Jordan Beaven

Suns out… jumpers off for the first time this year.

And honestly? That alone felt like a personality trait today.

Sitting outside on a bank holiday Monday, feeling the sun on my skin, just felt… different.

Not in a dramatic, life-changing way — just in that quiet, grounding kind of way where your body goes, oh… this is nice.

The warmth felt like a comforting hug.

A gentle reminder that brighter days are ahead.

That we made it out the other side of winter.

And that no matter how heavy life feels, the sun will still rise again tomorrow.

For a moment, everything felt peaceful.

And I let myself sit in that.

No overthinking. No analysing. Just… existing.

The Bit You Don’t See

Because as much as this moment looked calm, and it was, it’s not the full picture.

This photo doesn’t show the swollen eyes.

The high pressure around my brain.

The tinnitus ringing constantly in my ears like it’s got a personal vendetta.

It doesn’t show the headaches.

The pain in my legs.

The lack of sensation in parts of my body that remind me things still aren’t right.

It doesn’t show someone who is homeless.

Someone who has lost everything they worked for.

Someone who has had to fight harder than they ever should have, just to get to a point where their body can start living again.

And it definitely doesn’t show the quiet tears.

The ones that come out of nowhere when grief creeps in for a life I can no longer have.

That part doesn’t make it into the photo.

But This Part Does

What it does show… is a moment.

A moment out of the ward.

Fresh air.

Happy that Friends are visiting.

A dog making a guest appearance (honestly, main character energy from the dog, picture only of me).

There were giggles.

Cuddles.

And for a little while, I felt like me again.

Not the hospital version.

Not the survival version.

Just… me.

Now The Unexpected Bit

Something that really stayed with me today was being told I “look well.”

And for once… I didn’t instantly reject it.

Because the last time they saw me, I was at rock bottom again.

So hearing that now — and actually letting it land — felt different.

That’s the second time I’ve heard it this week.

And it’s made me pause and think…

Maybe I am doing better than I give myself credit for.

Which feels mildly suspicious, I won’t lie.

But also… kind of nice.

What I’m Learning

I think what I’m starting to realise is this:

Healing isn’t always loud.

It doesn’t always feel like progress when you’re in it.

Sometimes it looks like sitting in the sun, still carrying everything you’ve been through…

but being able to feel a moment of peace anyway.

Sometimes it’s letting yourself laugh, even when things are still hard.

Sometimes it’s being seen by other people before you can fully see it yourself.

And sometimes, it’s just staying.

My Final Thoughts

I’m not where I want to be yet.

But I’m not where I was either.

And maybe that’s what progress really looks like.

Not big, dramatic changes.

Not sudden breakthroughs.

Just moments like this

sitting in the sun, feeling everything at once…

and still choosing to be here.

(And if nothing else… at least the jumpers are off for a few months)