10/15/2026
☝️ For my friends who prefer to swipe through the slides.
👇 For my friends who prefer to read the caption.
Recently, I found something I wrote on November 26, 2024.
A collection of words and fragments I called:
Breaking the Glass.
Nearly two years later, I remembered what those words meant to me.
Breaking the glass was not about escaping.
It was about entering.
Entering a space that allowed me to receive and release. To invite vulnerability. To move without being consumed by how my movement might be perceived by someone else.
And on the other side, freedom awaited.
Not freedom as some permanent state I could finally achieve.
Freedom as participation.
Participation in my own life.
I have been thinking about what it means to receive.
Kindness. Gentleness. Genuine connection.
The ground beneath my feet. Cool air brushing against my face.
Allowing the moment to reach me before deciding what I think about it.
Maybe receiving is simply allowing contact.
Letting something in.
And release moves in the other direction.
Letting something out.
A breath. A sound. A feeling. A movement. An honest answer.
And then there is movement.
Walking. Learning. Becoming. Changing direction.
Having the moment.
Getting the tattoo.
Asking the question.
Answering the question.
Feeling.
Not numbing.
Feeling.
Rough and smooth.
Soft and raw.
Empty and full.
Vulnerable and strong.
Dark and light.
Nearly two years ago, I also wrote:
Time is a traveler.
Reading those words now feels different.
Time has traveled.
And so have I.
Maybe time is the traveler.
And I am the passenger.
The woman who wrote those words planted something.
And nearly two years later,
I get to sit beside what grew.
Maybe living my truth is continuing to enter.
Continuing to receive.
Continuing to release.
Continuing to move.
Continuing to feel.
Continuing to become.
And learning to let the journey reach me.
Thank you for sharing these few quiet moments with me today. Until next time, take gentle care of yourself. 🤍
