Mary Monoky writes about the Long Middle —
the quiet, uncertain stretch of life that follows crisis, illness, or upheaval,
when the old life has ended
and the new one hasn’t quite taken shape yet.

Drawing on more than twenty-five years of lived experience with illness,
along with a background in social work,
Mary brings a grounded, human lens to stories often flattened by medical language or inspirational framing.

Her work is less interested in recovery arcs
than in what it actually feels like to live inside change.

After outliving a season of hospice,
the years that followed reshaped her understanding of strength, surrender,
and the slow, ordinary work of building a life that can be inhabited again.

That understanding runs through everything she writes —
not as testimony,
but as orientation.

Mary’s work blends personal narrative, presence, and narrative medicine.
She invites readers into a truer account of healing:
not the triumphant version we’re encouraged to admire,
but the uneven, ongoing return to self
that happens one ordinary day at a time.

Her purpose is simple:
to offer language, clarity, and companionship
to those navigating the Long Middle.

Her writing has appeared in Brevity Blog,
and she is currently completing Navigating the Long Middle: Life After Disruption —
a narrative nonfiction guide shaped by the Compass Points Framework
for life after everything changes.

Mary’s stories don’t rush toward answers.
They stay with the moment — the body in it, the memory it carries, the meaning that begins to form quietly around the edges.

She writes from inside the days when life doesn’t “return,”
but slowly rearranges itself.

From the body’s long memory after illness.
From the uneven work of becoming someone again.
From the small, ordinary acts that keep a person present when staying upright takes everything they have.

Readers often describe her work as a hand on the shoulder —
a steady, companionable presence for the days when simply staying is the work.

What I Write About

Storyteller of the Long Middle

Some doors open outward. This one opens in.
Inside is a small, private space to write a few words and set something down for a moment

(Not monitored. Not for emergencies.)

Fun fact: Mary coined the phrase the Long Middle for that part of life where you’re officially “okay,”
but still standing in the doorway, wondering who just walked back in.

I’m Mary Monoky

I write about what happens after life changes in ways you didn’t choose —
when the old map stops working and the new one hasn’t appeared yet.

Much of my work grows out of living with illness. But I don’t write about diagnoses or recovery stories.
I write about the quieter things: identity, belonging, the way relationships shift, and the small, ordinary moments that help a person feel like themselves again.

For many years, my life moved in and out of waiting rooms, phone calls, and long stretches of uncertainty.
During that time, I learned that the hardest parts weren’t always physical.
They were the subtle ones — the way a life can narrow, or tilt, or begin to feel unfamiliar even while it keeps going.

Writing became a place where I could tell the truth about that experience without needing to fix it.

I don’t write to motivate or instruct.
I write to notice what’s often left unsaid — the thoughts people carry quietly, the feelings that don’t fit neatly into before-and-after stories.

On this site, you’ll find personal essays, short reflections, and small field notes from inside everyday life.
Some are quiet. Some carry humor. All are written from the middle of things, not the far side of them.

If you’ve ever felt yourself living between chapters —
not who you were, not yet who you’ll become —
you’re in the right place.

Most days, you’ll find me paying attention to small things:
light through a window, a good cup of tea,
the way a moment settles after it passes.