Here's how I found my own way home.
My story.
Earlier this year I came close to coming undone. Sleep stopped. Hair fell out. The fight in my body would not turn off.
So I stopped. I got quiet. I got honest, with myself first, then my family, my friends, the people I trusted. I stopped hiding my suffering and let them love me through it.
Breathwork became my anchor. I found relief in the sound of soothing music and guided relaxation meditations, timed with everything else. I got intentional about the oils I already loved, using them with purpose now instead of occasionally. As soon as the sun set, the lights went off and the candles came out. I walked in nature every free moment I had. I journaled until I had filled a notebook in six weeks. I read a paragraph from a book each morning. Then I sat for five minutes, then fifteen. Then yoga. The phone went on Do Not Disturb at eight.
The pieces that brought me back were small, and they were repeated. I do this work now because I know how detached someone can feel from themselves, and I know what brings them back.
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