The Messy Middle
Real questions from students and followers. Honest responses from the in–between.
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.
“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.
“My Parents Are Aging and I’m Not Ready”
Watching your parents age brings grief long before loss arrives. This reflection explores anticipatory grief, role reversal, and the quiet ache of facing mortality through the people who once felt invincible.
“I’m Tired of Being the Strong One”
Being “the strong one” often means being unseen. This reflection explores the quiet cost of parentification, emotional overfunctioning, and the exhaustion of always holding others up while denying your own need to fall apart.
“Why Does Joy Feel So Fleeting?”
Why does joy vanish so quickly? This reflection explores the vulnerability of happiness, the role of hedonic adaptation, and how nervous systems shaped by pain can learn to hold pleasure without fear.
“I Want to Start Over, but I Don’t Know Where to Begin”
Wanting to start over isn’t a failure—it’s an awakening. But beginning again doesn’t start with a plan. It starts with truth. This reflection explores identity shift, transition, and how to rebuild from what’s real.