dear avoidant hearts

there are times when i avoid things.

not because i don’t care. not because i’m lazy. not because i’m trying to make it worse.

but because even thinking about doing the thing makes my stomach twist.

it might be something small. like a text i haven’t answered. a presentation i have coming up. an important meeting or appointment.

or it might be something bigger. like a conversation i know i need to have. a room i don’t feel ready to walk into. a decision that feels too heavy to hold. but it doesn’t really matter what it is. because my body reacts the same either way.

i freeze. i overthink. i put it off. and i feel guilty for putting it off. and then i avoid the guilt too.

it’s about fear. of messing it up. of feeling uncomfortable. of being misunderstood.

and i work myself up about it — not because i want to make it worse, but because i’m trying to prepare for every possible thing that could go wrong.

anxiety does that.

it rehearses disaster — to protect you from pain before it even happens. it tells you that avoiding the thing will keep you safe.

that if you wait long enough, maybe it’ll disappear.

but here’s the thing: it rarely disappears on its own. and while you’re avoiding it, you’re putting yourself through it twice. once in your head, and once again in real life.

and that’s what makes it so exhausting. you’re not just carrying the weight of what you need to do. you’re carrying the story your brain has built around it, too.

but lately, i’ve been trying something different.

instead of waiting for the anxiety to go away, i’ve been trying to meet it where it is — slowly, softly.

one deep breath. one line written. not to fix everything. just to show myself that i’m still trying.

it’s not easy. some days, it barely feels like i’m moving at all. but baby steps still count. it’s not about speed.

if you’ve been avoiding something lately… i get it. it doesn’t make you weak. or behind. or broken. it usually just means you care. maybe more than you know how to carry. because that’s what anxiety is, isn’t it? care that’s gotten wrapped in fear. your brain trying to protect what your heart cares about — just in a very messy, overwhelming way.

and in the middle of all that noise, it’s easy to forget that survival can be quiet. that progress can feel like standing still. that feeling lost and stuck in the dark doesn’t mean you are.

just because you can’t see the way forward, doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

maybe it’s not about waiting until you can see the path again. maybe it’s about bringing the light with you. you don't need the full map — just a flashlight.

if you can light up even a corner of the dark — the next step — with one truth,

one small act of bravery..

that might be enough to help you find your way.

and maybe, that’s enough to begin again too.

hugs,

k