A Letter for April: You Are Not Behind. You Are Becoming.
To the one holding it all together (barely),
To the one feeling tender for no apparent reason,
To the one who keeps asking, quietly, “What’s wrong with me?” —
There is nothing wrong with you.
There is something happening to all of us.
I’m writing this from the threshold of April — a month that doesn’t roar in with declarations, but one that hums underneath everything like a secret. There’s a quiet shift happening. And you’re not imagining it.
In session after session, I’ve heard the same song, sung in slightly different keys:
“I feel like I’m unravelling, but in a way that feels... necessary.”
“I’m tired of performing strength.”
“I don’t want to be needed to be valued.”
“I just want to feel like myself again.”
These words aren’t complaints.
They’re awakenings.
And you might be feeling them too.
April is a month of soul recalibration.
Of shedding what no longer fits, even if it once protected you.
Of questioning roles you never meant to play.
Of realizing that being liked isn’t the same as being known.
And maybe — if you’re honest — you’re exhausted from being useful. From chasing safety through perfection. From translating your needs into palatable whispers, hoping someone will understand without you having to name the ache.
Let me say this plainly:
You are allowed to exist outside of your usefulness.
You are allowed to want softness.
You are allowed to stop fixing yourself and start feeling yourself — in all your nuance, complexity, and craving.
What I’m noticing — both in my clients and in the collective energy that social media often mirrors — is that we’re collectively burnt out on the idea that our emotions are problems to solve. The inner critic is loud. The people-pleasing is automatic. The need to be chosen is shadowing the truth of our own choosing.
But here’s what’s shifting:
We’re starting to listen differently.
We’re noticing the ways our bodies say no even when our mouths still say yes.
We’re re-learning how to hear our own voice beneath the noise.
And this shift — though quiet — is revolutionary.
You might not feel brave.
You might not feel clear.
But here you are, reading this.
Something in you still believes in your own becoming.
That’s holy.
Let April be the month you stop rushing your healing.
Let it be the month you trade punishment for compassion.
Let it be the month you remember: you don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to be whole to be loved.
You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy.
If no one has told you lately:
You’re not broken.
You’re breaking open.
And that is where the light gets in.
I’m right here with you —
in the unwinding,
in the quiet bravery of being human,
in the sacred mess of what’s next.
With love,
Abby
Therapist. Mirror. Fellow feeler.
