Sometimes I wonder.
Am I done?
Not in the giving up sense.
Not in a dramatic, throw-in-the-towel kind of way.
But done… with certain versions of me.
With old identities I’ve already buried but haven’t quite mourned.
Done Trying to Prove Myself
To people who were never really watching.
To systems that never really served me.
To standards I never truly believed in.
Done needing to be understood by people who were never listening.
Done Pretending I Don’t Know
How much I’ve changed.
How much I’ve healed.
How much I still ache sometimes for who I used to be…
Even when I know better.
Done Fighting the Parts of Me That Are Tired
The parts that crave softness over strategy.
Peace over performance.
Stillness over striving.
So am I done?
With some things, yes.
With other things… not even close.
I’m not done becoming.
I’m not done feeling.
I’m not done showing up for what matters now.
But I am done carrying what’s already dead.
And maybe that’s enough for today.