Ever Forward

There's no going back (and that's okay)

Now that I’m writing again, I’m reading again too.

My favorite time to read is on my patio with a steaming cup of coffee early on a Saturday or Sunday morning, before the day gets away.

If forced to choose, I prefer Sundays. The peace of my suburban neighborhood lasts a little longer. The hum of lawn mowers, the crack of trimmers, and the roar of blowers start later. The stillness lingers. Chattering House Sparrows, Northern Flickers, and Chimney Swifts become a kind of soundtrack, like the low murmur of regulars in a diner solving the world’s problems over bacon and eggs.

I’ve come to cherish this time. Lately it’s the only time my mind is truly distracted from the pull of stress and overthinking.

Even when I’m reading memoirs about trauma and healing, memories surface — some familiar, some newly unlocked — yet somehow it still soothes, even as it disturbs.

There’s a comfort in following a journey, whether vastly different or eerily similar to your own. As an author reflects, connections are drawn, revelations are made, and the work you’re doing begins to take hold. It’s like getting a bonus therapy session each week.

One recent Sunday, I continued reading What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo, and passage after passage resonated. Some echoed things I’ve been working through with my therapist and I snapped photos to share with her later. It dawned on me that I wasn’t just reading; I was processing.

After an hour, I was ready to put the book down, but not to start the day. I wasn’t ready to step back into the world. So I opened TikTok and stumbled onto a video from funny.therapist, with a message I didn’t know how much I needed to hear.

“Resilience is not bouncing back. It’s moving forward.”

“You are not a rubber band,” she continued. “We’re not here to snap back after life’s hardships. We’re human beings. We’re growing, we’re evolving, and learning.”

That hit.

It reminded me of something someone said during a particularly challenging season: “I just want the old Amy back.”

At first, I agreed. “I do, too.”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I don’t know who that is. I am me, as I am, in this moment. There is no other me.

So when funny.therapist added, “It’s an important reframing, especially in a world that tends to be obsessed with getting back to normal, whatever that is,” I felt a wave of validation wash over me.

“You do not have to bounce back anywhere. Keep moving on. Keep moving forward.”

Hearing that reminded me of a mantra I repeat to myself when going through a challenging time: Ever forward.

It felt like the exact message the morning had been building toward, like the universe answering a distress call I didn’t know I’d made. The book passages and the TikTok video were exactly what I needed as I teetered on the edge of the abyss that calls to me when things go sideways.

I’d been doubting myself so deeply. “How do I get back to old Amy?” I’d asked myself over and over.

funny.therapist offered the answer: “There is no going back to who we were before. The question becomes, how do we move forward with more wisdom, more depth, more wholeness?”

This is the journey—the path of endless branches of divergence, leading to the next version of you.

So no, there is no getting back to the “old Amy”. She’s a rest stop in the rearview. And the Amy who heard that? She’s back there too, and that’s okay. I can’t wait to discover the next iteration of me.

How do I find her, you may wonder? One day at a time, which is really the only way progress happens. Day by day, I focus on the quote written on the whiteboard on my fridge:

Do better today than you did yesterday.

If yesterday was good, today can be even better. If it wasn’t, today is another chance.

Just keep moving forward.

Ever forward, ever forward, ever forward.