When the Head Knows but the Heart Isn’t There Yet

Lately I’ve been walking around with this strange split inside me. I can understand my stuck points. I can see exactly how certain patterns don’t serve me anymore. I can break them down, explain them, and even trace where they came from.

And yet… I still feel what I feel.

Even when I don’t want to.

Even when I wish I could just be “normal.”

Group therapy gave me a quote this week that put a name to the tension:

“Resistance is when we believe something, but the outcome doesn’t meet our expectations.”

That hit like a hammer.

Because that’s exactly the gap I’m living in — the space where insight and emotion don’t line up. Where I know better, but I don’t feel better. Where growth feels like climbing uphill with my own shadow pulling on my bootlaces.

A Shift in Symbols

My Artist Hour drawings have started to change, and I think they’re telling the truth before I can. I’m sketching fewer symbols from Hawaii and more from Texas. It wasn’t intentional — it just… happened.

Part of me is already drifting toward retirement next year, toward going back home, toward whatever life looks like after the military. And another part of me isn’t ready at all.

There’s pride.

There’s grief.

There’s relief.

There’s fear.

There’s excitement.

There’s loss.

Conflicting emotions all showing up at the same time, all demanding to be felt.

One of the pieces I drew was a traditional swallow carrying a Texas bluebonnet — simple, clean, hopeful, and pointed straight toward home.

And then there’s the other piece:

A skull shaped like a grenade, a rose beneath it, and the caption:

“I’m fragile!

Not like a flower…

More like a grenade…

Still, handle with care.”

That’s where I really am.

Not broken — just dangerous when shaken.

Not delicate — but not invincible either.

A mix of beauty and volatility.

A mix of things ending and things beginning.

A Season of Transition

Understanding the path forward doesn’t magically clear the debris inside. Knowing what needs to change doesn’t guarantee the feelings will cooperate. But I’m learning that this in-between space — the uncomfortable, chaotic, conflicting middle — is where real growth happens.

Sometimes the art speaks first.

Sometimes the feelings show up loud and messy.

And sometimes the head has to wait patiently for the heart to catch up.

I’m somewhere in that process right now.

And maybe that’s okay.

 

If you would like me to put into ink or art what you can’t find words for, reach out to me at Honor and Ink and let me know how I can help.