The World’s A Little Blurry: July 22

The world’s a little blurry, so I’m learning to be gentle with myself. 

I wanted to be a little kinder to myself.

I still do.

But sometimes, I think I’m failing.

Not because I don’t know how to care for myself, but because somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that resting was something I had to earn. That slowing down meant falling behind.

Still, I’m trying.

And perhaps trying counts for something.

About a week ago, I started feeling dizzy almost every day.

It caught me off guard because this wasn’t normal for me.

I rarely get dizzy.

But suddenly, I found myself stopping whatever I was doing just to steady myself. There was this quiet fear lingering in the back of my mind.

What is happening to me?

Is something wrong?

As someone who works in the laboratory, it’s difficult not to let your mind wander through every possible explanation. You know just enough to recognize the signs, but sometimes that knowledge also feeds your anxiety.

So I checked my random blood sugar.

It was low.

Hypoglycemia.

At least I had an explanation.

I started eating more regularly, making sure I had something to snack on every few hours, hoping to keep my blood sugar from dropping again.

A few days later, I asked one of my friends at work to draw blood from me.

We ran a Complete Blood Count.

The results came back showing that my hemoglobin had dropped to 11.1 g/dL.

For most people, that number might not seem alarming.

But for me, it felt different.

My hemoglobin has almost always been around 13 g/dL. My body had grown accustomed to that.

Maybe that small drop was enough to make me feel the difference.

Maybe my body was simply asking me to slow down.

And perhaps…

Maybe I had been asking too much from myself.

Looking back now, I’m not even surprised.

For the past several weeks, I’ve been sleeping around five in the morning.

There were shifting duties at work.

There were poems waiting to be written.

Stories waiting to be finished.

A blog that constantly needed updating.

Dreams that always seemed to demand one more hour of my time.

I kept telling myself that I was being productive.

That I was building something.

That every sleepless night would eventually become worth it.

And maybe that’s true.

But somewhere between chasing my dreams and fulfilling my responsibilities, I forgot that my body was quietly trying to keep up with me.

I became so busy filling every empty space that there was no room left for silence.

No room left for rest.

Maybe, if I’m being completely honest, I was keeping myself busy because I didn’t want to think.

If I kept moving, I wouldn’t have time to worry about my future.

I wouldn’t have to think about delayed dreams.

About unanswered prayers.

About the uncertainty waiting ahead.

Productivity became my distraction.

But distractions, no matter how meaningful, eventually become exhausting.

The pressure is real.

Sometimes I wonder if this is what happens to people who have always expected so much from themselves.

The ones who dream big.

The ones who secretly measure themselves against the life they imagined by a certain age.

The frustrated overachievers.

The disappointed perfectionists.

The people who celebrate everyone else’s milestones but quietly question whether they’re falling behind in their own story.

Maybe I’m one of them.

Or maybe I’m simply human.

Yesterday, I did something that felt almost unfamiliar.

I rested. I slept for long hours without feeling guilty. I didn’t open my laptop. I didn’t write. I didn’t edit my blog. I didn’t pressure myself to accomplish something extraordinary.

I simply allowed myself to exist.

And today…

I’m back.

Not because I forced myself to be. But because rest gave me enough strength to begin again.

Another day.

Another hope.

Another opportunity to become the person I’ve been working so hard to become.

I’ve realized that taking care of ourselves isn’t a distraction from our dreams. It is part of the dream.

After all, what good is achieving everything we’ve prayed for if we’ve completely exhausted ourselves by the time we get there?

Our minds deserve gentleness. Our bodies deserve nourishment. Our souls deserve quiet. 

Dreams can wait for a few hours of sleep.

Deadlines can survive another day.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do isn’t pushing ourselves harder.

Sometimes it’s admitting that we need to pause.

And perhaps that isn’t weakness at all.

Perhaps that is wisdom.

I still have dreams I want to pursue. Books I long to publish. A future I continue to pray for. Goals that still keep me awake with excitement. But I also want to be healthy enough to enjoy the life I’m building.

I want the version of me ten years from now to look back with gratitude—not because I sacrificed myself for success, but because I learned that success should never require abandoning myself.

Everything I do today is a seed.

Every page I write.

Every patient I serve.

Every lesson I learn.

Every decision to rest instead of burn myself out.

One day, those seeds will grow.

One day, I’ll harvest them.

And when that day comes, I hope I won’t simply be proud of everything I accomplished.

I hope I’ll also be proud of the person I became along the way.

Someone who learned that ambition and kindness can exist in the same heart.

Someone who discovered that slowing down isn’t giving up.

It’s simply choosing to keep going—at a pace that allows you to arrive whole.

My future self will be proud of me.

I know she will.

Not because I never grew tired.

But because, even on the days I did, I chose to take care of the person carrying all those dreams.

And perhaps that’s where every beautiful future truly begins.