Category: At Home in My Body

You can love someone and still walk away.You can miss them and know they weren’t good for you.You can be healing and still have days where everything hurts. We’re not built for neat, black-and-white stories. Our brains, our bodies, our lives—they’re made of complexity. And it’s okay to feel conflicted. It’s okay to hold two…

Let’s breathe this in together. Your value does not come from how much you give, how much you sacrifice, or how well you meet everyone else’s needs. That people-pleasing voice inside—the one that says “I’ll only be loved if I help, fix, stay quiet, or put others first”—is not your truth. It’s a survival strategy….

Let’s sit with this one slowly, like a warm cup of tea you sip when the world feels too loud. “I deserve to take up space.” That means: you have the right to exist fully—with all your feelings, thoughts, needs, and dreams. You don’t have to make yourself smaller so others feel more comfortable. You…

Let’s start right here – where most of our shame lives – in our bodies. Have you ever been called “too sensitive,” “too emotional,” “too needy,” or felt like you had to shrink yourself to be loved? Maybe people made you feel guilty for needing comfort, reassurance, affection, time, or help. Maybe you were told…

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that needing rest made us weak. That wanting beauty made us shallow. That craving gentleness made us needy. That asking for care made us a burden. So we hardened. We got louder, faster, busier. We learned to survive in a world that praised exhaustion and self-denial. And…

The world trains us to believe that softness is a reward. That we can only be gentle after we’ve achieved enough, proven enough, survived enough. That femininity—whatever that means for each of us—is some faraway version of ourselves we have to claw our way back to. But if you pause… if you breathe… nature reminds…

Sometimes, out of nowhere, a memory will rise. A version of you before all the heaviness. Before the survival mode. Before the walls you didn’t even know you were building. Maybe she laughed easier. Maybe she believed people quicker. Maybe she danced without needing a reason. Maybe she didn’t carry so much. And maybe now……

We’ve been fed this strange lie that rest is a reward. That it’s something you earn only after exhaustion. That rest is for the weak, the unmotivated, the unambitious. And so we push ourselves past tired, past depletion, past the whispers of our bodies asking us to slow down. But rest is not the enemy….

Somewhere along the way, being strong turned into being isolated. Carrying it all became the badge. And asking for help? That somehow felt like weakness. Like failure. Like we’d disappointed some invisible standard. But here’s the truth—being able to do it all doesn’t mean you’re supposed to. You weren’t designed to hold the weight of…