Category: At Home in My Body

You didn’t fail at strength. You simply outgrew the version of you that only knew how to fight. That version of you—the one who hustled, pushed, braced, fought through every storm with clenched fists and tired eyes—she didn’t fail. She did exactly what she needed to do to get you here. She protected you. She…

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be held. To want rest. To want to be cared for. I think somewhere along the way, we were taught that needing these things made us weak—or worse, needy. That to be strong meant to always stand on our own. To want softness made us childish. To crave rest…

You’ve probably been called too intense. Too emotional. Too loud. Too sensitive. Too ambitious. Too honest. Too complicated. Too… much. And for a long time, you believed it. You believed that you needed to shrink, to filter yourself, to water down your magic just to be tolerated. You learned to speak softer, feel less, dream…

There’s a version of you from long ago—before the heartbreaks, before the pressure, before you had to toughen up just to survive. A version that laughed freely, cried without shame, trusted without fear, and loved without needing proof first. That softness wasn’t weakness. It was your truest self, before the world told you to be…

Somewhere along the way, many of us were taught to earn our rest. To justify our softness. To explain why we’re tired, why we need space, why we can’t keep holding it all anymore. We learned to shrink our needs or dress them up in apology, because just wanting peace felt selfish, lazy, or too…

After years of armour, I didn’t realise how tense I had become. Not just in my shoulders or jaw or back—but in my whole being. I was holding everything. Holding myself together. Holding back tears. Holding in anger. Holding my breath through life like I was waiting for permission to finally exhale. I had lived…

When you feel safe, your heart stops shaking. There’s a version of me that existed only in survival. She knew how to anticipate everyone’s needs. She knew how to smile through discomfort. She knew how to keep the peace, even when everything inside her was screaming. That version of me was sharp, careful, tired. But…

Softness isn’t weakness—it’s the quiet strength that comes from knowing who you are beyond the fight for survival. After years of pushing hard, being soft again feels like coming home. Choosing softness means giving yourself permission to feel deeply, to rest, and to open your heart even if it’s scary. It’s about embracing vulnerability as…

There’s freedom in letting go of the need to prove anything—to stop wearing the armor built for survival. When the masks come off, what’s left is raw, real, and beautifully human. This truth is powerful: the more you accept who you are beneath all the defenses, the lighter your spirit becomes. You don’t have to…