I’m slowly coming out of survival mode.

Not in a grand, dramatic way. Just in the quiet noticing that I might have more space now. That something could shift.

For years, I’ve been giving everything I have to raising my son — and rightly so. But the rhythm of parenting has left me with almost no extra bandwidth.
No energy for friendships.
No space for building something of my own.
No expectation of seeing people again, or forming lasting connections.

It’s been survival. Nothing more.

But now — with a new arrangement coming into place — something is changing. I can feel it. I might be able to breathe a little. I might be able to create. To connect.
Not just recover.

I’ve been stuck for a long time. And I didn’t even fully realize how stuck until the possibility of unsticking arrived.

There’s grief in that. But also excitement.

Because maybe I get to live now. Not just hold it all together.