Dear Me,

You don’t always recognise yourself lately.

The way your heart races at the smallest thing. The quick snap of irritation that surprises even you. The way tears rise without warning. How noise, decisions, and other people’s needs feel like too much—even when nothing is technically wrong.

It’s not weakness.
It’s not overreacting.
It’s a nervous system asking for relief.

There’s an undercurrent running beneath everything right now—an anxiety that hums even in stillness. Some days, it feels like you’re bracing yourself for… something. You’re not sure what. You just know your body is on alert and your heart is always two steps ahead, anticipating the next thing you’ll need to hold together.

And it’s exhausting.

You don’t want to be irritable. You don’t want to feel edgy or snappy or distant. But you do. And then comes the guilt. The quiet questioning: Why can’t I just hold it together? Why does everything feel so hard?

Here’s the truth:
You’re doing your best.
And your best is not measured by how well you keep it together.

You are not too emotional.
You are not broken.
You are not alone.

What you’re feeling is valid. Hormones, life transitions, the weight of everyone’s expectations—including your own—can wear down even the most resilient woman. Add a dash of perfectionism, a pinch of overstimulation, and a lifetime of being the one who “handles things,” and it makes sense that you feel fragile.

But you don’t have to push through it all in silence.

What if you let yourself slow down?
What if you met your irritability with kindness instead of shame?
What if you gave your anxiety a name and your tears a place to land?

You are allowed to ask for help.
You are allowed to take up space.
You are allowed to not be okay.

This is not a sign of weakness.
This is the sacred whisper of your inner world asking to be tended to.

Gently now. One breath at a time.
Let softness meet the sharp edges.

With heart,
Me