04/05/2025
Motherhood broke my routines—and brought me home
Before I became a mother, I had all my little rituals.
My yoga mat was my sacred space. I journaled in the mornings. I burned sage. I had playlists and mantras and moon rituals. I carved out time for long walks alone and listened to podcasts that fed my soul.
And now?
Now I get on the mat to pick up toys.
Now my “practice” is breastfeeding.
Now I meditate while holding my daughter in my arms, eyes open, heart full.
Now my biggest spiritual tool is simply being here—with her.
Now my biggest spiritual tool is my own presence—because that’s all I’ve got left.
And strangely… it’s enough.
No, I’m not doing daily breathwork.
No, I’m not lighting candles or pulling cards.
I don’t even remember the last time I sat cross-legged in silence.
But when I look into my daughter’s eyes…
When I hold her close and feel her heartbeat slow into mine…
When I surrender fully to this moment, even if it’s messy or loud or lonely—
Then I remember: this is it.
This is the practice.
It’s not polished or peaceful.
But it’s real. It’s raw. It strips everything away until only the truth remains.
Presence.
Motherhood has become my new path.
Not because I planned it, but because life led me here.
And I’m missing my old self sometimes.
But I wouldn’t trade this sacred chaos for anything.
Because this, right here—this wild, slow, soft, demanding, tender now—
is where I’m learning to live fully.
Even without the yoga mat.
Even without the incense.
Even without the space I thought I needed.
I’ve never felt more connected.
Not to a “higher self.”
But to this version of me—the one who’s tired and stretched and cracked open.
The one who’s learning to be enough, exactly as she is.
That’s the real spiritual work anyway, right?
