Author: Julie Githiri

when loves arrives at the wrong time

by Julie Githiri

There is a particular kind of love that does not announce itself loudly.

It arrives mid-life. Mid-vow. Mid-responsibility.It arrives when the architecture of one’s life is already built.And yet something in the body recognises it.As a psychotherapist, I have learned that attachment does not always respect timing.

The nervous system does not consult legal contracts. It responds to safety, resonance, attunement.And as a woman, I have come to understand how destabilising and illuminating that can be.

We like love stories clean.

Morally simple.

Socially sanctioned.

But real life rarely offers such symmetry.In many cultures, we are taught that love must follow order:

meet

marry 

build.  

When it does not, we reach for shame before we reach for understanding.Yet what if some loves are not interruptions but awakenings?

Awakenings are seemingly uninvited.

They arrive like a forehead kiss, tender lips on a cold winter’s day, welcome, warm, hungry for connection.An awakening consumes your daily thoughts, filling them with stories of new beginnings.

A new friendship that lands on solid ground, ready to skip and bound toward future promise.

Love questions your emotions.

Love questions your stability.

Love simply loves.

What if this new space, this uncharted map, has no path?To step in without a map can feel terrifying.An uncertainty that touches your heartbeat, captures your breath, and weighs heavy with anticipation.

But this pace, this hunger for love, comes from a void that is also a vessel a space waiting to be filled with attention, tenderness, and recognition.

To awaken is to step into both wonder and fear, to meet the unknown with curiosity, and to allow yourself to feel fully even when the future is unclear.

It is in this uncharted space that growth happens.

It is here that love teaches, challenges, and transforms.

with warmth

Jules

Hello world!

by Julie Githiri

My journey to writing has been a bumpy one,  marked by multiple stop-starts, long silences, and quiet returns.

It began in childhood, with an overly creative imagination and a tendency to drift into inner worlds. Words became companions early on. Poetry followed soon after, especially in the throes of early teenage love, when everything felt heightened, dramatic, and tender.

Life, as it does, moved forward.

There were decades of study. Professional training. Clinical rooms. Real stories. Real people. Real consequences. The romantic intensity of youth gave way to the layered realities of adulthood.

And yet — the instinct to write never disappeared.

It simply waited.

Now, with experience under my belt, with professional depth and lived understanding, it feels time to return to the page — not as the girl in love with love, but as the woman and professional who understands its complexity.

This is not a beginning from scratch.
It is a continuation.

A returning.

And perhaps, finally, a settling into voice.