What Went Well
She kept waiting for the part where something went wrong. It never arrived.
She noticed it almost by accident.
There were no markers for it. No moment where she thought, this is the part I’ll remember. The day didn’t announce itself as successful or meaningful. It simply moved along.
Things happened. Some were expected. Some weren’t. Nothing rose to the level of a problem that needed solving.
Later, when she tried to recall the day, she kept waiting for the part where something went wrong. A tension. A misstep. A place where she should have done better or noticed sooner.
But it didn’t arrive.
What stood out instead was how little effort it took to be there.
How conversations didn’t require performance.
How her body didn’t brace before responding.
She realized she hadn’t been monitoring herself.
Hadn’t been adjusting or correcting.
Hadn’t been watching the day from a slight distance, ready to intervene.
When she finally named it—what went well—it felt almost misleading.
As if something remarkable must have occurred.
But nothing remarkable had.
There was just the quiet absence of strain.
And the strange, gentle relief of noticing that this, too, counted.