Still Here

Dear You,

Life has a way of changing our roles without asking if we’re ready.

One day, you’re moving through your routines without thinking much about them. And then something happens. Someone needs you differently. Life requires more. Your days rearrange themselves around what has to be done.

So you adjust.

You become the one who remembers.
The one who handles it.
The one who makes sure everyone has what they need.

And because you love them, you do it.

But somewhere between all the things that need your attention, I hope you remember that there is still a you in there, too.

Not the useful you.

Not the responsible you.

Not the version of you attached to everything you do for everyone else.

You.

The woman who has favorite songs and favorite scents. The woman who likes to get dressed just because. The woman who creates things, dreams about things, laughs too loudly at things that probably aren’t that funny.

She’s still there.

And maybe making time for her doesn’t look the way it used to.

Maybe right now it isn’t an entire day to yourself.

Maybe it’s twenty quiet minutes.

Maybe it’s putting on perfume even though you’re not going anywhere special.

Maybe it’s writing something down.

Getting dressed.

Taking the long shower.

Sitting in the car for one more song before you go inside.

Doing something that serves absolutely no one except you.

These things can seem small when life is asking you to carry something big.

But maybe they’re not small at all.

Maybe they’re little ways of saying,

I haven’t forgotten about you.

There will be seasons when love asks more of us.

There will be people we gladly show up for again and again.

But loving them does not require disappearing from your own life.

You are still allowed to have pieces of your day that belong to you.

And if you’re figuring out what that looks like now, that’s okay.

You don’t have to return to the woman you were before life changed.

Maybe you’re meeting the woman who exists now.

The one learning how to hold responsibility in one hand and herself in the other.

The one discovering that making room for herself isn’t selfish.

It’s how she remembers she’s still here.

Maybe that’s part of the unfolding, too.

Not becoming someone entirely new.

Just slowly making your way back to the parts of yourself you thought you had to put away.

So today, find one little thing that feels like you.

And let yourself have it.

Just because it makes you smile.

Just because you miss it.

Just because you can.

Just because you’re still here.

And somewhere in all of this, there is still you.

With love, always,
Maig.