Soul Sanctuary

01/02/2026

💫 So how do you actually mark Imbolc? 💫

Not with anything complicated.
And definitely not by forcing yourself to feel motivated.

Imbolc was never about celebration in the modern sense —
it was about tending.
The home.
The hearth.
The inner flame.

It has also always been linked to fertility — not as pressure to create, but as a reminder that the ground is becoming ready.

Here are a few gentle ways to honour it that still fit real life:

✨ Light a candle
That’s it. Just one.
A quiet acknowledgement that the light is returning —
even if you don’t feel it fully yet.

✨ Clear a small space
A drawer. A surface. A corner.
Not a full declutter. Just enough to let some air in.

✨ Ask one honest question
What feels like it’s beginning to shift for me?
No journaling marathon required.
Let the answer arrive in its own time.

✨ Do something nurturing
Early nights. Warm food. Saying no.
Imbolc is about care, not action.

This isn’t the season for pushing.
It’s the season for protecting what’s quietly growing.

If today feels ordinary, that’s perfect.
That’s exactly how Imbolc works 🤍

01/02/2026

Imbolc isn’t about spring.

It comes from Ireland, from old Celtic times, and it marks the moment when winter is technically still here… but the light has already shifted.

The days are still cold.
Life still feels heavy.
And yet — something has changed.

That’s why Imbolc mattered so much to people back then.
They weren’t waiting for flowers or sunshine.
They were paying attention to the first signs — sheep giving milk again, longer daylight, the quiet promise that things were turning.

It was linked to Brigid, a goddess of healing, creativity, and fire — because at this time of year, keeping the flame alive mattered more than anything else.

And honestly… that’s still true.

Imbolc speaks to that phase of life where:

• you’re not at your worst anymore
• but you’re not “better” yet either
• and everyone else seems to think you should be further along

It’s the in-between.
The something is happening, even if I can’t explain it stage.

So if you feel a bit flat, hopeful-but-tired, or like your growth has gone underground lately — you’re not behind.

You’re right on time.

That’s Imbolc 🤍

29/01/2026

✨ This is for those whose bodies shut down long before their minds catch up. ✨

She’s told to get over it.
It’s in the past.

But her nervous system doesn’t register time.
It registers threat.

Her chest compresses.
Breath becomes shallow, careful.
Her throat closes — not in emotion, but in shutdown.

Her mind goes offline.
No clear thoughts.
Just static. Fragments. Noise without order.

Then the weight arrives.

Her limbs feel dense.
Like gravity has increased.
Like moving would cost more energy than she has.

So her body chooses stillness.
Not calm — immobility.

Het heart rate slows…
Energy drops.
Awareness pulls inward.

This is not fight.
This is not flight.

This is the body saying:
If I don’t move, I might survive this.

Because his words didn’t just describe the past.
They implied something dangerous in the present.

That love is conditional.
That safety can be withdrawn.
That she could be left.

So her system does what it learned long ago.
It shuts down.
It conserves.
It freezes.

Not because she wants to.
Not because she agrees.

But because somewhere deep inside,
this feels like the moment everything could disappear.

If this sounds familiar you survived in the only way that felt possible, and that deserves compassion.

23/01/2026

When you choose you, things shift.

Doors open.
Answers arrive.
The thing you thought was impossible suddenly isn’t.

Alignment changes everything. 🤍

21/01/2026

She feels emotionally battered and bruised — that’s the only language she has for it. But underneath, it’s her nervous system completely overloaded.

She’s still moving through daily life. Doing what needs doing. Smiling when required. But inside she feels thin. Fragile.

She can’t absorb any more emotion — not hers, not anyone else’s. There’s nowhere for it to go.

Everything she’s been holding is still there. Conversations. Words. Moments she couldn’t process at the time because she had to keep going. They haven’t released — they’ve stacked. Layer on layer. Pressing in.

Her system is saturated. Like a sponge that’s taken on too much water and can’t soak up another drop. Like a cup already overflowing, yet still being asked to receive more.

She needs quiet. Deep quiet. Even music feels like too much input. Silence is the only thing that lets her body begin to settle. The only place where her nervous system might finally start to unload what it’s been carrying.

She’s not falling apart.
She’s full.

And until something empties, nothing else can be taken in.

If this resonates, give yourself permission to pause. Quiet isn’t avoidance — it’s how the body begins to heal. 🖤

19/01/2026

“If I’m like her, will you stop loving me too?”

She didn’t ask it out loud.
Her body asked it for her.

It showed up as tightness in her chest.
A lump in her throat.
That familiar urge to go quiet and disappear just enough to stay safe.

Because when you carry a rejection wound,
love doesn’t just feel beautiful —
it feels conditional the moment the energy shifts.

She wasn’t arguing.
She was reaching.
Naming a feeling and hoping it would be met with reassurance.

But instead, she was compared.
And her nervous system did what it learned to do long ago:

If I’m too much, I’ll be left.
If I need reassurance, I’ll be pushed away.
If I’m like the one before me, I won’t be chosen.

This is how the rejection wound speaks —
not in logic,
but in fear disguised as self-protection.

So she pulled inward.
Not to punish.
Not to manipulate.
But because somewhere deep inside,
a younger part of her was bracing for loss.

And here’s the healing she’s learning now:

The rejection wound isn’t a flaw —
it’s evidence of a heart that learned to survive without safety.

It doesn’t need fixing.
It needs reassurance.
It needs slowness.
It needs love that doesn’t disappear when emotions appear.

Healing isn’t about becoming less sensitive.
It’s about learning that you don’t have to earn love by shrinking.

And if this story feels familiar, let this land gently:

You are not hard to love.
You are not asking for too much.
You cannot be replaced or measured against a past.

You are worthy of love that stays.
Love that soothes instead of threatens.
Love that says, “You’re safe here — even when you feel.”

And if something in you recognised yourself here,
know that you don’t have to walk this path alone.
Holding space for women through moments like this — and many others — is at the heart of the work I do. 🌿

18/01/2026

If this resonates, trust this — your emotional depth is not too much, it simply requires the right nervous system to meet it 🕊️ 💫

18/01/2026

She wasn’t arguing.
She was speaking because she believed it was safe.

For her, emotional honesty was intimacy.
It was how she communicated.

She named what she felt
because staying silent would have meant
leaving herself behind —
even though it made her vulnerable.

But when vulnerability is met with irritation and frustration,
the nervous system doesn’t argue —
it remembers.

It remembers every time love felt conditional.
Every time closeness came with rules.
Every time silence was safer than truth.

The pain wasn’t being misunderstood.
It was the realisation
that this depth — this way of loving —
might cost her belonging.

Something ancient responded,
and it rose to protect.

Her heart didn’t shut.
It learned to hesitate.
To measure how much of itself
it was allowed to offer.

And that’s the quiet grief no one sees —
not the moment,
but the part of her
that opens just a little more carefully next time.

18/01/2026

18/01/2026

“Smile and the world smiles with you.
Cry and you cry alone.”

It’s a strange quote

You say it like it’s truth.

But tears aren’t something to step away from.
They’re something to stay with.

They’re sacred.
They mean the heart is open.
They mean something real is happening.

If someone cries and ends up alone,
that isn’t because of the tears.

It’s because not everyone knows how to stand
in the presence of something sacred

17/01/2026

She learned to speak carefully.

She didn’t arrive this way by accident.

She learned to soften her words before they ever left her mouth.
To check her tone.
To prepare herself to be misunderstood.

When she felt disappointed, she didn’t accuse anyone.
She explained herself — carefully — so no one would feel blamed.

When she felt sad, she didn’t ask to be comforted.
She reassured the other person that they hadn’t done anything wrong.

She put more effort into managing the reaction
than into expressing the feeling itself.

And still —
somehow —
it was too much.

Not because she shouted.
Not because she criticised.
But because her sadness was present.

So she tried again.

She clarified.
She repeated herself.
She said, “There’s nothing to fix. I just need you to understand.”

But frustration showed up anyway.

Defensiveness followed —
not loud,
not cruel,
but closing.

And in that moment, something old surfaced —
the familiar ache of realising
she was holding the feeling alone.

Because what she needed wasn’t a solution.
It wasn’t logic.
It wasn’t an explanation.

It was to be met.

To hear, “I see you. That makes sense.”

Instead, the sadness turned inward.
And she carried it quietly,
like she always had.

She wasn’t telling them to fix it.
She was telling them because she didn’t want to hold the sadness alone. 🕊️

Listening is what turns vulnerability into connection - and is often the most valuable thing you can do 💫

15/01/2026

She chose herself — and everything shifted.

She stopped waiting to be chosen and started asking one powerful question:
“Does this expand me… or does it ask me to abandon myself?”

And if it costs her her peace, her voice, or her light,
the answer is no.

She didn’t demand.
She didn’t beg.
She simply became unavailable to what didn’t honour her.

Now she chooses what feels true in her body.
What feels calm in her soul.
What feels like growth instead of survival.

And because of that,
her life is opening in ways she never imagined.

When a woman chooses herself,
she doesn’t lose anything real —
she finds everything she was always meant to be. 💫

If that message landed in your body, it’s not an accident.

I created a collection of guided meditations + soul activations to help women release self-abandonment and step into the version of themselves who feels chosen, safe, and supported.

✨ You can explore them here → link in comments