What's Going on With Me.

A Soft Confession from a loud season

Some days, the hardest thing to do is tell the truth. Especially when the truth makes you flinch.

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“What’s going on with you?”

A simple question. But when I was asked that recently, I didn’t even know where to begin. Where do I start? Hell, what isn’t going on with me?

I wanted to answer. I wanted to say everything. That I’ve been overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, stuck somewhere between survival and silence. That I’ve been smiling on the outside while screaming on the inside. That I’ve been questioning everything—my choices, my worth, my path.

But instead, I paused. I stuttered. I gave a half-ass response that didn’t scratch the surface. Because the truth? Being honest and vulnerable—truly honest—is one of the hardest damn things to do.

Especially when it means facing the disappointment I feel in myself.

See, I thought by this age, I’d be in a different place. Mentally, financially, spiritually. I had this vision of who I’d be, where I’d be—and let’s just say reality came in swinging. And while I know life doesn’t follow some perfect timeline, it’s hard not to feel the sting of delay.