhelmed.
Tired not from doing, but from being.
From carrying the weight of feeling,
from trying to rise above what sometimes asks only to be felt.
Even the steps toward relief can feel heavy,
as if the climb begins inside the ache itself.

On my right arm, a single word rests quietly: Breathe.
A small tattoo, a large grace.
A reminder that I do not need to solve everything—
only to meet this moment with one honest breath.

So I turned the noise off.
The TV went dark.
The phone rested face down.
I opened a book, black ink on white pages,
and found refuge in its simplicity.
Sometimes a world without images is easier to hold
than the one flashing endlessly before us.

The book is in Danish—
a language I return to so I do not forget myself.
I read to stretch my mind,
to keep something tender and rooted alive.
After only a few pages, something loosened.
Not answers—just presence.
Just the quiet permission to be.

And this is what stayed with me:

One small step forward is still forward.
One breath taken fully is still breath.
The moon remains the moon,
even as it wanes, even as it disappears,
even as it returns in its own time.

And you—
you are still you.
Here. Now. Enough.

You are worthy.
You are loved.
I still believe in you.

Even in a fractured world,
there is goodness that survives.
Even in uncertainty, you have already endured so much.
You have made it this far,
and you will make it through what stands before you.
This, too, will pass through you.

And for myself—
I am learning that it is okay to stay.
To remain in the not-knowing.
To rest inside a life that does not yet match the dream I once held.
I have choices. I always have.
And I have chosen this moment deliberately,
after weighing it again and again in my heart.

Sometimes we are meant to stand still—
right in the eye of the storm,
where chaos swirls and fear speaks loudly.
Not to fight it. Not to flee.
But to witness.
To accept what is.
To breathe within it.

Because acceptance is not surrender—
it is the first act of courage.