And begin by allowing yourself to settle,
Not perfectly,
Not properly,
Just enough.
Let your body be however it wants to be.
Let gravity take over what your mind has been holding.
Let your thoughts,
Let your grief land.
You don't need to hold everything right now.
You don't need to be strong.
You don't even need to be ready.
You only need to be here.
Not deeply,
Not bravely,
Just honestly.
Let the breath be however it is.
Shallow if it is shallow.
Tight if it is tight.
And heavy if it is heavy.
Nothing needs fixing in this moment.
Only witnessing.
There is a grief here.
Not loud for others to see.
It doesn't affect anybody else.
Not dramatic,
But deep.
A grief for what was hoped for.
A grief for what almost became.
A grief for a version of life that felt so close.
And now feels so far.
Let that grief be real.
Let it be valid.
You don't need to deny it.
You don't need to argue with it.
You don't even need to reframe it into something positive.
Just let it exist.
Because grief is not a problem.
It is proof of how much was loved.
How much was believed in.
And how much heart was poured into something.
Let yourself feel sorrow without shame.
Let disappointment sit beside you.
Without being pushed away.
It's okay to say this hurts.
More than I expected.
More than I wanted.
More than I feel I should allow.
It's okay.
And even if everything feels uncertain.
Even if there are no answers yet.
Even if the future feels blurry.
This one truth remains.
You have not failed.
Things are not ending.
Perhaps things are just changing form.
And change,
Even when gentle,
Can feel like breaking.
But breaking and becoming often feel the same at first.
You don't have to know what comes next.
You don't have to rush into clarity.
You are allowed to pause in the in-between.
You are allowed to rest before rebuilding.
And you are allowed to soften.
Without giving up.
So breathe again.
Slowly this time.
Not to stay calm.
But to stay with yourself.
Whisper.
I don't need to solve everything today.
I only need to stay here with myself.
And feel the truth of that.
You are not lost.
You are evolving.
You are not disappearing.
You are transitioning.
And even in this ache.
Even in this uncertainty.
Something within you is still holding on.
Slowly.
Softly.
Faithfully.
Not to a plan.
But to life itself.
Let that be enough for now.
Rest here as long as you need.
Namaste.