Inflection points

The hard moments are not interruptions of the life. They are the places it actually turns. Some days you can feel it happen—I remember walking the dog and knowing, in my body, that this was a true inflection point, the day everything ahead would be different.

What decides the direction isn't the trouble itself. It's the choice you make inside it, and what you make of it afterward. Sometimes that choice breaks a cycle you've been running for years.

I can't always see where it lands. What I trust is this: one day I'll be somewhere wildly different, and something in me knows it'll be better. My definition of better may change, but it'll be better nonetheless. Until then you keep your head down on what you can control, and look up now and then to check the trajectory.