What If?

Written By Southern Peanut

Today I realized something uncomfortable:

Sometimes spiraling feels productive.

You convince yourself you’re connecting dots, finding answers, solving mysteries. But if you aren’t careful, grief will put on a detective badge and have you rebuilding entire timelines in your head.

I started that “productive” spiral today once I processed recently received information and quickly pulled out my investigator hat, switching from bare feet to heels in a matter of seconds.

I started asking myself: What if I missed something? What if someone played on both our wounds? What if I spent years trying to heal while unknowingly throwing gasoline on a smoldering fire?

What if she was too?

What if we both were?

What if we unknowingly set each other on fire?

What if we never get to talk about it?

Then something transformative happened. As the tears formed, I was snapped back into reality faster than a girl trying to get out of the house for a Friday night football game before doing the dishes… because apparently life said, “Not so fast, little lady.” 😂

Deep reflection can give us truth, accountability, self awareness, and acceptance.

What it cannot give us is another person’s thoughts.

Without a conversation, without truth from both sides, I realized I was entering dangerous territory.

Territory that landed me in full justification mode and I no longer live in a place where I pretend to know what the other person was thinking when they don’t show up at the table.

Not that a meal had been missed. Not that an opportunity wasn’t given. Not that I wish to go back in time. I do not.

Not because I miss the chaos. Not because I suddenly forgot the hurt.

Because beneath all the questions, all the theories, all the “what ifs,” and the realization that I have continued to show up, look alert, and do my best to keep my mouth shut… this wasn’t a “what if” moment.

This was an “it’s time to unpause the heartbreak and feel” moment.

The tears.

The grief.

The reality that I survived.

Not pretty. Not graceful. Not all put together.

But I survived.

Healing for me doesn’t necessarily mean becoming someone new.

Sometimes healing is slowly finding your way back to the version of yourself that still knows the road to the island, rolls the windows down, turns the radio up, and reminds you who you were before survival became your full time job.

Today I didn’t solve the mystery.

But I did stop the spiral.

I cried the tears.

I allowed myself to recognize that the girl I was, am, and will be are all allowed to feel.

And for now, that’s enough.

Southern Peanut

Southern Peanut

Hey y’all, come on in.

Grab a seat where you can. Coffee or tea?

I was born during hurricane season on the Gulf Coast, and somewhere along the way I realized that just because I came into this world fighting to survive didn’t mean I had to spend my whole life fighting just to live.

Half Southern grit. Half Northern fire.

From the front porch of a 100-year-old home on the Gulf Coast, Southern Peanut writes with grit, fire, comedy, tragedy, and what it means to face all of it while slowly eroding yourself in the process.

I never gave up on me, and I’ll never give up on you.

On my porch the coffee is hot, the tea is cold, the radio is always playing, the words are genuine, the work is honest, respect is mutual, boundaries matter, and we leave the judging to Jesus.

So, have a seat and stay awhile. You’re safe here. 🌾☕📻🌩️

https://southernpeanut.com/
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The Hallway Moment