I remember the exact stomach lurching sensation of the ground disappearing from under my feet, It wasn’t a physical fall not this time It was a project I’d poured my heart into something I was sure was my big break crumbling to nothing the email was polite, a classic “we’re going in a different direction,” but all I read was failure.
The impact wasn’t the worst part the worst part was the stillness afterward Lying there in the emotional rubble just staring at the ceiling That quiet hollow space where your ambition used to be, It’s in that silence that the real danger sets in It’s not the fall that defines you it’s how long you decide to stay down. I’ve had my share of scraped knees and bruised pride. We all have. A missed opportunity a personal setback and a plan that spectacularly blew up in your face. The narrative we tell ourselves in those moments is so powerful It’s a seductive whispery voice that says, “See I knew you couldn’t do it Just stay here It’s safer.”
And for a little while I listen I wallow and eat too much ice cream and rewatch old comfort shows avoiding the world as it feels justified Necessary even when something always shifts, It’s never a grand, dramatic moment It’s a tiny, almost insignificant thought that breaks through the fog For me, it was looking at a plant on my windowsill a stupid resilient little succulent I’d forgotten to water for weeks It was wilted a little wrinkled, but fundamentally, it was still alive It hadn’t given up. It was just waiting for a drop of water to decide to thrive again.
