#HealingInProgress

[alarwynnwhispers]

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11: ᴛᴇʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ 🧡

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ꜰᴀᴛɪɢᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ

ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀᴛᴇʀɴɪᴛʏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ

ᴄᴏ-ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀʏ-ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴄʏ

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇx ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴜɴᴘᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ (ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ, ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ, ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ)

ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏɴᴄɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴘᴀᴄɪɴɢ

It was late afternoon when they reached her apartment, Monaco light still clinging to the sky, soft and amber like honey spread over stone.

Lando didn’t follow her in right away. He paused at the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, unsure if he was welcome past it.

(Y/n) noticed. “Come in,” she said simply, unlocking the door.

Inside, it smelled faintly of citrus and fabric softener. A candle flickered on the windowsill, half-burned. The space was modest, lived in, not designed for show. A book lay spine-up on the coffee table, and a glass of ginger water sat beside it, unfinished.

Lando stood awkwardly near the coat rack as she slipped off her shoes. He rubbed the back of his neck, then finally said, “This place is… calm.”

“It’s small.”

“I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.”

She gave him a sidelong look, but her shoulders relaxed just a touch. “You want anything? Water? Tea?”

“Just… to talk.”

They ended up sitting across from each other on the couch, an ocean of space between them. Neither leaned back. The ultrasound photo lay between them, still creased at the corners.

“I’m not going to chase you around Monaco,” she said first. “I don’t want money. I don’t want tabloids. I just want… peace.”

“I get that.”

She looked at him, eyes sharper than usual. “Do you?”

Lando swallowed. “No. But I’m trying.”

A quiet moment stretched between them.

Then, he reached forward, placing both palms on his knees. “What do you want from me? Not what you don’t want. Tell me what you do want.”

(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. “I… I want a stable pregnancy. I want to keep working as long as I can. I want to not have to lie to my coworkers when I get dizzy or tired.”

He nodded.

“I want to not be constantly anxious about you showing up and acting like I tricked you.”

Lando winced. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.”

“I want—” she hesitated “—you to mean it. When you say you want to be here. Not because you’re a public figure. Not because you feel bad. Just because you mean it.”

Lando was silent for a long time.

“I do,” he said finally. “I mean it.”

Another beat.

“I can help with the appointments,” he added. “We can keep everything off the radar. I’ve got people who know how to keep things quiet. You don’t have to deal with the circus.”

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

She softened slightly. “I know. But I’ve been carrying this alone for weeks. I don’t want secrets. Just… privacy.”

He nodded again. “Privacy. Not secrecy. Got it.”

She leaned back, finally exhaling. “We can set boundaries. Conditions.”

“Like a truce?”

“More like a contract.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re tougher than I remember.”

“I’ve had to be.”

He looked down at the ultrasound again. “That little dot… that’s ours.”

She didn’t correct him.

“I’ll start with the basics,” he said, voice quieter now. “Transport when you need it. Appointments. Groceries if you’re too tired. I don’t want to overstep. But I want to show up.”

(Y/n) studied him.

Then she nodded. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

Lando looked up at her. “Deal.”

Outside, the sun had almost set. The sky was streaked with soft pinks and lavenders.

Inside, things were still complicated. Still fragile.

But for the first time, they weren’t entirely broken.

To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12: ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴏᴜꜰʟᴀɢᴇ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: Second post of the day HAHAHAHA I couldn’t help myself, the plot bunnies are running wild and I’m just holding on for dear life 🐇✨

Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog, and if you’re loving the stories so far, follow for more, the drama isn’t done with us yet 😌

With love, me 🧡

[thejourneyofastrangerlife]

The Silence Between Us

Tonight just turned heavier by the hour.

Maybe I just miss him—not that he would know, or maybe he doesn’t even care. Ever since he left, I’ve been having the softest dreams, just the two of us in a little house with a small garden, glowing and happy.

I woke up smiling, only to face the silence and greyness of the room.

Today, I felt extremely sad. We fought yesterday, and he didn’t even care that I left. I asked him, “Do you want to be with me or do you want to divorce me?” It was harsh, but I needed to know the truth. Instead of an answer, he turned it on me and said, “You want a divorce?”—as if all of this was my doing.

Then, like always, he shut down the conversation: “You lost the argument. Say whatever you want, I’m not replying.” I told him the truth he made me say, “Yes, I want a divorce,” and then I blocked him.

Now, I feel like something in me has gone missing—like part of my soul is gone—but strangely, my body doesn’t even respond anymore. Maybe I’m just numb.

I have nine days left before I return home. Nine long, dragging days of pretending, of holding myself up in silence.

I wish I could fast forward through it all, but maybe this is how healing begins: not loud, not brave, just quiet pain and slow breaths.

And you know what hurts most? That all of this started the moment his mother stepped in between us and he obeyed her 100% every single time.

Is this what marriage is supposed to look like? A man fully grown, still chained to his mother’s every word, with no space for the woman he married? I’ve never seen anything like this before.

All my friends, they live peacefully — their parents let them go, let them grow. But in my case, his mother holds on so tightly that there’s no room left for me.

It hurts so bad I don’t even know what marriage means anymore.

"Sometimes the loudest heartbreak is the one we carry quietly — not in words, but in the weight we no longer try to explain."

[iamheretoheal]

I am now free from destructive anxiety✨

Good Afternoon 💖

[tapmora]

“Terrified of Change, Desperate for It: The Quiet War Within”

The Slow Burn of Staying

It always feels like standing with bare feet in a house that is gradually burning to the ground. The fire has yet to reach you, but you can see the smoke filling the air, piercing your eyes, filling your lungs. You cough, you squint, and you hold a grip on a stranger's set of keys, knowing somewhere outside these walls is fresh air, an unbraiding kind of life, and a you who is intact. But your feet, they feel buried in the floorboards, too heavy to move, too scared to run.

The Waiting Game That Never Ends

You tell yourself you’re waiting. Waiting for a sign, a perfect moment, a braver version of yourself who will grab those keys and open the door. It’s a comforting lie because the truth is far heavier: you’re afraid. Scared not just of where you will be, but of what leaving will mean to you. What if nothing ever gets better? What if everything gets worse? What if this house, as bad and smothering as it is, is the best you'll ever have?

Split Between Longing and Loss

They say people call it being stuck, but it isn't. You're not stuck. You're split. Part of you longs for change, its heart burning with the need for something new, something lighter, but the other holds on to everything familiar. It weeps for all the little things that would have to be left behind. Because even in the misery, there were good things. There was laughter in this kitchen, flowers that bloomed in broken soil, routines that gave a sense of security. And you loved this life once, didn't you?

The Drain of Pretending

The most difficult aspect is not the fear of the unknown. It's the draining act of pretending. You convince yourself and all those around you that you're "almost there." That you'll take the leap, that you're just waiting for the moment to arrive. Your muscles hurt from sustaining this version of you, your voice gets raspier from reassuring people that soon, you'll choose yourself. Between knowing better and doing better is there a quiet sort of grief no one prepares you for. It doesn't include a funeral or closure, but it is a death nonetheless.

Change Is a Kind of Death

That's the thing that no one tells you about change. It's not merely stepping into something new, it's burying something old. It's departing from a part of yourself that it took you years to become. It's releasing habits, spaces, folks, and even aspirations that no longer belong. Change requires you to risk everything for a shot at something more, with no promise of success. It's seldom a tidy choice between good and evil. Most times, it's a messy, painful decision between lingering in hurt and taking the chance on possibility.

The Guilt No One Talks About

Perhaps the toughest thing isn't even the anxiety of what comes next, but the shame of wanting it. Shame of acknowledging you're willing to leave behind a place where you once pleaded to be. Of realizing you grew up from something you assumed would be a lifetime. And yet, somewhere in the world, there's a version of you who breathes more freely, laughs more fully, and doesn't need to tally apologies like pennies. You glimpse them from time to time, in dreams, in reflective mirrors, in still moments when you remember not to shield your heart. They seem so near, almost within reach.

A Choice between Sorrow and Promise

Ultimately, change is a matter of pain or possibility. Between the painful comfort of what you know and the aching unfamiliarity of what could be. And perhaps that's what makes it so frightening. But it's also what makes it worth fighting.

[astridsdreamspace]

The Work You Don’t See

Not all progress is visible. Not every step forward is loud, dramatic, or marked by a finished product. Sometimes, the most important work we do happens behind the scenes—where no one claps, no one comments, and no one even knows it’s happening but us.

This is the work you don’t see:

Untangling a thought you’ve been wrestling with for days

Sitting with grief without trying to rush through it

Choosing rest over productivity

Saying no when everything in your nervous system wants to say yes

Being honest with yourself, even when it’s uncomfortable

None of that is easy. But it counts.

We live in a culture that rewards output, visibility, and the appearance of having it all together. But the invisible work—the emotional labor, the boundary-setting, the inner shifts—that’s where resilience grows. That’s where real change starts.

So if this week has felt quiet, hard, slow, or foggy… You might be doing more work than you realize. And that work matters.

Keep going. Even if no one sees it yet. Especially then.

[kayemndz]

Today, Here — A Little Reminder to Breathe.

“All these fears are around me They're coming to get me But emotions, they follow Words of tomorrow If you know this, you'll get it You probably felt it today Today, here.” —Ben&Ben, WAR

You ever have one of those days where everything feels a little too much? That's me right now.

WAR. That’s the only word that makes sense for what’s going on in my head. Not the loud, chaotic kind, just the quiet kind where your thoughts are heavy and everything feels like a mess you didn’t see coming.

Things changed so fast.

I didn’t even have time to understand what was happening. One minute it felt fine, the next it didn’t. It hit me hard, and now I’m just sitting with it, trying to figure out how I really feel.

There’s pain. There’s fear. There’s frustration that keeps building up.

I try to keep it together, but some days it feels like it’s all going to spill out. And maybe that’s okay.

I keep reminding myself that tomorrow is a fresh start. A new chance to feel a little better. To think a little clearer. It might not solve everything, but sometimes, just waking up and getting through the day is enough.

So today, here, I’m still trying. Still breathing. Still figuring things out.

If you’re going through something too, you’re not alone. Life gets heavy, but we keep showing up anyway. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Still feeling, still healing,

Kaye

[lonehymn]

The Devils She Didn't Mean to Wake

Should I blame her for waking up the devils within me? The ones I buried long ago under silence, under smiles. She touched places I thought were sealed, stirred memories I fought to forget. But maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe those devils were never truly gone... just sleeping, waiting. Her presence didn’t create them... it revealed them. In truth, she held up a mirror. And in that reflection, I saw the cracks, the wounds, the unfinished healing. It hurts, yes. But maybe this pain is the start of something necessary. Maybe awakening the devils is the only way to finally face them. And maybe, just maybe, they lose power once they’re seen.

[persimmonsrain]

To let him go like I let him in

I loved him hardcore. With everything. With the kind of love that rearranged my routines, my priorities, my sense of time. I thought about him in the middle of conversations, in between lesson plans, in the silence of a shower. He was in the fabric of my day. I didn’t ration it. I didn’t hold back. I loved like my hands weren’t shaking. I gave like I didn’t know heartbreak. I softened parts of myself that took years to harden. I let him in.

And now, I want to let him go the same way I let him in fully. Not gently. Not quietly. I want to let go like tearing roots from soil. I want to scream into a pillow and then sip tea right after. I want to cry on the floor if I have to. I want to delete the pictures, write the poems, feel the ache until it leaves my body. Because if I loved without holding back, then I deserve to grieve without pretending.

Letting go isn’t graceful right now. It’s ugly. It’s unfiltered. It comes in waves. One moment I feel like I’m free, the next I’m checking my phone like a prayer. But I’m learning to accept that love and loss aren’t opposites. That I can still miss someone and choose to move on. That I can still cry and still mean it when I say, “I deserve more.”

This time, I won’t pretend to be fine too soon. I won’t romanticize the pain, but I won’t deny it either. I’ll feel it all. Fully. Because that’s the only way I know how to love.

I didn’t lose him. I released him. And in doing so, I found the parts of me I used to give away too easily.

[imawolempressions]

[cloudycheer]

Rest, Rainclouds, and a Splash of Colour

This morning started just like any other—bowl of cereal, sleepy eyes, and plans to head off to work. But after breakfast, I laid down for a quick rest since I couldn’t shower post-procedure. That "quick rest" turned into a deeper nap than expected… and when I woke 45 minutes later, my body made the decision for me.

I called in sick.

Not because I wanted a day off, but because I needed one. My body was still aching, and my heart needed a little extra cloud-cover to heal. Mum called, and without hesitation, said she thought I’d stay home anyway. It felt good to feel understood.

The rest gave me more than just a break—it gave me time. Time to breathe. Time to heal. Time to finish redesigning my fifth colouring book (yay!). And when I’m ready, I’ll start putting those finishing touches on the website rebrand and relaunch.

Even cloudy days can hold a little colour. —Cloudy Cheer 🌧🖍

[iceadvento]

Thriving Through Change: Our Journey with Ozempic, Diabetes, and Daily Life

Almost six weeks ago, we made a decision—to start Ozempic as part of managing diabetes alongside a full rework of our daily habits. It wasn’t just a prescription; it was the start of an entire lifestyle shift. And honestly? It’s been messy, beautiful, and still evolving.

How We Started

We didn’t rush. We prepped—hard. Before the first injection, we restructured daily routines, anticipated side effects, and mapped out “safety nets” like blood sugar checks, food logs, and hydration alerts.

We were clear: this wasn’t going to be a passive journey. We would build our way through it—meal by meal, adjustment by adjustment.

What We’ve Worked On

• Diet Overhaul: We moved away from processed foods, heavy carbs, and bloating triggers.

No soda. No junk. Even “healthy” foods like yogurt became risks because of bloating, so we adapted—homemade everything, when possible.

• Macronutrient Control:

We made major adjustments to how we approach calories and macros, shifting the focus toward high-protein, high-fiber eating every single day.

It’s not about restriction—it’s about building every meal to support stability, energy, and recovery.

• Supplementation Adjustments:

We integrated key supplements like probiotics, vitamins, and hydration support to maintain balance and offset any potential deficiencies.

When signs of imbalance showed up—fatigue, queasiness, dizziness—we adapted fast and made it part of our routine.

• Food Logging:

Every meal, every snack—documented. Visible macros helped us spot patterns early.

If something caused bloating or dizziness? Logged and learned.

• Timing Awareness:

Timing became critical—especially when coordinating meals, medications, and supplements to avoid dips, spikes, and crashes.

It’s a rhythm now, not an accident.

• Water and Hydration:

We shifted drinking habits too—not chugging anymore. Sips across the day. Especially crucial with Ozempic’s appetite effects and blood sugar shifts.

What Works So Far

• Small, frequent meals if needed, never forcing heavy meals.

• Prioritizing protein and fiber first, even when appetite is low.

• Gentle foods on Ozempic days (soft tofu, collagen broth, mashed pumpkin) to avoid GI upset.

• Avoiding “healthy” traps like whole wheat bread when they backfire on digestion.

• Trusting body cues over strict schedules—some days lighter, some days heavier based on need.

What We’re Still Working On

• Preventing sugar crashes better (especially during long work sessions or skipped meals).

• Managing appetite slumps without risking nutritional deficits.

• Fine-tuning supplement timing to avoid overlaps with meds.

• Emotional eating during stress or exhaustion—recognizing when the body wants comfort, and providing it safely.

Other Changes

• We’re learning to be gentler with ourselves.

• Progress isn’t linear—and that’s okay.

• Self-monitoring is important, but so is grace when something doesn’t go perfectly.

• We’re seeing how Ozempic isn’t the solution—we are. It’s just one tool among many we’re learning to wield.

Closing Thoughts

Six weeks in, we’re stronger, smarter, and closer to ourselves than when we began.

We’re not just “coping”—we’re crafting a new way to live.

And the best part?

We’re just getting started.

[rodrigodesouzasilva]

Someone needed this today. maybe it was you.

you don’t have to explain the weight. if it’s real — it shows. even in silence. especially in silence.

you’re not too much. you’re just not meant for places that ask you to shrink.

[ungrowing-up]

Rewriting the Rules of Worth: The Heaviest I’ve Been, The Lightest I’ve Felt

On Sunday, we visited my mom for Easter. After dinner, the whole family was lounging around the house, casually chatting, full of food and warmth.

At some point, my 14-year-old son wandered into one of the bedrooms and found a scale. From across the hall, we heard him shout—rejoicing—that he weighed over 150 lbs! He was genuinely thrilled, proud even.

(And in that moment, all I could think was... what I would give to weigh that. Scratch that—what I would give to feel excited about gaining weight instead of defeated by it.)

Then it was my husband’s turn. Then my mom’s. One by one, they all stepped on that little machine like it was nothing.

Me? I quietly slipped away and hid in the front room, praying no one would notice.

There was no way in hell I was stepping on that scale. Not in front of everyone. And definitely not in front of my mom.

I’ve always been a little afraid of scales.

Not because they hurt. But because they hold power—a kind of power I’ve given them for far too long. I’m scared of the number, scared it won’t match the version of me I’m trying so hard to love. Scared it’ll confirm my worst thoughts instead of challenge them.

I don’t really talk about my weight. Not because I don’t care, but because no matter where it’s landed, it’s never felt “right.” Not in the eyes of society, not in the eyes of family. Not even in my own.

But something’s shifting.

Lately, I’ve started dressing the body I have—not the one I’m chasing. I’ve started looking in the mirror and seeing someone beautiful. Someone real. Someone with hips and laughter and stories etched into her skin.

And today, I stepped on a scale.

197 lbs. The highest number I’ve ever seen attached to my body.

It was hard to see, I won’t lie. But weirdly? It didn’t break me. I still felt good. I still saw that beautiful, smiling woman in the mirror.

Maybe the scale doesn’t get to have the final say anymore. Maybe it’s just a tool—one of many—and not the one that defines my worth, my health, or my beauty.

The scale can show a number. But it can’t measure how far I’ve come. It can’t measure joy, healing, or the way I’m learning to love the person I see in the mirror.

[sau-spicivicto]

Embracing the Off Days.

There are days when you wake up and the energy just isn't there. Maybe it's the heaviness that lingers in your chest, or a quiet sense of exhaustion that pulls you down. It’s something I believe is common for so many of us, something that’s just a part of life. And I’ll be honest—I consider myself a relatively mature person, yet there are still times when I feel low, less energetic, or even lonely. Even in the comfort of my own space, with people around me, that feeling can still sneak in. But here's the thing: I truly believe this feeling is completely normal.

It’s okay to not feel okay all the time. We should normalize it. We’re so used to expecting ourselves to be upbeat, productive, and positive every single day, but life doesn’t always work that way. Some days, you just need to breathe and accept that it's fine to not have it all together. It’s not a big deal, my friends. It really isn’t. Because at the end of the day, you will be okay. You’ll find your balance again.

You might be thinking, “What is she talking about?” But this is me. This is how I deal with it. And I know it might sound cliché, but it’s true. Some days are just harder than others, and that's a part of being human.

Sometimes, it’s just the weight we carry around in our minds. It’s the constant overthinking of everything—every little thing that happens throughout the day. The worries pile up, and suddenly, they’ve taken over your thoughts.

I find myself worrying about my health, my future, my parents, my partner… It all starts to stack up and become overwhelming. It’s like a storm that appears out of nowhere, swirling around your mind and messing with your peace. But here’s the thing—I think we all need to give ourselves more space to just be. We need to give time to everything: to our emotions, to our thoughts, and, most importantly, to ourselves.

We need to learn to step back and have “me time.” Time to truly listen to how we’re feeling. Time to understand why we’re upset, why we’re anxious, or why we’re drained. Don’t let those feelings take over. Don’t let them overwhelm you. You are the one who’s in control of your emotions. And trust me, you have the maturity and strength to sort through them.

It was just one of those random days, with random thoughts that passed through my mind. But I wanted to share this, because I believe we all have moments like these. And I’d love to know, do you feel the same way sometimes? How do you cope with those days when things just don’t feel right?

The bottom line is: it’s okay to have those days. It’s okay to be low. Just remember to be kind to yourself through it all. Tomorrow is another chance to feel better, and you’ll be alright.

[whispersfromaquietheart]

Why Do I Feel Lonely When I Chose to Be Alone?

There’s something strange about choosing solitude – and then feeling lonely in the quiet you asked for.I made a conscious decision to focus on myself. To pause dating, to stop looking for something “out there,” and instead, try to build something “in here.” And honestly? It’s been really good for me.But tonight, I heard someone upstairs bringing someone home. Laughing. Talking. Clearly not…

[ofglitterandgrit]

Still here. Still healing. Still worthy.

Affirmations for when you’re not “over it” yet—