There are days that scrape you raw. Days that leave you searching for the things that feel like a hug, even when no arms are around. A rawness that makes you ache for softness, a soft place to land. That was my Monday this week.

The days come and go. While I remain grateful and know that joy and grief can co-exist, some days still creep up like moss in a swamp. It doesn’t mean the gut-wrenching feelings caused by the rawness disappear, or that I immediately get over disappointments. No. Each day is a new day, a chance to begin again. I’m proud of myself for honoring my feelings, for holding onto the joy I have today, and for smiling simply because I can.

Sitting with discomfort has become something I’ve grown into. Years ago, I learned that being able to sit with discomfort, to allow time to pass, and to be honest with how you feel is healing in itself. Yes, I speak up when things bother me, and yes, I can be silent with my thoughts and spiral inward. But most importantly, I feel. I apologize when I’m wrong. I cry. I’m sensitive. I’m self-aware.

“Hey, it be like that sometimes” LOL, it’s real. But living abroad while going through the motions has taken a toll on me this past year. I’m still developing community and finding spaces that allow me to unfold organically. I make intentional decisions, yet I still reserve much of my vulnerability for therapy. I’m just being honest.

There is comfort in romanticizing your life. I imagine small, tender moments that make me smile and quiet my racing heartbeat: a four-cheese tortellini in a dimly lit Italian restaurant, Sunday morning writing sessions as sunlight spills across the page, burnt Sienna sunsets that linger on the horizon, the gentle sway of my favorite playlist, Jazz for Lovers, long sighs without explanation, a fresh bouquet of hand-picked flowers, a bottomless brunch on a sunny afternoon, intimate touches and lingering glances, the soft ritual of self-forgiveness, the slow draw of Sade on repeat, steamy “me time,” intentional rest, moments of deep self-reflection, the comfort of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter warming my skin after a shower, walking barefoot across the earth, the small thrill of pure dark chocolate, salty sauna sessions, and the familiar greeting at my favorite restaurant: “Hello, beautiful.”

This past Monday, I recognized just how tough the day was unfolding. A nap didn’t cure the anger I was feeling or the sadness I allowed myself to weep, but by nightfall, I made it work in the best way I felt soothed enough to do. I often whisper to myself: Do something that will make you feel alive, or get lost in the moment—any moment. I remind myself often: You’ve done hard things. You can overcome hard things.