So Close but Yet So Far

There's a certain kind of ache that doesn't scream. It just sits there… quiet, steady, familiar. The kind of ache that comes from being close enough to see the life you want, but not close enough to touch it. That's where I've been lately - suspended between almost and not yet. It's strange how you can feel something shifting, something opening, something calling you name… and still feel like you're standing on the outside of your own breakthrough. Like the door is cracked but not open. Like the blessing is circling but hasn't landed. like the love is reaching for you but hasn't fully arrived. “So close but yet so far”. Those words have been sitting on my tongue for days. Not in a defeated way - more like a confession. More like admission that I'm tired of pretending I don't feel the distance between where I am and where I'm trying to go. I'm close to healing, but some wounds still sting. I'm close to peace, but my mind still wanders back to old chaos. I'm close to the version of myself I've been fighting to become, but some days I slip into the woman I outgrew. And love… Lord, love is its battlefield. I can feel something real tugging at me, something warm, something that feels like home - but it's not fully here. Not fully mine. Not fully steady. it's like standing in the doorway of something beautiful, knowing it could change everything, but not knowing if it's safe to step inside. So close but yet so far. Behind my closed door, I'll admit this: I'm scared of wanting things I can't hold. I'm scared of hoping for things that might not stay. I'm scared of trusting timing that feels like it's playing with me. But I'm also learning something in this in-between space - the space where nothing is certain but everything is possible. I'm learning patience. I'm learning surrender. I'm learning that sometimes the distance isn't punishment… it's preparation. Maybe the reason I'm “so close” is because I'm finally aligned. Maybe the reason I'm “not there yet” is because the version of me who will receive what's coming is still forming. Maybe the delay isn't a denial - it's a reshaping. Behind my closed door, I'm choosing to believe that what feels far is actually on its way. That what feels delayed is actually being perfected. That what feels out of reach is already mine - just not in my hands yet. So, if you're with me, in this almost-but-not-yet season, just know this: We're not stuck. We're not forgotten. We're not failing. We're becoming. And sometimes becoming takes a little longer then we want. So close but yet so far… but closer than we've ever been.