The Space Between Then and Now

                                                      There are days when I feel like life has been a long, winding rollercoaster, the kind that never truly stops but only slows down long enough for me to catch my breath.

                                                    I used to think that by a certain age, things would settle into shape and that I’d know who I am, what I want and where I’m going. But the truth is, becoming has been a quieter and slower process than I ever imagined. One made of pauses, relapses, small awakenings and lessons learned when I least expected them.

                                                    Change used to frighten me. I clung to the past, replayed it in my mind like a familiar melody that both comforted and caged me. But with time, I’ve learned that holding on too tightly leaves no space for what’s next. And yet, letting go isn’t easy and it’s not a single act but a series of choices we make in silence, each one a little surrender to trust.

                                                     These days, balance feels less like a goal and more like a conversation with myself. Between who I was, who I am and who I’m still becoming.

Some mornings, I wake up exhausted from work, motherhood and from the endless expectations. But there are also moments when my child laughs, when the sunlight hits the kitchen table just right and when I look at myself in the mirror and see someone softer and not weaker. That remind me: I am still here. Still trying. Still alive in all of this becoming.

                                                    I’ve learned that resilience isn’t about never falling apart. It’s about finding beauty in what remains and grace in how we rebuild.

The past still whispers sometimes and the future feels blurry. But maybe that’s what living really is by walking forward, even when the path isn’t fully clear.

                                                    So, here I am, writing from that in between space, where the woman I was and the woman I’m becoming meet for coffee each morning. They talk. They forgive each other. They laugh about how far they’ve come.

Maybe this is what Her-Via was always meant to be. A place for that conversation to continue.

Warmly, from my path to yours,

Alexandra as Her-Via

Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• Chapter I — Birth of Strength
• Sehnsucht
• Mom, You're Boring
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?