"I feel stuck in my relationship with myself, somewhere in the middle of worthiness and unworthiness, love and hate, the middle of the spectrum which sometimes dwindles either way. There sure is improvement from the extremes, but being in the centre of it is more tricky. The tears are a little less intense, so is the lightness past them, the drama is less, hence a little boredom, the knowing of what isn't acceptable is there, but the knowledge of what all could I desire isn't, forgiveness for others is there, forgiveness for self is still on. Self sabotaging acts are no more there, but the recurring thoughts about it are. Who knew self work wouldn't be as easy as they tell you in books?" 

From "dustbinjournal" on Instagram

Although this isn't a popular poem from a well-known poet, it is something that I currently relate to a lot. We don't really talk about "being stuck in the middle;" the gray area after pain and change but before self-love and contentness. It's when you are almost reaching the finishing line, except you haven't gotten there yet because you are taking baby steps.

This poem talks about the slow process of healing. But reminds me that baby steps is still steps forward.