Yesterday started slow, waking up in a bunk bed next to my son who cried for me in the middle of the night. Extra sunshine coming in through the window, extra hour of sleep, extra coffee as I made my way downstairs in my robe.

I drank coffee in the hammock. I cleaned and sorted my still “under construction” house. But most of all, I was alone. Completely and utterly alone for four glorious hours.

This whole year I’ve felt “under construction.” Way more than I can remember before. I have pushed through a lot of emotions and I’ve sat with many others. It’s been uncomfortable to say the least.

But I remembered something really important about myself, toiling around in my robe with music in my headphones and a bottle of cleaner in one hand, coffee in the other. I haven’t been giving myself what I need the most, pockets of stillness and quiet, whenever possible. Time ALONE, one my most cherished things.

Presence over perfection.
Wholeness over perfection.
Coming home to myself again and again, in whatever way I need.