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Read This When Your Mind is Too Loud

If you’re here because your chest feels tight, your thoughts are racing, or everything inside you feels like it’s collapsing at once—pause. You don’t need to understand anything right now. You don’t need to fix anything. You don’t need to make decisions.


You are safe in this moment.


Even if it doesn’t feel like it. Even if your body disagrees. Even if your thoughts are telling you otherwise.


Spirals are convincing. They make everything feel urgent and permanent. They tell you stories that sound like facts. They drag up old pain and replay it like it’s happening again. But this is your nervous system overwhelmed—not a reflection of who you are or where your life is going.


This feeling will change.

It always does.

Even when it swears it won’t.


Right now, your only job is to stay.


You don’t need to be productive.

You don’t need to explain yourself.

You don’t need to make sense.


If all you can do is breathe and exist, that is enough.


You are not broken for feeling this way. You are not weak for needing comfort. You are not failing because your coping skills feel far away. Sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is let the wave pass without letting it take them under.


If your thoughts are being cruel, remember this: thoughts are not commands. They are not prophecies. They are not truths carved in stone. They are symptoms. They are echoes. They are old survival patterns flaring up because your system is overwhelmed.


You do not have to agree with them.


If it helps, read this part slowly:


You are allowed to take up space.

You are allowed to feel deeply.

You are allowed to have needs.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to be cared for.


You don’t have to earn gentleness.


If your body feels restless or panicked, try something grounding—but only if it feels okay. Put your feet flat on the floor. Press your hands together. Name five things you can see. Or just wrap your arms around yourself and hold on. There is no “right” way to calm down. There is only finding something that makes this moment slightly less sharp.


If you’re replaying mistakes, shame, or old conversations—pause. You are allowed to forgive yourself for surviving the only way you knew how at the time. You are allowed to be learning. You are allowed to grow slowly.


You are not behind.

You are not defective.

You are not too late.


There are people in this world who would want to sit with you in this moment if they knew how much you were hurting. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, connection exists for you. Support exists for you. Love exists for you—sometimes quietly, sometimes patiently, sometimes waiting for you to believe it again.


If you feel like disappearing, remember this: you are not a burden. Your presence matters, even when it feels heavy. Especially then.


You have survived every spiral before this one.

You have made it through every moment you thought you wouldn’t.

You are still here.


That matters more than you know.


This moment does not define you.

This feeling is not forever.

You are allowed to need help.


Stay. Just for now. Just for this breath. Then the next one.


I’m glad you’re still here.


— The Healing Chaos

“This is not the end of your story—it’s just a hard page. Keep turning it.”

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