Maybe I’m Allowed to Stay Low for a While

I’ve been feeling a little low lately.

And for once, I don’t really want to rush myself out of it.

Normally, I’m quite good at moving forward. When something happens, I deal with it. I think about what needs to be done, make a decision, adjust, and carry on. Maybe that’s just how I’ve learned to survive certain things in life. I always think, I’ll be okay. And most of the time, I am.

But lately, I’ve realised that knowing I’ll be okay eventually doesn’t mean I have to be okay right now.

Life has humbled me a little.

There have been things happening that I can’t control. Some changes came quite quickly, one after another, and I think my mind was trying to keep up with everything before my emotions had even had the chance to understand what was going on.

At first, I kept thinking, This isn’t me.

Because I know myself. I’m normally bubbly, social, busy, curious. I always have something happening, something I’m working on, somewhere I need to be. I can be completely exhausted and somehow still find another thing to do.

But recently, I’ve wanted to be quiet.

I’ve felt emotional. Sometimes disconnected. Sometimes I don’t feel excited about things that would normally make me happy.

And if I’m completely honest, I’ve felt lonely.

That one has probably been the hardest feeling to admit.

Because my life isn’t empty. Far from it.

I’m a mother. I work. I have friends. I have projects and responsibilities. There are people around me. My days can be so full that sometimes I wish there were more hours in them.

But I’m learning that loneliness has very little to do with how many people are around you.

Sometimes loneliness is simply wanting somewhere safe to land.

Wanting someone beside you without having to explain perfectly why you’re not your usual self. Wanting to feel held, understood, or simply accompanied through something you don’t completely understand yourself yet.

And I think I’ve been craving that.

Not attention.

Not someone to rescue me.

Just connection.

There were moments when I questioned myself because of it. I wondered why I suddenly felt so needy, emotional or sensitive. I wondered where the independent version of me had gone.

But maybe she hasn’t gone anywhere.

Maybe this is also me.

Maybe I’m allowed to be independent and still need someone sometimes.

Maybe I can be strong and still feel scared.

Maybe I can have a beautiful, full life and still feel lonely on certain nights.

Maybe two things can be true at the same time.

And something else has been different this time.

I’m actually talking about it.

I’m saying when I’m not okay.

I’m saying when I feel lonely. When I feel overwhelmed. When something scares me. When I need a little more closeness than usual.

That might sound like such a small thing, but for me, I don’t think it is.

There is always a temptation to keep difficult feelings inside until I understand them properly. To process everything myself first and only speak when I can explain it calmly and logically.

But I’m learning that feelings don’t always arrive in neat sentences.

Sometimes all I can say is, I don’t feel okay today.

And maybe that is enough.

I don’t need to know exactly why before I communicate it.

I don’t need to make my feelings smaller so they’re easier for someone else to receive.

And I don’t always have to arrive with the solution.

There is something incredibly comforting about knowing that someone can sit with those feelings without immediately trying to fix them.

Someone who doesn’t necessarily have the answer either, but can somehow help carry the weight of the moment.

I think that has taught me something about what emotional safety actually means.

It isn’t someone making difficult things disappear.

It isn’t being rescued.

It’s being able to say, This is where I am today, and knowing there is room for that version of you too.

The happy version. The independent version. The complicated version. The quiet version. The version who doesn’t really know what she needs yet.

Sometimes just knowing someone is willing to stand beside you while you figure it out makes everything feel slightly less heavy.

It doesn’t change what I have to go through.

It doesn’t take away the uncomfortable parts.

But somehow, it reminds me that I’ll be okay.

And maybe that is one of the softer lessons life is giving me right now: I don’t always have to carry everything alone just because I’m capable of carrying it.

There is strength in communicating too.

There is strength in saying what you need.

There is strength in allowing somebody to see you when you aren’t at your best.

And there is something beautiful about discovering that vulnerability doesn’t always push people away.

Sometimes it brings you closer.

I think we put so much pressure on ourselves to turn difficult experiences into lessons immediately.

Something painful happens and suddenly we’re supposed to become wiser, stronger, healed, grateful.

But sometimes I don’t want to find the lesson yet.

Sometimes something is just hard.

Sometimes I just want to say, I don’t like how this feels.

And leave it there.

I don’t need to make everything beautiful while I’m still experiencing it.

There will probably be a lesson somewhere. There usually is. But I can find it later.

Right now, I think my job is simply to allow myself to experience this version of life too.

The slower days.

The emotional days.

The days when I don’t have the energy to be the bubbly version of myself.

The nights when everything suddenly feels heavier than it did in the morning.

The moments when I want someone beside me.

The moments when I just want to stay home and disappear into my own little world for a while.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that anymore.

Because underneath all these feelings, something quite interesting has happened.

I actually feel clearer about what I want.

Life can be strange like that.

Sometimes everything around you feels messy, but something inside you becomes incredibly simple.

I know what kind of life I want.

I know what kind of love I want.

I know how I want a relationship to feel.

I know what kind of people I want around me.

I know what I’m willing to work through, and I know what I no longer want to tolerate.

I don’t want chaos disguised as passion.

I don’t want to constantly wonder where I stand.

I don’t want to chase people, situations or opportunities that require me to abandon myself just to keep them.

I want peace.

Consistency.

Communication.

Kindness.

And maybe now I would add something else to that list.

I want to be able to be human with someone.

Not always fun. Not always independent. Not always put together.

Just human.

I want the kind of connection where difficult conversations don’t automatically become threats to the relationship. Where saying I need you today doesn’t feel embarrassing. Where two people can sit inside an uncomfortable moment without one of them needing to run away from it.

I want people who make life feel a little softer, not harder.

I want to feel at home in my own life.

And maybe I needed some of these uncomfortable experiences to understand that.

Not because everything happens for a reason. I’m not even sure I believe that anymore.

Some things just happen.

Some things are unfair.

Some things arrive at terrible timing.

Some things we simply cannot control.

But I do believe we get to decide what we take from them.

And what I’m taking from this chapter is a deeper understanding of myself.

I’m learning that I don’t have to control every outcome.

I’m learning that asking for emotional support doesn’t make me less independent.

I’m learning that communicating what I feel is healthier than quietly expecting someone to notice.

I’m learning that I can know exactly what I want and still not know exactly what happens next.

And maybe most importantly, I’m learning that I don’t need to rush myself back to the person I was before.

Because I’m still her.

She’s just quiet right now.

Maybe she’s tired.

Maybe she’s processing.

Maybe she just needs a little time.

So I’m letting myself stay low for a while.

Not forever.

I know myself enough to know that.

The laughter will come back. The energy will come back. I’ll get excited about stupid little things again. I’ll make plans, dress up, go out, laugh too loudly, work too much, dream about something new and probably fill my calendar again.

But I don’t need to hurry there.

For now, I can just be here.

A little emotional.

A little lonely.

A little humbled by life.

But also strangely more certain about myself.

And grateful that, even in a chapter where I’m learning how little I can control, I’m also learning that I don’t have to experience every difficult feeling completely on my own.

Maybe this isn’t me falling apart.

Maybe this is simply me experiencing a part of life that I normally try to move through too quickly.

And this time, instead of running from it, fixing it, distracting myself or pretending I’m fine, I’m going to let myself feel it.

And when I need to, I’m going to say it out loud.

Because being low doesn’t mean I’ve lost myself.

Needing someone doesn’t mean I’ve lost my independence.

And allowing someone to hold a little bit of the weight with me doesn’t mean I’m not strong enough to carry it myself.

Sometimes you just need to sit quietly with yourself for a while.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, someone sits quietly beside you.

Not to save you.

Just to remind you that you’re not alone.

And somehow, that makes it a little easier to trust that you’ll find your way back up.

From my heart to yours,

CM

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