I thought I was doing the right things, but it started to feel like something I could fail at

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In California, everyone seems to be figuring something out.

Coffee shop conversations get personal.
Hikes turn into nervous system check-ins.
New people I meet have a podcast, a process, someone they swear by.

It feels like everyone here is doing some kind of self-work.

It’s unfamiliar.
I’m trying to soak everything in.

There’s always a suggestion.

Have you tried ayahuasca?
Are you in EMDR?
You should read this.
You need to microdose.
Have you tried soaking your feet in the ocean?
Get a cat, they help regulate.

Journal more.
Journal less.

Forgive.
Rage.
Release.

Healing starts to feel like a performance review.

I start tracking myself like a project.

Am I integrating fast enough?
Am I self-aware enough?
Am I doing this right?

Consciousness starts to feel like homework.

I try using the language.

Nervous system.
Attachment.
Boundaries.
IFS.

I can say the words.

But inside, it’s still foreign.

Most days I want to sit on the floor and not do a thing.

And I feel behind.

Not because I’m not trying,
but because trying never seems finished.

Not trying feels irresponsible.
Like regression.
Like I’m wasting the fact that I survived.

Maybe healing isn’t another summit.

Maybe it’s sitting down halfway up the mountain
and letting that be enough.

Everyone is healing here.

I am too.
Just slower.
Quieter.

That will have to count.