At the Threshold

There are stretches of time when nothing appears to have changed, yet something feels different.

Work continues. You show up. You respond. Life moves in the same directions it always has. And still, there is a subtle shift. An email sits open for longer than it once would have. A plan you agreed to weeks ago now feels heavier as the day approaches. You wake earlier than you need to and lie there, aware.

Over a few weeks, sleep drifts. Bedtime edges later. Mornings lose their steadiness. The rhythm that used to hold you feels less dependable. It’s difficult to pinpoint when that began.

The first instinct is often to tighten things up. Adjust the routine. Recommit. Pay closer attention. That strategy has worked before. It makes sense to reach for it again.

Yet something in the body feels less willing. You go too long without eating because you are caught up in what you are doing and by mid-afternoon there is a familiar ache building above your right eye. You recognise it. You know what caused it. Still, you pushed through.

Signals like that begin to accumulate. Concentration thins. Tolerance narrows. A full diary lands differently in your chest. What once felt like momentum now feels like weight.

There is no drama to this. It unfolds quietly. Capacity shifts in small increments. Energy reorganises. Limits that were once elastic begin to hold their shape.

Admitting that can feel uncomfortable, particularly if you have been competent and reliable for a long time. There can be grief in noticing that an earlier way of operating has reached its edge.

The urge to move forward quickly can be strong. Decide. Adjust. Regain a sense of control. Movement brings relief, even when it is temporary.

Staying requires something else. A willingness to notice without immediately correcting. To let the information land. To observe what steadies you and what unsettles you, without rushing to build a new structure around it.

Clarity tends to form gradually. It shows up in small recognitions. The conversation you no longer want to have. The commitment you decline without over-explaining. The earlier bedtime that feels quietly relieving.

A threshold is rarely announced. You are simply in it.

And perhaps, for now, that’s enough to notice.