If You're Still Awake, Call Me When You Get This

2:47 AM

Hey.

I know it's late. I know you're probably asleep, or at least pretending to be, scrolling through your phone in that half-conscious state we've all mastered. But if you're reading this, if you're one of those midnight wanderers like me, then maybe you need to hear this too.

I've been sitting here for the past hour, coffee gone cold, laptop screen casting that familiar blue glow across my face, and I keep thinking about that conversation we had last week. You know, the one where you said you felt like you were drowning in plain sight? Yeah, that one. The one that made my chest tight because I recognized every word.

Here's the thing about this whole journey of becoming who we're supposed to be, nobody tells you about the 2 AM moments. They don't mention how actualization feels less like a sunrise and more like fumbling around in the dark, occasionally bumping into pieces of yourself you forgot existed. They don't warn you that some nights you'll sit there, fully awake, wondering if you're crazy for wanting more, for refusing to settle, for believing there's something bigger waiting for you.

But here's what I want you to know: you're not crazy.

I've been down this road before. Hell, I'm still on it, probably always will be. And let me tell you, it gets messy. It gets lonely. There are nights when you'll question everything,

your decisions, your dreams, that voice inside your head that keeps whispering "keep going" when logic says "give up." There are moments when you'll feel like you're the only one who doesn't have it all figured out, the only one still searching, still becoming.

You're not.

I remember calling my brother at 3 AM once, ugly crying into the phone because I felt like I was falling apart while everyone else was building their lives. She listened to me ramble about feeling lost, about not knowing if I was brave or just stupid for chasing something I couldn't even name. Then he said something that I think about every time I hit one of these midnight moments:

"Maybe falling apart is just making room for who you're becoming."

God, I hated how right he was.

And how smart that sounded because he was so stupid.

See, here's what I've learned about this whole actualization thing, it's not linear. It's not a mountain you climb once and then plant your flag at the top. It's more like waves. Sometimes you're riding high, feeling like you've got it all figured out, posting those inspirational quotes and actually meaning them. Other times you're underwater, salt in your lungs, wondering which way is up.

Both are part of it. Both are necessary.

I think about you a lot, you know. How you light up when you talk about that project you've been working on, the way your whole energy shifts when you're doing something that matters to you. But I also see how you dim yourself sometimes, how you apologize for wanting more, for dreaming bigger, for refusing to accept "good enough" as enough.

Stop apologizing.

The world needs people who are brave enough to keep becoming. It needs people who are willing to sit with the discomfort of not knowing, of being in process, of admitting they're still figuring it out. It needs people like you who refuse to shrink themselves to fit into boxes that were never meant for them anyway.

I won't lie to you, this path isn't for everyone. There are easier ways to live. You could choose comfort over growth, certainty over possibility, fitting in over standing out. Nobody would blame you. Society actually rewards that choice. But I've watched you, and I don't think you're built for easy. I think you're built for something bigger, messier, more beautiful than that.

So when you wake up tomorrow (today, technically), and that familiar anxiety creeps in, when you start questioning whether you're on the right path or just lost, remember this: being lost isn't the opposite of being found. Sometimes it's the only way to discover territories you never knew existed.

Remember that every person you admire, every story that inspires you, every piece of art that moves you, it all came from someone who was brave enough to keep going when they didn't know where they were going. They felt what you're feeling. They had their own 2 AM moments, their own dark nights of the soul, their own conversations with God or the universe or whoever was listening, asking for a sign, a direction, anything.

And they kept going anyway.

That's what makes them extraordinary. Not that they never doubted, but that they doubted and continued. Not that they never felt lost, but that they trusted the process of being found.

You're in good company, friend. This club of midnight seekers, of beautiful wanderers, of people brave enough to become, we're everywhere, even when it feels like you're the only one. We're the ones writing in journals at ungodly hours, taking walks under streetlights, having conversations with ourselves that would sound crazy to anyone who's never felt the pull of something greater.

We're the ones who understand that actualization isn't a destination, it's a way of traveling.

So if you're still awake when you read this, if you're having one of those nights where sleep feels impossible because your soul is too busy growing, call me. Or don't call, but know that I'm here, probably awake too, probably wondering the same things you're wondering. Know that your restlessness isn't pathology, it's possibility. Your dissatisfaction isn't ingratitude, it's evolution.

And if you're reading this at a normal hour, like a rational human being, save it for one of those nights. Because they'll come. They always do when you're brave enough to live a life that matters. And when they do, remember: you're not alone in this. You never were.

Keep going. Keep becoming. Keep trusting that the person you're meant to be is worth every sleepless night, every moment of uncertainty, every leap of faith it takes to get there.

The world is waiting for who you're becoming. And so am I.

Talk soon, Triss

P.S. - Make some tea. Seriously. And maybe put your phone down after this. Sometimes the best conversations happen when you're talking to yourself.