This morning, I woke up with a little more clarity, as if the chaos of the past few months had finally settled into something I could hold. I’d been wanting to write an entry for the journal for months, but the words never came. And now, suddenly, here they are.
Life turned itself inside out. I had to close doors, let go of entire worlds I had built in my head. With each goodbye, a little more of my heart splintered. And just like that, I found myself in a place I know all too well. Standing at the edge of something new. Forced to start over once again, when I wasn't ready.
I’ve been here so many times before. Moving countries, leaving people behind, shedding old versions of myself like second skins. Over and over, life has brought me back to this moment, as if trying to teach me something I haven’t quite grasped yet. But this time, I decided to do it differently. No running. No numbing. Just standing in the middle of it all, with my chest open, ready to see what happens next. I’ve spent weeks searching for answers, turning every thought over in my mind. Then, on a random, slightly hungover Saturday, an unexpected call from a friend brought me face to face with my pain.
And for the first time, I didn’t look away.
The Maria of the past was always in motion—chasing intensity, filling every silence, avoiding stillness at all costs. There was always an adventure, a whirlwind romance, an elaborate plan. A, B, C. A million ways to keep from feeling too much.
And just when I thought I had it all figured out, life knocked me off my feet again. But now, looking back, I see it clearly:
This was the gift.
The ability to feel—completely, fully, without escape.
Picking up the pieces of my heart has made room for something new: a softer, stronger version of myself. And with these fragments in my hands, I’ve watched new doors swing open—bigger, wilder, more unexpected than before. My dreams are bolder, my steps are surer, and I'm continually discovering the depths of my own potential.
Amidst the chaos, I scribbled something down quickly, a desperate attempt to understand myself and finally surrender to the pain.
Time flies like startled birds, and here I am, holding on to life with both hands. My body, an ever-shifting home, carrying me through a thousand different versions of myself.
Sometimes, life hits me straight in the chest, knocking me into places I've been before but never fully understood. And this time, I found a different version of myself. In those in-between moments, the same old questions return, carried in on the wind.
So I become the tightrope walker of my own life—suspended between fear and trust, uncertainty and surrender. Every step, a silent conversation with the unknown. Life is a mystery, and I am just a traveler passing through, letting it all unfold.
Ironically, the roughest part of landing is where all the real movement happens.
One chapter closes, another begins.
I grow. I soften. I let myself cry.
Ps: I invite you to listen to this song “Recomençar - Tim Bernardes ” which was playing in the background while I was writing these words.
With love,
María.