Category: At Home in My Body

After a painful ending—whether it’s a divorce, a breakup, or a heartbreak that took something deep from you—it’s easy to feel like you have to come back perfect. Like love will only find you again if you’ve cleaned up every mess, erased every scar, and stitched yourself up without a seam showing. But that’s not…

So many of us carry around parts of our past like they’re something to hide. We try to cover up the messy chapters—the ones with heartbreak, abuse, trauma, mistakes, or things we were forced into. The shame creeps in when we think we’re “less than” because of what happened. But that shame isn’t the truth….

There’s a quiet kind of courage in admitting you still want love. Especially after heartbreak. Especially after betrayal, or loneliness, or years of pretending you didn’t need it anymore. Sometimes just whispering the words—“I still want to be loved”—feels like standing naked in the cold. But here’s the truth: wanting love doesn’t make you needy….

Today I watched a movie that did something rare—it calmed my nervous system. Boyhood (2014). A slow, grounded film that follows the life of a boy named Mason from age six to the time he joins college. No fantasy, no dramatic music, no violent plot twists or adrenaline-driven scenes. Just ordinary life, unfolding gently and…

Today I watched a movie that did something rare—it calmed my nervous system. Boyhood (2014). A slow, grounded film that follows the life of a boy named Mason from age six to the time he joins college. No fantasy, no dramatic music, no violent plot twists or adrenaline-driven scenes. Just ordinary life, unfolding gently and…

Sometimes, life asks us to let go of things we once held tightly—dreams, relationships, routines, even parts of ourselves we thought we’d never lose. It can feel like failure, like we’ve done something wrong or missed the mark. But nature tells a different story. In the natural world, pruning isn’t a punishment. It’s a process….

No tree shoots up in a day. It starts as a seed, tiny and unseen. Then it roots itself. Quietly. Patiently. It doesn’t rush, but it doesn’t stop either. Each drop of rain, every hour of sun, every breeze that passes—it takes it all in. And one day, without even realizing, it’s grown strong and…

I used to think I didn’t like physical touch. For years, I associated it with discomfort, with feeling unsafe, with wanting to shrink away. I told myself I just wasn’t the kind of woman who craved closeness. I started to believe that something in me had gone cold. But yesterday, I had my hair washed…