Rise and Rewrite

You ever just wake up one day and feel like... something’s not right? Like your life’s been on autopilot, and suddenly you realize you're not even sure who’s flying the thing?

That moment hit me on the most random Tuesday. No meltdown, no big event. Just me, in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and thinking, "Damn... is this really it?" It wasn’t even a bad day. That’s what made it weird. It was just—quiet. Off. Like I was floating through someone else’s life.

I wasn’t falling apart or anything. I was just... numb. Work? Blah. My social life felt like one big group chat I kept ignoring. And those dreams I used to talk about with stars in my eyes? Tucked away somewhere, probably collecting dust next to an old notebook I hadn’t opened in forever.

Funny thing is, that notebook? I found it again not long after. And inside, I’d scribbled something months earlier: “Rise and Rewrite.” I didn’t even remember writing it. But when I saw it again, it hit different. Like, that little phrase shook something loose in me.

Now listen, when I say "rise," I don’t mean jumping out of bed all pumped and yelling “Let’s crush the day!” Nah. Sometimes rising just means admitting, “Okay, I don’t like where I’m at, and I wanna change that.” Even if you’re still lying in bed when you say it. That counts.

And the rewrite part? That’s the best part. It’s like saying, “Hey, I’m not stuck with this version of the story. I’ve got the pen now.”

I started small — like, super small. I didn’t quit my job or pack my bags to chase sunsets. I just set my alarm 30 minutes earlier. That’s it. Woke up, opened my laptop, and started writing. Nothing fancy. Just journaling, random thoughts, even bad poems. It wasn’t about being good. It was about finally doing something that felt mine.

That quiet time? It gave me space to think. Like, real thinking. I started realizing stuff — like how I always said “yes” just to avoid disappointing people, even when I wanted to scream “no.” Or how I was spending way too much time scrolling through other people’s highlight reels instead of living my own messy, real-life story.

So, slowly — and I mean sloooowly — I began changing stuff. I said no more often. Put the phone down more. Called a couple friends I hadn’t talked to in forever. And yeah, I still slipped up. Old habits don’t go quietly. But rewriting your story? That’s not a one-time edit. It’s a forever kind of thing.

I’ve seen it happen with people around me too. Like my friend Leah — she went through a gut-punch breakup. The kind where you start questioning your entire existence. For months, she was in this fog. Then outta nowhere, she signed up for a pottery class. Just a “what the heck, why not?” kind of move. Now? She’s selling her work and teaching others. She didn’t just heal — she recreated herself.

Or my cousin Jay. He flunked out of college, and honestly, everyone thought that was the end of his story. But he took some time off, worked random jobs, and figured out he hated what he was studying. Went back later for graphic design. Now he’s freelancing and loving it. That failure? Just one messy chapter. He didn’t stop there — he rewrote the next one.

Look, life isn’t some perfectly organized book. It’s more like a journal with doodles in the margins, scratched-out sentences, and coffee stains on the pages. You’re allowed to flip back, erase, scribble something new. Nobody gets it right the first time. Or the second. Or even the fifth.

So if today feels heavy, like you're dragging around all the “should’ve-dones” and “what-ifs,” just breathe. You don’t need to figure it all out today. You just need to take one step.

Stand up. Or sit up. Or crawl if that’s where you’re at. But whatever you do, grab your pen — figuratively, literally, whatever — and start writing your next page.

It doesn’t have to be pretty. Just make sure it’s yours.