The Ache of Being Awake
Grieving the Moral Compass We Didn’t Know We Lost
There’s a certain kind of ache I’ve been feeling lately.
It doesn’t have a clear origin. It’s not tied to a headline or a diagnosis or a single moment.
But it lives in my chest. It lives in my breath.
It lives in the way I find myself staring out the window longer than I used to, searching for something I can’t quite name.
I think I’m grieving.
Not a person.
But a framework.
A shared understanding of decency.
Of truth.
Of what’s right and what’s way, way off.
Because these days, everything feels a little untethered. Everyone’s entitled to their own version of everything. Authenticity is used to justify cruelty. Disconnection is repackaged as freedom. And attention has become a kind of currency, one you’re supposed to spend constantly, without ever stopping to ask: At what cost?
Kids scroll past genocide and then post a selfie.
Leaders lie with impunity. Suffering becomes content.
And somewhere in the middle of it all… we’re expected to keep functioning.
But we’re not built for this.
Not for this level of detachment.
Not for the absence of shared truth.
Not for a world where everything is up for debate, including basic humanity.
So we grieve. ,Even if we don’t call it that.
We feel untethered, anxious, angry, flat. We feel guilty for not “doing more” but too burned out to know what that even means. We wake up with tight chests and call it stress, but maybe it’s deeper than that.
Maybe it’s a heartbreak without a name.
Maybe it’s a mourning for what’s been lost:
Clarity. Accountability. A moral center.
And no morning routine or green juice or optimized nervous system can fix that.
This is a soul-level ache. And it makes perfect sense that you’re tired.
Because underneath the rituals and the strategies and the healing hacks, you’re carrying the weight of a world that feels like it’s slipping off its axis.
So if you feel foggy, furious, shut down, or overly activated, you’re not broken.
You’re awake.
Now the question becomes:
What do we build in its place?
What does it mean to create a life rooted in something real, when so much of the world feels hollow? How do we reclaim the sacred in the middle of a system built on distraction?
This isn’t about fixing everything.
It’s about choosing something.
Choosing connection over performance.
Integrity over appearances.
Care over control.
Truth over trend.
It’s about staying human in a world that keeps asking you to be something less.
So if you’re aching today, let it be known:
You are not alone.
You are not behind.
You are not too sensitive.
You’re responding to something real.
What We Can Do From Here
So no, you can’t fix a fractured world.
But you can choose to be a force of repair inside it.
Not by doing more, but by doing what matters.
By naming what hurts instead of numbing it.
By making space for wonder, not just efficiency.
By tending to your corner of the world with care, even when it feels like the rest is burning.
By telling the truth.
By making meaning, not just noise.
These are not small things.
They are the seeds of something sacred.
Because the ache you feel?
It’s not a sign that you’re falling apart.
It’s a call to build something truer in the rubble.
And no, you may not be able to fix the whole thing.
But you can be a place where the rebuilding begins.
With Love,
Dr. Zelana