Beautiful Chaos…

It’s morning here… but somewhere else, it’s night.

Funny how that works—sunrise for one person, sunset for another.

So wherever you are, hello, goodnight, and welcome to the chaos.

This post? It’s about growing, breaking, rebuilding—and, let’s be honest, barely holding it together some days.

Right now, I’m in the middle of a storm.

Not the cute, romantic, kiss-in-the-rain kind.

The kind that flips your world upside down, spills your coffee, and ruins your blowout.

People I love are hurting. Some are gone. And I kept asking the classic question:

“Why me?”

Cue dramatic sigh and overthinking spiral.

But lately? Something shifted.

Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was divine sarcasm.

Either way, I started asking:

“Why not me?”

I mean—someone has to survive this plot twist. Might as well be me.

I’ve realized something very grown-up (and I hate it):

The older you get, the more complicated everything becomes.

Grief gets heavier. People disappoint you in more creative ways.

And dreams? They don’t come Amazon Prime. You earn them. Slow. Messy. One setback at a time.

And somehow—somehow—I feel God.

Not in booming voices or burning bushes, but in tiny, weirdly timed moments.

A deep breath. A laugh I wasn’t expecting. A friend texting, “You good?” right when I’m absolutely not.

That’s what faith looks like now.

Not a perfect prayer—but showing up with mascara-streaked cheeks and still saying, “I’m here.”

Let’s be real:

Every successful person you’ve ever admired?

They’ve had their hearts ripped out, thrown against a wall, and still showed up to brunch like nothing happened.

I’ve lost friends.

Some drifted away like background music. Others left like fireworks—loud, messy, and slightly traumatic.

Some are still here, fighting battles I can’t fix.

And when someone tells you your loved one might die?

You don’t “find perspective.”

You get perspective—delivered express. No signature required.

So here’s what I’ve decided:

I’m going to keep going. Even if I trip. Even if I roll my eyes the whole way there.

And if you are in your own personal storm?

Listen closely:

You’ll make it through.

Not because you’re perfect.

Not because you’ve got it all figured out.

But because this battle was assigned to you—and only you can carry it with that particular brand of chaotic grace.

Also:

Eat something. Something that didn’t come from a vending machine.

Send the text. Take the nap. Delete the app.

Tiny victories count, too.

As for the future?

Forget writing a letter to your future self.

Just become the person you used to daydream about during boring classes or bad dates.

Remember that person?

The one with the plans and the playlist and the spark?

Yeah. Be them.

In sneakers or stilettos. Alone or in good company.

You’re still becoming.

And in the middle of all this beautiful chaos,

you’re doing better than you think.

Xoxo,

Victoria Shirin