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 Feel Invisible in a Room Full of People Who Claim to Love Me”
There’s a particular ache in feeling invisible to people who say they love you. When presence goes unnoticed and truth echoes into silence, the pain isn’t imagined—it’s abandonment in disguise.
“I Still Feel Abandoned, Even Though I Left”
You left because you had to. But part of you still feels like the one who was left behind. In this quiet reflection, we explore the strange ache of post-breakup abandonment, even when you were the one to end it—and what it means to grieve what was never repaired.