The morning was bleak—gloomy, cold, and heavy with an eerie stillness. As I stepped out, the biting air nipped at my skin. My breath fogged in front of me, matching the mist of uncertainty clouding my thoughts. I walked, scanning the street, searching for my car.

Panic bubbled up inside me. What if I can’t find it? My heart began to race, a familiar feeling creeping up my spine—anxiety, overthinking, spiraling thoughts. What if it was stolen? What if I’m losing my mind?

I forced myself to breathe, closing my eyes for a second. Listen to yourself, Lyn. Trust your instincts. And then, there it was, just a few feet away. Relief washed over me, but the tension in my chest didn’t fully ease.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I gripped the wheel. My head felt strange, almost like a hangover—light, yet heavy all at once. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I didn’t sleep enough.

I turned on the key, and the engine hummed to life. The quiet of the car didn’t bring comfort. Instead, my thoughts surged forward, louder than ever.

What if today’s the day I get the letter? The final confirmation that it’s really over?

What if Jenna and E.L. are together now?

Is this even real?

Will I break down again?

I clenched my jaw, gripping the wheel tighter. Enough.

I was so exhausted—mentally, emotionally. The back and forth, the endless “what-ifs,” the relentless ache of something I could not change. I stared ahead at the road, whispering to myself, It’s really over. She doesn’t want me anymore. She doesn’t even check in. She’s already moved on. So why can’t I?

I inhaled deeply, letting the air fill my lungs before slowly exhaling. Let it go. Move forward. Shift your focus.

But even as I told myself that, the cycle kept repeating—my heart pulling me back to memories, my mind dragging me forward, away from them. Every single day felt like a tug-of-war. The more I thought, the more I drained myself. The past had its claws in me, and I knew if I didn’t loosen its grip, I would be trapped in this endless loop of sorrow.

So I tried. Again and again.

I forced myself to imagine something new—a future where I was okay. Where I was free. Where I wasn’t constantly weighed down by heartbreak. If I can see it, maybe I can become it. My mother’s words echoed in my mind, a lifeline through the chaos:

“Lyn, focus and see yourself in the picture of what you want your life to be.”

I clung to that.

Every day, I practiced shifting my thoughts, redirecting my mind, planting seeds of hope. Some days, it worked. Some days, it didn’t. But I kept trying.

And when it got too much—when the noise inside me grew unbearable—I found a quiet place. I let myself be still. I meditated, not to silence my mind, but to listen—to my body, to my emotions, to the soft whispers of the universe.

I wanted it to hear me.

I wanted it to know what I wished for.

I wanted to believe that better things were waiting for me.

Because they had to be.

And so, I continued driving, not just toward my destination, but toward the person I was becoming—the person who no longer lived in the past but embraced the unknown future ahead.

One breath at a time. One thought at a time.

And, maybe, one day at a time, I would finally feel free.

Have you ever found yourself trapped in your own thoughts, struggling to let go of something that no longer serves you? What helped you find your way back to yourself?