Maybe Returning Counts, Too

It’s been a while since I’ve written one of these.

And normally, that would make me feel like I needed to explain where I’ve been.

I’ve noticed this pattern in myself: when I have energy and inspiration...

I want to do ALL THE THINGS....

Write the emails. Create the posts.

Plan the offerings.

Hold the spaces.

Then life gets full.

I have a full-time job. I’m raising two kids. I’m a wife. I’m a friend.

I’m navigating my own relationships, nervous system, energy, growth and all of the ordinary things that come with being human.

My capacity changes.

I get quiet.

And when the energy eventually comes back, instead of simply letting myself begin again, there’s often this little voice:

But what if you disappear again?

Maybe you know that voice, too.

Lately, I’ve been realizing how often I make my capacity mean something about me.

If I have energy, I’m doing well.

If I don’t, I’m falling behind.

If I’m consistent, I’m committed.

If I step away, I’ve somehow failed.

But I’m beginning to wonder:

What if returning counts, too?

Over the past few months, I’ve been paying more attention to what actually helps me return to myself.

Sometimes it’s surprisingly simple.

Moving my body for ten minutes.

Dancing.

Taking a shower.

Going outside.

Breathing.

Choosing something that brings me joy instead of something else I need to accomplish.

These things don’t necessarily change everything happening around me.

But something changes in me.

I feel more present.

More grounded.

More like myself.

And slowly, I’m realizing that taking care of myself doesn’t have to be another project designed to fix me.

It can be a commitment to the woman who is actually living this life.

Mental.

Physical.

Emotional.

Spiritual.

Not because she needs to become someone else.

Because she deserves to experience the life she already has.

And there’s another layer to this that I’m actively navigating...

For a long time, I think I’ve believed I needed to get to the other side of something before I could share it.

Learn the lesson.

Practice it.

Embody it.

Tie it up beautifully.

Then talk about it.

But I'm realizing that if I wait until I've perfectly embodied everything I'm learning, I might never say anything at all.

Because I'm human...

I still push past my capacity sometimes.

I still get overwhelmed.

I still judge myself.

I still forget the very things I know help me.

And then I remember...

I move.

I breathe.

I go outside.

I choose joy.

I return.

Maybe I don't need to stand on the other side saying, “I figured it out.”

Maybe I can stand beside you and say:

“I’m noticing this in myself. Are you noticing it, too?”

So maybe this is simply my return.

I'm still here.

Heartfelt Embodiment is still here.

My desire to hold spaces for women to breathe, move, feel and reconnect with themselves is still here.

And I'm learning that quieter seasons don't erase what I've created.

I don't need to promise that I'll never get quiet again.

I don't need to turn today's inspiration into an expectation that I must constantly produce.

I can honor my capacity.

I can leave room for my very full human life.

And when I have something to share, I can share it.

Maybe you need that permission, too.

You don't have to have it all figured out.

You don't have to maintain the same capacity in every season.

You don't have to turn every return into a promise that you'll never wander away again.

Maybe returning counts, too.

Maybe returning is the practice.

So today, I'm here.

And I'm learning to trust that when life asks me to step away, I know how to find my way back.

Again and again.

With love,

Jess

Heartfelt Embodiment