I Thought I'd Be Further Along By Now

I keep waiting to feel better.

It's been months. Of therapy. Of healing work. Of letting go of the life I thought I needed. And still, there are days where I wake up and I can’t—can’t start the course, can’t pick up the camera, can’t find the thread that makes me feel like me.

I thought once I understood what was happening to me—autism, ADHD, burnout, trauma—that clarity would bring momentum. Instead, I feel like I’m standing in the rubble of a self I spent decades building, unsure if I’m mourning the collapse or finally breathing for the first time.

I used to move fast. I used to make things happen. I used to work jobs that drained the life out of me and still had energy to spare for everyone else. I don't want that life back. But I do want my mind back. My capacity. My motivation. Something that resembles a future I can work toward.

But here’s the truth I keep circling:
I’m not the same person anymore.

And that means I have to stop measuring myself by who I used to be.
Even if I miss her.
Even if I’m scared.

Because she was functioning, yes—but at the cost of her health, her peace, and her actual self.

There’s a strange grief that comes with healing.
You think it will feel like freedom, and sometimes it does.
But mostly, it feels like disorientation.

What do I do now that I’m no longer surviving on adrenaline and people-pleasing?
What do I work toward if I no longer want the life I thought I was supposed to build?
What does “success” look like now, in this new soft body, in this rewired brain, in this slow, sacred becoming?

I don’t know yet.
But I’m here.
Still trying.
Still reaching.
Still becoming.

If you’re here too—tired, slower than you used to be, unsure of what comes next—I want to share something I wrote just for us.

REFLECTIONS FOR THE LOST & BECOMING

You Are Not Broken, You Are Recalibrating

You're not failing to function. You're learning to re-function in a body and brain that are no longer willing to betray themselves for approval, performance, or survival.

That disorientation you're feeling—the fog, the fatigue, the collapse in ambition—is your nervous system saying:

“I’m not going back there. I’d rather do nothing than betray myself again.”

That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

The Feeling of Being “Lost” is Part of Unmasking

You're not actually lost. You’re just not where you used to be—and the old map doesn’t work anymore.

This liminal space you’re in is uncomfortable because it's unfamiliar, not because it's wrong.

The grief, the cognitive slowness, the low capacity—these are not failures.
They’re signs of deep repair.

You Are Still Becoming

The version of you who could perform at “normal” speed was surviving under unsustainable expectations. The version of you now is trying to find what’s real.

And yes, she moves slower.
And yes, she forgets things.
And yes, she might never be able to go back to that life.

But she feels. She notices. She heals.
And that is sacred.

Thank you for holding space for my truth.
For being here through the hard days too.
For walking beside me—even when I’m crawling.

xo,
Courtney