What chasing after a penguin in the Rockefeller underground taught me about my limits.

I feel this every day. Yesterday, during a coffee date with a friend who also has health struggles, I shared how much I miss the woman who could get stuff done. Her enthusiastic, “Yes, me too!” felt like a homecoming. We aren’t alone.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who struggles to be as kind to myself as I am to others.

I’m definitely still working on the listening part! It’s better to slow down before the breakdown, but I’ve always been such a doer. I’m still redefining what productivity looks like for me in this current season.

I haven’t reconciled that chronic illness means not knowing what body I'll wake up in. Even when I get “enough” sleep, I usually still wake up tired. I’m behind before the day starts. I don’t always feel blessed to be in this body, but I do have more gratitude for what it can still do.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been called dramatic at some point (or all the points!). Thoughts on what's really behind hand twirls, funny voices, and exaggerated faces.

Is this as hard for everyone else as it is for me? Today’s Witness is for everyone who needs (and wants) to accept our infinite worth. Just. The. Way. We. Are.

If anyone else is still recovering from the holiday season – I’m with you. Extra activities and “cheat” foods throw off the system. But my body doesn’t need a lecture, it needs nurturing and kindness.

Anyone with “mysterious” symptoms knows the challenges of navigating healthcare. Even the most sincere provider doesn’t have all the answers. I’m sure there are many good reasons we don’t hear it, but it would be such a relief to me if they said, “I don’t know, but we’ll do our best to find out.”

Lament is an expression of grief, rooted in faith. Talking about how our bodies don’t work the way they used to (or never worked) isn’t always complaining. More often, we’re lamenting the injustice of pain, overwhelm, and exhaustion.

Let's give ourselves permission not to feel like a failure even on January 21. Recovering from the holidays, especially in a chronically ill body, doesn't happen overnight. Just being counts towards everything today.

Just This is a monthly list of ordinary moments, annoyances, comforts, and small mercies that don’t require interpretation. No moral. No metaphor. No “what is this teaching me?” Just … this.