day three: writing ritual

on returning

today’s prompt: what does returning mean to you?

there have been many seasons in my life where i felt far from myself. seasons where i felt disconnected. untethered. adrift in this fog of too damn much.

i didn’t know then that my disconnection was a form of self-protection. it was a response to a world that asked too much of me and gave me very little space to feel it all.

because of my anxious-avoidant attachment style (which has probably explained more about myself than i would have liked to know), i learned to disconnect from my own feelings. i learned how to hide the discomfort when they would arise. i learned how to pretend that everything was okay. that i was okay.

but existing in autopilot didn’t save me. it couldn’t. it only left me feeling more lost.

the sacred return began when i realized: it is safe to feel. not easy but safe. and sometimes, safe is what we need before we can even think about diving into the deep of our healing.

my meditation practice. my writing practice. my very intentional and necessary “time to myself” practice. my mala-making practice have become my soft places to land. these are the rituals that allow me return to myself. they remind me that coming home is not a full arrival but a practice. a devotion. a choosing.

writing, especially, has always met me where i am. it doesn’t ask me to be ready. it just asks me to show up. it has given me language when i had none. it has served as a mirror when i needed the deepest and most sacred parts of myself reflected back to me. it has been the thing that has helped keep me together when i felt like i was unraveling.

returning isn’t always pretty. sometimes it looks like sitting in the mess and saying, "okay, this too." sometimes it means crying through a heart dump in my journal. sometimes it means opening my palms and whispering and remembering, "i’m still here."

i return to the page, often. not to fix anything but to be with what’s here. to listen. to offer my presence. to remind myself: i am with you. i am not leaving.

i used to think returning meant that i had lost my way. but now i know: returning is a form of love and a sacred form of remembering.

when i drift, as we all do, i no longer panic. i gather my breath. i gather my pen. i gather my courage. and i begin again.

every return is a reclamation. every return is a reminder:

i am not too far gone.
i am not too late.
i am allowed to begin again.

and THAT is sacred.

writing lesson: start where you are

we were all born with a relationship to language. before we knew how to craft full sentences, we knew how to name our world. as children, we pointed at things and called them by name: tree, moon, mama, sky. there was power in that. ownership. wonder.

but somewhere along the way, many of us started to lose that ease.
we learned to second-guess.
we learned to edit while we wrote.
we learned to shrink our language into what felt acceptable. presentable. or good enough.

writing became something performative. something to get right. rather than something to feel through.

today, i want to invite you back to the earliest relationship you had with words: curiosity. honesty. and directness.

you don’t need to know exactly where your piece is going before you begin. where you are right now is enough.

if you feel blocked, start with something simple:
what’s directly in front of you?
what’s the first thought in your mind?
what’s the sensation sitting in your chest right now?

allow the words move from there.

most of all, remember:
writing is about releasing the things that are already waiting within you. writing gives us permission to start where we are.

and right here. right now is the perfect place to begin.

additional writing prompts

1. what does "home" feel like not as a place but as a sensation in your body?

2. title your piece: “the map of my return” and let the page become your roadmap home.

3. what’s a memory of a time you felt fully like yourself? describe it in as much sensory detail as possible.

4. begin each line with "i am returning to..."

5. weave the following line into a poem: “and still, i come back…”

   happy day three of writing. i hope these prompts. i hope the reflection. i hope the writing lesson serve you in the deepest way. share with me, how are the prompts landing in your body today?