I have been learning, slowly and a little stubbornly, that being human is not about doing life perfectly. It is about noticing what is here, forgiving what was, and trying again. You know what? Sometimes you don’t even know what you’re carrying until something loosens inside you and you hear it drop.
The Weight I Didn’t See
For years I told myself I was fine about a particular part of my past. I had been close with a family, the kind of close where you are in their kitchen on a Tuesday night, where laughter and music and late stories make the room feel like a soft place to land. I was also going through a difficult time in my own life and I made poor choices. I used their house, and their warmth, as an escape. I partied with the parents. I told myself it was fun, that everyone was in on the good time, but beneath it I was numbing. I was using people for something they could not actually give me.
Then life moved forward. Time did the stretchy thing time does. Five or six years passed. I did not see them. I did not try to fix it. I just tucked the whole mess into a back pocket of my mind and called it “over.”
The Hike That Opened A Door
A few days ago I went hiking. The trail was quiet. It let my brain breathe. There is a kind of honesty that shows up when all you hear is your feet and the wind through leaves. I felt strong, present, a little more myself with each step. It was one of those walks that lets you sort the junk drawer in your head without forcing anything, just space and breath and motion.
On the way home, still flushed and happy, I pulled into a parking lot to grab a Pumpkin Spice coffee. I never even made it inside.
The Encounter I Didn’t Plan
There they were, right there between cars, a person from that family I had not seen in years. No warning. No script.
I cried. Not cute crying. Full, surprised, messy tears. I blurted an apology for being a jack ass years ago. I said I was sorry for the ways I showed up, the ways I used their home as a hiding place, the ways that must have hurt. Before I could spiral into every failed sentence, they hugged me.
They did not make a speech. They did not tally harms. They just held on. I shook and sniffled and felt ridiculous and real at the same time. When I finally pulled back, they said there was nothing to forgive. We are all human. Things could have been handled better by everyone. I am missed.
I did not know I was carrying that much until it lifted. The hug felt like a door clicking open in a house I thought was condemned. And the coffee I stopped for, the one that was supposed to be my treat, stayed a plan I never needed.
Closure That Found Me
I had made myself a villain in that chapter. I had written the narrative with hard lines. You let people down. You lose your place. You don’t get to come back. That hug smudged the ink. It did not erase what happened, it gave it context and compassion. It gave me closure I did not even know I needed.
Driving away, I felt lighter. Not euphoric. Just less armored. Like I could take a fuller breath.
The Little Science I Googled After
Because I am me, I looked it up when I got home. What does a hug do inside a human body? Turns out touch is not just sweet, it is chemical. Hugs can bump up oxytocin, the bonding hormone. They can help calm the stress response, which means cortisol can settle down. Dopamine and serotonin can join the party too, which helps with mood and regulation. Science is magic, man. Who knew.
I keep thinking about the order of things. I did not think my way into release. I felt my way there. A walk. A parking lot. A hug. Then a shift.
What I Learned About “Unfinished”
We talk a lot about closure as if it is a door we are supposed to slam and lock. My experience this week felt more like gently pulling a stuck drawer until it slides back into place. The thing was unfinished, so it kept snagging other parts of my life. I made different choices because of the story I was still telling myself. I guarded. I assumed the worst. I punished myself in small, quiet ways.
And then grace arrived in the shape of another person who had every right to be distant and chose not to be. That choice gave me the freedom to make a new one. I could soften. I could forgive younger me for coping badly. I could remember that accountability and tenderness can share a room.
If You’re Carrying Something Too
Maybe you have an old conversation replaying in your head like a scratched track. Maybe you do not even hear it until you slow down. If any of this sounds familiar, here is me, talking to you like a friend pausing by the driver’s side door.
- Try moving your body. A walk, a stretch, a loop around the block. It helps loosen thoughts that feel glued in place.
- If a name pops up, notice it. You do not have to call. You do not have to fix. Awareness is a step.
- If you do get the chance to speak, lead with your part, not their failures. Say the simple thing you mean.
- And if someone hugs you, let them. Let your nervous system take yes for an answer.
The Perfect In A Messy Moment
We are not meant to be perfect. We are meant to be present. There was nothing flawless about my reunion. Puffy eyes, uneven words, a laugh through tears at the end. It was still perfect in its own way, because it was honest. That is the kind of perfect I want more of, the kind that shows up in the middle of a real, messy, learning life.
If you needed this reminder today, I hope it finds you like that hug found me. Not with fanfare, just with enough warmth to help you set down something heavy you forgot you were holding.
