Adulting is hard.
I never thought it would be easy, but as a kid I always assumed it would be better when I got to be in charge of myself. In some ways, it is. I can make my own decisions, choose my own path, and build my own life.
But right now? It doesn’t feel that simple. The truth is, I’m not entirely sure what is going on inside of me. I don’t know if I’m numb, happy, depressed, exhausted, or some strange combination of all of them. What I do know is that I am doing all the things I am supposed to be doing.
In Celebrate Recovery, we often hear the phrase, “Do the next right thing.” So that’s what I’m doing. I’m going to meetings, even if my attendance has been a little sporadic lately. I’m working through my Step Study homework and answering the questions honestly. I’m trying to stay connected to community, even when every part of me would rather isolate. I’m showing up.
I go to work every day. I genuinely enjoy my current position. I work with some great people who make the day better. I’m budgeting. Paying bills. Going to all my therapy sessions . Keeping medical appointments. Taking all my medications. Starting a new treatment soon.
On paper, things look pretty good. Yet somehow it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life unfold. It’s almost as if I’m standing outside myself, observing everything happen without really participating in it. The responsibilities get handled. The appointments get attended.
The boxes get checked. But I don’t always feel connected to any of it. When something good happens, I catch a glimpse of joy. A brief spark. A moment where I think, “There it is.” Then it’s gone.
When I make a mistake or let someone down, those feelings linger a little longer, but even they don’t hit as deeply as they once did. Everything feels muted.
I’ve started wondering if there’s a difference between living on autopilot and white-knuckling your way through life. At this point, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m doing both.
The past year has brought more physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain than I ever expected to carry. So much, in fact, that I wonder if I’ve simply built up a tolerance to it. Not a healthy tolerance.
More like learning to coexist with a constant ache. I see it. I know it’s there. I know I’m carrying it. But somehow I also feel disconnected from it. Like it’s become a permanent companion I’ve stopped trying to fight. A “friend” that refuses to leave.
What confuses me most is that life isn’t falling apart right now. Things are actually okay. I can sit in a room full of people I genuinely enjoy. People who challenge me, teach me, encourage me, and make me laugh. I still laugh with them. I still learn from them. I still sit in the circles. But somewhere deep inside, I feel lonely. Disconnected. Cut off. Almost like I’m watching a performance instead of participating in real life. And I don’t know why.
Maybe this season is part of healing. Maybe after carrying pain for so long, my heart doesn’t quite know what to do when things become stable. Maybe God is doing work beneath the surface that I can’t yet see.
I don’t have a neat ending for this story. Just honesty. Today, I’m doing the next right thing even when I don’t feel it. I’m showing up even when I feel disconnected. I’m trusting God even when my emotions don’t match what I know to be true. And maybe, for this season, that’s enough.
Maybe faith isn’t always feeling close to God. Sometimes faith is simply continuing to put one foot in front of the other while trusting that He is walking beside you, even when everything feels distant.
So for now, I’ll keep doing the next right thing. And I’ll trust that somewhere between the numbness and the healing, God is still at work.
Leave a Reply