Tangled Yarn.
Sometimes, the only way forward is to stop. Not a soft pause or a gentle slowing down—but a full, heart-stopping, soul-shaking halt. The kind of stop that feels like falling off the ride entirely just to catch your breath, wipe the glitter tears away, and figure out where the track even goes anymore.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about healing. Not the cute kind they show in movies where someone goes on a retreat and comes back “fixed” with a fresh haircut and a glow. I’m talking about the kind of healing that looks like sitting on the floor in your comfiest unicorn pajamas, staring at the same emotional mess you’ve carried for years, and deciding: I can’t keep living like this.
Living with trauma feels like trying to untangle a ball of yarn that someone’s tied in fifty sailor’s knots. You pull one thread and it tightens another. You try to make progress, and instead, something else locks up. It’s frustrating and exhausting. There are days when it feels like I’m not just trying to fix my life—I’m trying to understand it in the first place.
That’s why I’m stepping back for a while. I’m entering a program that I hope will give me space, structure, and support to sit with the knots without panicking. To stop tugging in every direction and start gently unwinding what’s been twisted for far too long. I want to find where it starts. Where I start.
Maybe if I can gather all the pieces and start slowly winding them onto a new spool—thread by thread, memory by memory, truth by truth—I can finally begin again. Not as the shattered version of myself I’ve been trying to hold together, but as the whole, radiant, beautiful being I’ve always been becoming.
So if you’re feeling lost in your own tangle, please know you’re not alone. Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy, it’s tangled, it’s confusing—but it’s possible. And I’m rooting for you, just like I’m rooting for me.
✨🦋 With love and glitter,
Rya (your Bunnicorn Princess)