There are mornings where the body feels heavy before anything even happens.
There are evenings where tears arrive late, after holding it together all day.
There are seasons where sadness is not dramatic, just constant.
A low hum of grief, exhaustion, or quiet disappointment.
None of this is wrong.
Healing can look like getting through the day without collapsing.
It can look like needing more rest than usual.
It can look like feeling okay for a week and then feeling raw again for no obvious reason.
The heart does not heal in straight lines.
And the deeper the wound, the more it can ask for patience.
Slow progress is still progress.
Even noticing what hurts is movement.
Even naming the feeling instead of escaping it is movement.
Even surviving a hard day is movement.
If sharing feels possible, a few words about what is present emotionally right now are welcome.