But...

And that wasn't right.

I understand that you tried once, and that you were punished for trying.

And that wasn't right either.

I know that moving sometimes seems like the riskiest thing to do.

I know that doing anything else, being anywhere else but here, can be absolutely terrifying.

But you can move.

You don't need to run, you can walk if you'd like.

You can move slowly.

You can pretend you are underwater.

You can pretend you are an astronaut, navigating gently through the cosmos.

(You have forgotten this: your muscles can sing.

They can move in a way that gives you energy instead of taking it away.

You can move in a way that makes your lungs and heart feel full.)

You are capable of so many incredible things.

And when you need to rest, then rest.

And when you need to be still, you can be still.

And when it's over, it can be over.

But you should know that you can move, when you want to.

If you want to.

No matter what moving looks like to you. Maybe just a finger. Maybe a mile.

And you are loved and accepted, no matter what.

My best,

17 February 2026