My Spark

I’ve been trying to find my spark while I’m recovering. The small things that make me feel awake instead of drifting. The moments that remind me I’m still here, still capable of feeling something bright.

But the things I thought would help don’t. The hobbies I usually love feel muted. The distractions I used to reach for fall flat. It’s strange to look at familiar joy and feel it slip through my fingers.

Recovery is slow. It asks for patience I don’t always have. It makes everything feel heavier, like I’m walking through fog trying to spot a single flicker of light.

So I’m paying attention. To tiny moments. To soft lifts. To anything that feels even a little warm.

I haven’t found my spark yet. But I’m still looking. And maybe the looking is its own kind of glow.