It’s been a long week.
The kind that lingers in your body and mind. I’m mentally drained, physically run down, overwhelmed, anxious as f@ck, and not sleeping. A neurological flare-up has stretched on for days, leaving me feeling nauseous and unable to focus. And underneath it all, grief is still there—something I’m carrying as I try to move forward.
I’ve been incredibly hard on myself this week.
Really hard.
I’ve expected more than I could give. I’ve pushed when I should have paused. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what self-compassion actually means.
Today, I tried to find my way back.
After work, I got my haircut. Nothing big or dramatic, but it felt like a reset—a quiet reminder that I deserve care too.
Sometimes self-care isn’t big or dramatic. It lives in the quiet choices, the small moments where we choose ourselves.
Tonight, I’m leaning into another kind of reset—welcoming Shabbat, taking a breath, and letting its rhythm slow me down. And maybe, just maybe, finding a bit of joy watching the boys of summer back in action for their home opener.
A pause. A reset. A softening.
Heading into the weekend, I’m trying to be a little gentler with myself.
Because maybe self-compassion isn’t something we master—maybe it’s something we return to, again and again, in small, meaningful ways.
Tonight, that feels like enough.
Shabbat Shalom
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YouAreEnough 