It’s that weird part of summer when everything slows down, most of us are ready for fall, but nothing really stops. The news cycles aren’t as exciting, Congress bails, and social media goes into its quiet-quit era. Everyone’s on vacation or talking about needing one, and I’m over here applauding myself for remembering to brush my teeth before noon.

In this silence, however, my brain turns up the volume.

Let’s be clear: I’m not in crisis. I’m also not in the “sure, let’s schedule drinks next week” frame of mind. I know how to look like I’m functioning. I smile, I say I’m “just tired,” and I power through the day like a Temu Roomba that just keeps bumping into furniture and hoping no one looks too closely at the floor.

I see the rut. I feel it. I know it’s there. I’ve turned it over and over and over again in my mind. I even have these little flashes of motivation where I think, “I should really do something about this.” And then I don’t. Not because I’m lazy (though I absolutely am when the mood hits) but because I’m just…worn out. Like mentally reheating the same leftovers and wondering why they don’t taste good anymore.

It’s honestly kind of cruel to be this self-aware and still stuck. I’m not spiraling, I’m stagnating with full consciousness.

I know what the internet tells me: Romanticize your life! Drink lemon water! Buy a new planner! Manifest your best self! I’ve read the posts. I’ve saved the reels. I’ve bought the overpriced pens. I still forget what I’m fixing halfway through the day and end up folding socks like I’m solving a mystery.

And the truth is, the rut isn’t even loud. It’s not chaos or breakdowns, it’s just quiet. Just an undercurrent of meh that slinks across the days.

It looks like dishes that get done eventually.

Like crying in the shower because it’s the only place no one expects anything from you.

Like realizing your idea of “doing something for yourself” is sitting in your car in total silence for six minutes before walking inside.

Also, it’s July 27th, and I just took down my Fourth of July decorations. I’m calling that an accomplishment. It’s giving “patriotism meets procrastination,” and honestly? It kind of slaps. I actually invented procrastination. Did you know that?

So no, I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a color coded path to what’s next. I have a half-finished to-do list, a weird urge to cry every time I see a back-to-school ad, and a browser tab open for zinc supplements I will never purchase.

But I wrote this. I showed up. I said it out loud.

And if you’ve been feeling some version of this quietly stuck, low-key numb, weirdly aware of your own inertia, know you’re not broken. You’re not lazy. You’re not alone. You’re just human in a weird season. And this too shall pass.

I’m not here with answers. I’m just here too.

And maybe, for today, that’s enough.

Tomorrow can deal with itself.

Probably poorly, but with deodorant on. Progress. A win is a win.