Through the Fog

Tag: mental_health

  • Gratitude

    I don’t always say it out loud,

    but I’m grateful.

    Not in some big, dramatic way —

    just in the quiet, steady way you feel

    when you look back and realize

    you survived things you thought would break you.

    I’m grateful for the people who stayed,

    and even the ones who left,

    because they taught me something

    I didn’t know I needed.

    I’m grateful for the days that felt impossible

    and the nights I didn’t think I’d make it through,

    because somehow I did.

    I’m grateful for the small things —

    the ones nobody notices

    but somehow keep me going:

    a warm drink,

    a song I forgot I loved,

    a moment where my chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

    And I’m grateful for myself,

    even if I don’t say it enough.

    For the version of me that kept trying

    when it would’ve been easier to give up.

    Gratitude doesn’t fix everything,

    but it reminds me that not everything is broken.

    And some days,

    that’s enough.

  • I Can’t Outrun Myself

    I’ve tried—

    God, I’ve tried—

    to outrun the parts of me

    that keep dragging me back

    into the places I swore I’d never return to.

    I’ve run until my lungs burned,

    until my thoughts blurred,

    until the world around me felt

    farther away than my own heartbeat.

    But no matter how fast I go,

    no matter how far I push,

    I always find myself

    waiting at the finish line.

    I can’t outrun myself.

    Not the memories I buried in shallow graves,

    not the habits that linger like ghosts,

    not the ache that rises

    when the night gets too quiet

    and the truth gets too loud.

    I keep hoping distance will save me—

    that miles will become medicine,

    that new places will give me new skin.

    But I carry the same bones,

    the same bruises,

    the same soft, stubborn heart

    that refuses to forget.

    Some days I feel like two people—

    the one who wants to heal

    and the one who keeps sabotaging the healing,

    locked in an endless chase

    around the ruins of who I used to be.

    But maybe the answer

    isn’t running.

    Maybe it’s stopping long enough

    to look myself in the eyes

    and say,

    I’m still here.

    I’m still trying.

    I’m still worth saving.

    I can’t outrun myself—

    but maybe

    I can learn to walk beside her.