At some point, you got so good at showing up for everyone else that you forgot what it felt like to show up for you.
You didn’t mean to leave yourself behind.
It just happened slowly.
One obligation at a time.
One “I’m fine” too many.
One forgotten dream, one buried need, one swallowed truth.
But she’s still in there—the you before the overwhelm.
The you before the burnout.
The you before you stopped asking, What do I need?
This isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about remembering.
It’s about noticing what makes you breath slow and your shoulders drop.
It’s about lighting the candle even when no one else will see it.
It’s about choosing softness even when you’ve been hardened by life.
It’s about walking yourself home.
Piece by piece.
Memory by memory.
Ritual by ritual.
This is not the kind of journey that’s rushed.
It’s the kind where you move slowly enough to hear your own heartbeat again.
So today, ask gently:
What did I used to love, before I forgot myself?
What part of me is asking to be remembered?
And then—do one small thing to welcome her back.
Play that song.
Take that nap.
Write that page.
Say that no.
Say that yes.
Taking Just a Moment:
Find an old photo of yourself—one where your eyes were soft and your smile was real.
Look at her. Really look.
Whisper: “I’m coming back for you.”
Because you are.
And she’s been waiting.
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