Still Here 001
Beloved,
Writing to you from recovery.
I've learned something in this season that feels worth sharing: I can do hard things. With confidence, with help, with spilling, with pain, even. I can do the thing I fear the most and come out better for it.
Still Here means something specific to me right now. In the face of increasing fascism, we are still here. Still creating. Still existing. Still breathing. Multiplying. And it's also personal. A nod to 20 years of chronic illness and a surgery that was anything but simple. If we are still here, that means change is possible. That love is possible. That care is possible.
Almost three months out, I am walking further and standing up straighter. My surgeon said, “She's safe now”, and I feel that in my body. Somatically. That is not a small thing.
I've been writing. And yearning. And praying.
I'm coming back to this work with more collaboration and creativity than I've carried in a while. For a long time, it's been just me handling the business of it. But something else is calling now. And I'm answering.
SORH isn't going anywhere. It's just living under a bigger roof now: adriamoses.com is the new home and this newsletter, Still Here, is how I'll show up in your inbox every month.
I'm glad you're still here too.
Adria
adria moses · writing
The Letters
Essays on the body, healing, survival, and coming home to yourself. Written from inside the work, not above it.
The monthly column
Still Here
Once a month, a letter from the ongoing work of staying. Still creating, still healing, still building. A space that will one day hold other voices too.
Next letter coming soon"If we are still here, that means change is possible. That love is possible. That care is possible."
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