The Messy Middle
Real questions from students and followers. Honest responses from the in–between.
Not everything needs a solution. Some things just need to be said out loud and given space to breathe.
The Messy Middle is where real questions live — the raw, uncertain, in-between places we usually hide. Each entry responds to a reader’s confession or quiet wondering, not to fix it, but to hold it up to the light. These are reflections, not answers. Invitations, not instructions. Because being human isn’t about resolution — it’s about recognition.
These are not advice columns. They are quiet, thoughtful responses to real questions asked by my students and followers navigating life’s uncertain moments. Each story begins with a sentence someone submitted—about grief, change, identity, loss, or not knowing who they are anymore. From there, I write from the in–between. Not to fix. To be with. What you’ll find here isn’t a how-to. It’s a space where becoming is still in progress.
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This is a collection of emotionally grounded responses to real questions submitted by readers. Each entry is written from the place between clarity and conclusion—where something is shifting inside, but the meaning hasn’t fully arrived. If my essays offer insight, these stories offer presence. It’s not about what’s been figured out. It’s about what’s still unfolding.
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The essays on my site are structured, clear, and psychologically resolved. They’re meant to offer understanding. The Messy Middle is different. These pieces are written in direct response to what someone is carrying. They’re more personal, less polished, and intentionally unfinished. They sit with ambiguity, emotional transition, and the quiet honesty of not yet knowing.
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The questions that spark these stories are often short and emotionally raw. A single sentence is enough. “I thought I was over it. Then today happened.” “I don’t know who I am anymore.” “I left, but I still miss them.” These fragments don’t need to be explained—they just need to be real. If it’s something you’ve been carrying and don’t have words for yet, this might be the place to start.
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If you’re holding something in the in–between—grief, confusion, loneliness, transition—you’re invited to send a single sentence, a brief reflection, or a quiet wondering. You can stay anonymous if you prefer. I don’t respond to every submission, but I read them all with care. Some may become the spark for a future story here.
When Nothing Feels Real
What happens when the beliefs that once anchored you—faith, purpose, identity—start to feel hollow? This entry answers a reader who's lost their inner compass and is quietly drifting. A grounded, compassionate reflection on emptiness, psychological survival, and how to rebuild meaning from the inside out.
Creative Control and the Cost of Letting Go
What happens when you're full of vision but lose interest the moment others start changing it? This reader’s questions explores the emotional conflict of creative ownership, the sting of unsolicited collaboration, and how to stay engaged without losing the heart of your ideas.
I Keep Trying to Stay Calm, but Everything Feels Too Loud
What looks like a flying mattress and a crowded kitchen might really be something else: the emotional weight of staying quiet when you’re overwhelmed. Cody’s dreams aren’t random—they’re the mind’s way of asking for boundaries, calm, and the safety to finally say what you need.
“I Keep Thinking I’m Behind in Life, and I Don’t Know How to Stop Comparing”
What if you're not behind—just living a life that doesn’t follow the script? RJ Starr explores the quiet pressure to perform progress, the emotional weight of comparison, and how to come home to yourself when the world rewards visibility over growth. A raw look at what it really means to be in the middle.
“I Can’t Do This—He’s My Best Friend”
How do you say goodbye to a dog who was more than a pet—who was your constant, your comfort, your witness? This reflection sits with the raw grief of losing a beloved companion after fourteen years, without trying to make it okay.
“I Don’t Know How to Let Someone Really Love Me”
What happens when love finally shows up—but your body pulls away? This reflection explores the quiet fear of being seen, and how letting someone love you is not about fearlessness, but about learning how to stay.
“I Don’t Know What I’m Doing All This For Anymore”
When going through the motions starts to feel hollow, what then? This reflection explores the quiet ache of purpose fatigue and why existential drift is often a signal of deeper readiness, not failure.
“I Just Want to Be Left Alone”
Sometimes you just want to be left alone—and that doesn’t mean you’re broken. This reflection explores emotional exhaustion, the difference between solitude and isolation, and why choosing space can be an act of self-respect.
“Why Are People So Nasty and Mean Today?”
When the world feels meaner than ever, it’s not just you noticing. This reflection explores why people lash out, how cultural cruelty has become normalized, and why staying kind is still powerful.
“I Lost My Job, and I Don’t Know Who I Am Without It”
Job loss isn’t just professional—it’s personal. When your role dissolves, it can shake your identity and worth. This reflection explores the quiet grief and the slow, courageous process of rebuilding meaning.
“I Still Care, but I Can’t Go Back”
What do we do with love that’s still alive, even when the relationship isn’t? This reflection explores how to honor care without reopening the door—and why not all endings need to be clean to be complete.
“I Don’t Think I Ever Learned How to Be Alone”
Solitude can feel terrifying when we were never taught how to be alone. This reflection explores emotional regulation, dependency, and how to build a safe, nourishing relationship with yourself.
“I’m Scared of Becoming Bitter”
Bitterness isn’t always cruelty—it’s often heartbreak that never got voiced. This reflection explores boundary grief, emotional exhaustion, and how to protect your tenderness without shutting it down.
“It’s Been Years. Why Does This Still Hurt So Much?”
Some grief doesn’t fade. It lingers quietly for years. This reflection explores nonlinear healing, delayed mourning, and why long-term pain is not a failure—it’s an echo of deep love.
“No Matter What I Do, I Still Feel Behind”
Even with accomplishments, the pressure to “catch up” can haunt us. This reflection explores ambition fatigue, internalized timelines, and the quiet suffering of never feeling like enough.
“How Do I Know Who I Am If I’m Not Achieving?”
When your identity is wrapped around achievement, slowing down can feel like erasure. This reflection explores performance-based worth, emotional disorientation, and how to find yourself beyond your output.
“I Miss Them, but I Know They’re Not Good for Me”
You can miss someone deeply and still know they weren’t good for you. This reflection explores emotional ambivalence, trauma bonding, and the quiet bravery of choosing yourself even in the ache.
“Everything Is Fine. So Why Am I So Anxious?”
When nothing seems wrong but your body stays anxious, it’s not irrational—it’s patterned. A reflection on trauma residue, baseline dysregulation, and the invisible labor of relearning peace.
“I Want Connection, but I Don’t Trust Anyone”
Wanting connection while fearing it isn’t contradiction—it’s the legacy of trust injuries. This reflection explores relational hypervigilance, emotional protection, and the slow work of learning to let someone in.
“I Don’t Feel at Home Anywhere Anymore”
When nothing feels like home—not a place, a person, or even yourself—you’re not broken. You’re in emotional motion. This reflection explores rootlessness, identity shifts, and the grief of belonging to places that no longer fit.