emotionalhealing

The river current was so strong it dragged the cow the moment she leaned in to take a sip of water.

And when I saw that image, I laughed.

Like… really laughed.

Because why would the cow even put herself in that situation?

Why would she walk right up to something so obviously powerful, so clearly dangerous, and think, “Yeah… this feels safe. Let me just get a little closer.”

And then it hit me.

I am that cow.

Not metaphorically in a cute, poetic way.

No. Fully. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Ungyngily.

I am that cow.

Because I have stood at the edge of things I knew could hurt me.

Things that already showed me their strength. Their unpredictability. Their ability to pull me under.

And I still leaned in.

Not because I didn’t know better.

But because I was thirsty.

Thirsty for connection.

For attention.

For softness.

For something that felt like a spark in a life that sometimes feels… quiet in the wrong ways.

And sometimes, when you’re that kind of thirsty, you convince yourself that you can control the current.

That if you just stay close enough to the edge…

If you don’t go too deep…

If you just take a quick sip…

You’ll be fine.

But currents don’t negotiate.

They don’t care how aware you are.

They don’t pause because you had good intentions.

They don’t say, “Oh, you’ve been through a lot? Let me go easy on you.”

They just pull.

And suddenly you’re not sipping anymore.

You’re being dragged.

And the scariest part?

It’s not even the first time.

That’s the part no one talks about.

Because at some point, you stop asking,

“Why is this happening to me?”

And you start asking,

“Why do I keep walking back to the river?”

Why do I keep choosing things that feel familiar but unsafe?

Why do I keep mistaking intensity for connection?

Why do I keep hoping this time will be different… when the current feels exactly the same?

And here’s the truth I’m still learning:

It’s not because I’m weak.

It’s because I’ve been thirsty for a long time.

And when you’ve been emotionally dehydrated…

even dangerous water starts to look like relief.

But I’m learning something new now.

I don’t need to fight the current to prove I’m strong.

I don’t need to survive another pull to prove I can handle it.

I just… need to stop going so close to the edge.

To pause.

To ask myself, “Is this water safe?”

Not just, “Does this look good right now?”

Because not everything that feels like a spark is meant to warm you.

Some things are just there to burn.

So yeah…

I laughed at that cow.

But now?

I get her.

And maybe the goal isn’t to never be her again.

Maybe the goal is to recognize the river sooner…

take a step back…

and finally choose water that doesn’t try to take you with it.

#adhdawareness #healingjourney #selfawareness #emotionalhealing #ToxicRelationships #traumabond #Breakthecycle #ADHDLife #neurodivergent #adhdawareness #Autism

There’s a kind of sadness that wraps itself around you like a velvet fog—soft, lingering, impossible to shake. I’d been moving through that fog quietly, unsure of whether I was feeling too much or not enough.

Then I heard Selena Gomez’s revival of “El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes.” I’d never heard the original, but this song carried something eerily familiar. It didn’t just play—it echoed. It held me. It stirred something quiet and buried, a sorrow I didn’t realize was still awake inside me.

I’ve felt this before—through music that presses its hand to your chest like it’s trying to resuscitate something. This one did exactly that. It brought up unlived emotions—sentimientos compartidos—grief I didn’t know was mine but somehow felt like it belonged to me. The kind of sorrow that doesn’t ask permission—it just rises.

Since I started listening to it, melancholia has settled over me. Not just sadness—but something deeper. That slow ache that lives in your chest like a ghost of something you never had but still mourn.

I spoke to a friend about it. She said I was experiencing depression. I told her it felt like something else—something heavier, more haunting. I called it melancholia. She brushed it off, said it was all the same. But I disagreed.

Depression is absence. Numbness.

Melancholia is presence. Longing.

It’s grief laced with beauty. Pain that almost feels sacred. It’s nostalgia for a moment in time that doesn’t exist. A hunger for something you can’t name, only feel.

This song didn’t fix me. But it did something else.

It reminded me—I still have a pulse.

I’m still here. Still aching. Still hoping for something. A glance. A connection. A sign that I haven’t disappeared under the surface of my own silence.

I said this to someone:

“I feel like I am the girl with the sad eyes. Diving deeper and deeper into a melancholic state, wanting so badly to find a spark. I want my heart to be shocked back to life.”

And they told me:

“You’re not lost. You’re becoming.”

So this is me—becoming.

Still tender. Still searching. But no longer asleep.

There’s a spark out there. I don’t know what it looks like yet. But I know I want to feel it.

I used to not understand my cousin when she’d listen to sad songs while feeling low. I thought it was like pouring water on a drowning heart. But now I understand. Sometimes the saddest songs are the only ones that know how to hold us.

So if you're reading this and you feel it too, know this: You are not alone. There is no shame in aching. No weakness in longing. Feeling deeply means your heart is still beating.

Let it ache if it must. Let it rise. And when you're ready, follow the faintest flicker of hope. Even if it's just a breath. Even if it's just a song.

You're not lost.

You're becoming.

And somewhere ahead of you—maybe just beyond this fog—there’s a spark.

And this time, it’s for you.

💓💓💓

If this resonated with you, like, share and comment. We weren’t meant to feel this alone.

#melancholia #MentalHealthAwareness #Stillhere #emotionalhealing #youarenotalone #healingthroughfeeling #theacheandthehope #griefandgrowth #musicheals #SelenaGomez #elmuchachodelosojostristes #musicandmentalhealth #becomingnotbroken #quietstrength #louderthansadness #letitrise #melancholia #Stillhere #MentalHealth #mentalhealthmatters #Grief #elmuchachodelosojostristes

From Low to Rise

In the depths, I felt so small,
Drowning in darkness, ready to fall.
But a spark ignited deep inside,
A whisper of hope, my heart’s guide.

With each small step, I found my way,
Rising from shadows into the day.
Though scars remain, I stand tall and free,
A journey of strength, reclaiming me.
In the depths, I felt so small,
Drowning in darkness, ready to fall.
But a spark ignited deep inside,
A whisper of hope, my heart’s guide.

With each small step, I found my way,
Rising from shadows into the day.
Though scars remain, I stand tall and free,
A journey of strength, reclaiming me.

#MentalHealthAwareness #PoetryCommunity #healingjourney #TraumaRecovery #Inspiration #resilience #emotionalhealing #Selflove #RecoveryIsPossible #youarenotalone #mentalhealthmatters