If You’re Hurting Too…

I see you.
I know what it feels like to live with the weight of things no one else can see.
To be shaped by pain you didn’t choose — and then blamed for not smiling through it.

But I also know this:
You are not what broke you.
You are not your illness.
You are not the worst thing you’ve survived.
You’re still rolling.

And out here? That’s enough.

Out here, where forests grow after fire,
where rivers carve their way around stone,
we too are healing in cycles.

Just like the land doesn’t judge the scars left by lightning strikes or wildfires,
we don’t have to hide our own marks.

The earth doesn’t try to erase the pain of the past.
It simply regenerates—every spring, new life pushes through the soil,
even after the coldest winter.
We can do the same.

Our healing doesn’t need to look like perfection.
It doesn’t need to be clean, fast, or free from scars.

Sometimes healing is slow and silent.
Sometimes messy. Always moving.

Healing doesn’t erase the past, but it transforms it.

Like the old-growth forest—weathered by storms,
scarred by time, shaped by loss—
we too grow into something new,
something stronger, because of what we’ve endured.

Even in the depths of hurt, there’s always the potential for new growth.
For a quiet return to balance.

You are not what broke you.
You are the forest after the storm.
You are the river carving its path.

And out here? That’s enough.

→ Explore more Field Notes
→ Related: Blackberries & Grace

Keep momentum:

Do a 2–5 min ritual — quick reset for low-capacity moments.

Build capacity — sleep, basics, and minimums that matter.

Reflect for a minute — short reads with a long tail of calm.