I’m writing this on my phone, still tucked under the sheets, half-dreaming and half-awake. My body clock is out of rhythm again—the kind of disarray that only back-to-back night shifts can cause. I slept late and part of me still wants to drift back to sleep before I pull myself together for Sunday evening mass. But in the quiet hush of this slow morning, I felt the need to write, to catch my thoughts before they scatter.

There’s a soft power in making space for reflection, even if it’s from the warmth of your bed, eyes still heavy.

I’m 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 for the things that held me together this week:

Good health, which feels more like a blessing when you witness others fight for theirs.

Rest, though scattered and stolen between alarms and shifts.

And yes, pay day, not just for the money but for what it represents—a kind of recognition, even if silent.

I’m 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 for good news in the coming days. My mom’s check-up is a silent prayer I carry close. There’s also my own physio appointment—this persistent neck pain, sneaky and stubborn, has worsened my migraines lately. It’s funny how the body speaks when the mind forgets to rest.

What 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 was a quiet heart-to-heart with my colleagues—the kind of real talk that isn’t always easy to find on a busy ward. We talked about things that mattered beyond the hospital walls. Those moments reminded me we’re more than our roles; we’re just people trying to make it through the days, just like everyone else.

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 was the intensity of the week. It’s been… a lot. Night shifts have taken more than they’ve given lately, and I find myself whispering, “I don’t think I enjoy this anymore.” Maybe it’s fatigue talking. Or maybe it’s truth finally catching up with me. But it’s okay to outgrow something that once fit.

This 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌’𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒏 was a playlist of 𝙄𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙨. Their music has this heartbeat rhythm—loud, honest, a bit raw. Perfect for a soul that’s tired but still trying. There’s a kind of kinship in those lyrics when you feel like you’re running on empty but refusing to stop.

And the 𝓺𝓾𝓸𝓽𝓮 that held me was:

“𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈.”

Two words. No fanfare. No fluff. But enough. Sometimes, that’s all the encouragement we need. Not to soar. Not to conquer. Just… keep going.

Some weeks don’t offer breakthroughs or grand revelations. Some weeks just ask you to endure. This was one of those weeks.

But there’s something deeply sacred about making it to another Sunday—tired, messy, grateful, and still intact. Life isn’t always about progress. Sometimes it’s just about presence.

So here I am, half-awake, a little sore, but breathing. Writing. Choosing stillness before another stretch begins.

And maybe that’s enough for today.

—𝑨𝒏𝒋 ♡︎