Dear Stranger,
I may not know your name, where you are, or what you’ve been through, but maybe, just maybe, we shared the weight of January together.
January has been a month that stretched me thin. A month that took more than it gave. I walked into it with hope, excitement, with plans, with a heart that still believed in possibility. But somewhere along the way, it became a test.
There was that rejection email, the one that arrived like a quiet storm, shattering something I had built up in my heart. It wasn’t just about the opportunity, it was about the belief that maybe this time, things would align. And yet, it didn’t. I sat there staring at the words, knowing they weren’t personal, but feeling their weight all the same.
And then, another loss. Not one, but two. Family members whose voices I thought I’d hear again, whose presence I assumed would always be there. Grief came knocking, uninvited, as it always does. There is no manual for loss. No right way to process the silence they leave behind.
January has felt like an endless night. And yet, here I am. Here we are. Still breathing. Still holding on. Stilling hoping for that light .
I don’t know what February will bring. I won’t pretend to know if it will be softer or kinder. But I hope and maybe that’s enough. I hope for moments of light, for laughter that doesn’t feel heavy, for reminders that even in the worst of times, we are still capable of joy.
So if January was cruel to you too, take my hand from afar, from the space where strangers meet through shared pain. We made it. And that counts for something.
With hope,
A Fellow Traveler
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