Slowing down looks like holding space for myself. It looks like honouring the fact that I made a massive breakthrough and that I deserve to rest. It looks like slowing down and attending to my own needs. It looks like sitting at a picnic table with the cool undertones of a September breeze, listening to the gentle hum of jazz and crashing waves. It looks like learning to listen to my body, to trust that I know what is best for me. Slowing down is holding the complexity of sitting with hope, fear, gratitude, and sadness.
I am sitting with a quiet knowing, allowing myself to feel that I am worthy of being supported. I am sad for my inner child, always so afraid to make a mistake. Always trying to keep the peace, existing in constant survival mode. I am sad that I have let this happen to her.
I am doing this afraid.
I am doing this for her.
I am doing this for our future.
I was approaching the ledge, and it made me open my eyes. I realized how much joy I had deprived myself of, how much I would steal from that terrified little girl if I didn’t fix this for her. How much more joy I would rob myself of?
Man, the days after a breakthrough are raw. Being intentional means slowing down enough to listen to what I have to say. Not for forced growth, but from genuine curiosity. I want to learn what feels right. I want to discover my needs and learn how to fill them. Right now, I need rest. Now that I have gotten past the hardest part, asking for help, I have the support I need to continue moving in the right direction. I can finally let myself rest.
Right now, I’m in a sacred space of integration. This moment is about giving myself permission to feel fully, to witness myself, and to slowly nurture the parts of me that have been surviving instead of living. This moment feels like basking in the sun on a warm summer day, when the light soaks deep into your skin. The longer you sit in that feeling, the deeper your tan.
Growth is not linear. It is ugly and messy at times. It is challenging your beliefs. It is holding yourself accountable. It is giving yourself grace if you stumble. It is choosing kindness for yourself.
As I sit here, I remind myself that even small steps, taken with care, are enough.
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