Slightly Feral Tuesday

I woke up today feeling slightly feral.

Actually, scratch that. I woke up feeling like a full-blown gremlin. The kind that shouldn't make major life decisions or be trusted with online shopping.

The sleep was horrific. I spent half the night coughing up what felt like an entire lung while the cat apparently decided darkness was the perfect time to audition for the Olympics. Midnight zoomies hit differently when you're already running on empty.

I got out of bed feeling like I'd lost a fight with life itself.

Then my grandson smiled at me.

He wrapped his little arms around me, gave me one of those giant hugs that somehow make the world stop spinning for a minute, and just like that, the day shifted.

Not because everything was magically fixed.

The cough was still there. I was still exhausted. The cat was still a menace to society.

But the perspective changed.

I made a coffee and sat outside watching the birds. The sun was out, which in winter feels like a personal apology from the universe. There was a pool session planned, therapy, and an energy healing session. A whole day dedicated to taking care of myself.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have understood that.

I would have ignored my body. Pushed through. Pretended I was fine. Told myself everyone else came first. Worn exhaustion like some weird badge of honour.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that surviving and living are two completely different things.

For a long time, my nervous system only knew chaos.

If things were calm, I'd wait for something bad to happen. If people were kind, I'd wonder what they wanted. If I rested, I'd feel guilty. If I looked after myself, I'd convince myself I hadn't earned it.

Healing has been teaching me that peace isn't something you have to justify.

It's okay to take the day slower.

It's okay to book the therapy session.

It's okay to get in the pool and let your body move.

It's okay to sit through an energy healing session simply because it makes you feel grounded.

It's okay to have coffee in the sunshine and watch birds instead of doom-scrolling your way into another existential crisis.

The biggest surprise about healing has been discovering that it isn't all dramatic breakthroughs and life-changing revelations.

Most of it is incredibly ordinary.

It's making a cup of coffee. Going for a walk. Calling a friend. Saying no. Taking a nap. Having a cry. Laughing at the ridiculousness of your cat. Accepting a hug from your grandson.

It's choosing yourself over and over again.

Healing isn't becoming someone new.

I think it's becoming the person you might have been if life hadn't thrown so much crap your way.

It's building the safety you never had. Creating the routines that calm your nervous system. Learning that your body isn't the enemy. Finding people who feel like home. Understanding that family isn't always blood and love isn't always loud.

And some days, healing looks exactly like today.

Slightly feral. A bit gremlin. Held together by coffee and stubbornness. Coughed up a lung. Running on terrible sleep.

But also…

Held by a grandson's hug. Grounded by the sun. Calmed by the birds. Supported by therapy. Open to healing. Choosing peace.

Maybe that's the lesson.

We spend so much time waiting to have our lives together before we're allowed to enjoy them.

But maybe life isn't waiting for us to become perfectly healed.

Maybe it's happening in the messy Tuesdays.

In the coffee. In the chaos. In the cat zoomies. In the laughter. In the moments we stop fighting ourselves and simply say,

"I'm a bit of a mess today, but I'm still going to show up for my life."

And honestly?

I think that's one hell of a way to heal.