Joel got cleared at work yesterday. That cloud has finally lifted—but it left its shadow behind. The kind of stress that settles into your bones and doesn’t leave, even when the danger’s passed. I saw it in the way he didn’t speak much. Felt it in the quiet between us. He went to work this morning to get some peace. I understand.
Yesterday, I took Tilly and her friend to Oaty’s.
It was chaotic.
Charged.
One of those outings where everything feels too loud and too close and you’re trying to do your best, but everything spirals. She was emotional. I was overstimulated. I had to walk away at one point—not out of defeat, but survival. Picking battles is still love.
But later, I saw her curled into Joel on the sofa like she’s always belonged there. He held her, and she let him. No hesitation. No guardedness. Just… trust.
That moment stayed with me.
We watched a comedy last night—just for something light, something that didn’t demand too much. It helped. I think we both needed to remember how to laugh at nothing. She went to bed late. The night was rough—tossing, calling, needing me half-asleep and overwhelmed. And still I felt guilty, like Joel might’ve slept better in his own bed, like I wasn’t enough for either of them.
But the truth is, she’s with me all weekend.
And maybe the rhythm is off.
Maybe I am too.
But this morning, she’s in the bath, humming to herself.
I’m doing laundry, cleaning surfaces, making the house feel human again.
Joel’s catching his breath somewhere quieter.
And for the first time in days, there’s a kind of stillness here. Not peace exactly, but pause.
The house isn’t calm.
The weekend won’t be easy.
But we’re okay.
We’re still showing up.
Still trying.
Still loving each other in the noise.
And maybe that’s more than enough.