In this episode, I’m reading from Chapter 1 of Halfway to Whole—a book stitched together from the middle spaces. The in-betweens. The not-quite-broken but not-yet-healed. These pages began on a day I couldn’t name what I felt but knew it wasn’t nothing. If you’ve ever stood still in the middle of your own life and wondered what comes next, this one’s for you. Let’s begin.
“I didn’t know I was healing. I thought I was just tired. I thought maybe I was bored, or lonely, or allergic to fluorescent light. The truth is, I had grown too used to survival. Comfort felt foreign, like wearing someone else’s sweater—familiar in shape but wrong in scent. When people asked how I was, I started saying “fine” again, but I said it in lowercase. Quiet. Unconvincing. Not quite a lie, not quite a confession.
The first time I laughed without flinching, it surprised me. It wasn’t loud. It slipped out mid-sentence, soft and round, and I looked around like someone might take it back. That’s the thing about getting better—you don’t notice it when it’s happening. It’s like watching ice melt. You only realize it’s warmer when your fingers stop aching.
I was halfway to whole before I ever admitted I’d been broken. Not shattered—just cracked in places I kept hidden under cleverness and chores. The kind of fractured you only feel when the noise fades and you’re left with your own heartbeat. And now I wonder if wholeness isn’t a destination at all, but a rhythm. A slow returning. A steadying of breath between what hurt and what’s next.”