Still going

 Still Going

People have been asking, “Are you okay?”

And the truth is… I’m still going.

Still putting one foot in front of the other, even on days when I’d rather sit under a tree and wait for clarity to find me.

Life has a way of not waiting for us to feel ready.

It rushes ahead while we’re still making plans, while we’re still trying to make sense of the story we’re in.

These days have felt like climbing dunes.

The kind with loose sand that shifts under your feet just as you think, “I’ve got this.”

You climb, you slip, you brace your back against the ache.

Sometimes you make it to the top, wind in your hair, proud and breathless.

Other times, you’re back where you started—sandy, sore, and unsure whether to laugh or cry.

And social media, with its pretty posts and polished poems, can make healing and acceptance look so damn easy.

But it’s not.

Yes, my body has carried some of the weight.

Stress leaves its footprints, and I’ve been learning (again) how to pause, breathe, and let it pass through.

We’ve changed our route—literally and figuratively.

The road has taken us along the Eastern Cape coast, where winter surprised us with days of sunshine between the wind and rain.

We’re slowly making our way toward a family gathering later this year.

My mother is still holding strong—though I can see the cost this journey sometimes asks of her. The walks to the shower block, the cold mornings, the unpredictable weather… it’s all more than we imagined, but here we are.

So no, I’m not lost. Just living the questions.

Still figuring out who I am, and where this road wants to take me.

Thank you for asking. Thank you for caring.