“This is not advice. This is just me coping in public.”

I’m not here to tell anyone what to do. I barely know what I’m doing most days. But sometimes the only way I can make sense of my own thoughts is by putting them somewhere outside my head. So here I am, talking through the chaos and hoping something in it feels less heavy once it’s in the open.

I’m not trying to be wise. I’m not trying to be deep. I’m just trying to sort out the noise the same way everyone else does. Some days it feels like I’m holding myself together with half-formed thoughts and stubborn optimism. Other days I’m just doing the next small thing because anything bigger feels impossible.

Sharing it doesn’t mean I think I’ve solved anything. It just means I’m trying. Writing helps me see what I’m actually feeling instead of pretending everything makes sense. And if saying it out loud makes it a little more real, then maybe it also makes it a little easier to carry.

If someone else sees themselves in this, that’s fine. If they don’t, that’s fine too. I’m not offering steps, solutions, or some polished epiphany. I’m just showing the messy middle instead of waiting for some perfect ending that may never show up.

So no, this isn’t advice. It’s just me, coping in public, hoping that admitting the struggle takes away some of its power. And if nothing else, at least it’s honest.