Burning Beneath

I find myself standing at a crossroads—one that feels heavier than any I’ve encountered before. On one side, there’s the familiar path: the job that brings stability, the benefits that support my family, the predictable routine I know how to navigate. But with that path comes something else—a slow erosion of who I am. A quiet, constant sacrifice of self for survival.

On the other side, there’s change. The unknown. A leap into something new that might restore parts of me I’ve lost, or buried, just to keep going. But that leap comes with risk—losing the safety net, letting go of the benefits I’ve come to rely on, starting over without a clear guarantee of success.

I wish I could say the answer is clear. But it’s not. Not when I wake up each morning and have to fight my own mind just to get out of bed. Not when the weight of anxiety and depression feels like a tidal wave crashing over me, pulling me under while I struggle to breathe. I smile, I show up, I hold everything together—for them. For my family. But inside, I’m unraveling.

There are days where all I want is to stay curled up in bed, buried beneath a blanket, away from the noise of the world and the louder chaos inside my head. Thoughts race endlessly—one sparking the next, like a domino chain I can’t stop. One moment I’m wondering what’s for dinner, the next I’m reliving old traumas, fearing future failures, doubting my worth, my strength, my direction.

I am exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I crave a break from the storm inside my brain. A moment of peace. A breath without fear. A pause from this never-ending inner war.

And so, I come back to the question: Is change a good thing or a bad thing?

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s both. Maybe the answer isn’t in the question itself, but in the courage it takes to ask it—over and over—until I find a way forward.

Right now, I don’t have all the answers. But I’m writing this to say: If you’re here too—torn, hurting, unsure—you’re not alone. We don’t have to pretend to be okay when we’re not. We just need to keep breathing. One breath. One step. One tiny moment at a time.

Even if the path is unclear, even if change feels terrifying, even if it hurts—we’re still here. And that means something.