The truth? I haven’t been journaling as much as I’d like to. I don’t have a sacred morning routine or quiet hours to myself. Most days, if I do get the chance to journal, it’s after 10am—and I’m not alone. I’m squeezing it in between life, motherhood, and the ever-growing to-do list.
But I still try.
Some days I write. Other days, I don’t. Some mornings, I sit with my thoughts for a few minutes, and on different days, I just scroll or sip coffee and stare into space. It’s inconsistent. Imperfect. And completely real.
This is what self-care looks like lately:
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Writing when I feel like I can
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Taking 5 deep breaths instead of an hour to myself
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Resting with a book, even if I don’t make it past one page
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Letting go of the guilt when I don’t check off my “ideal self-care” list
I used to think self-care had to be structured—something planned and polished. But I’m learning that in this season, self-care might just be the small, stolen moments. The honest ones. The ones that don’t make it to Instagram.
So, if you’re here, reading this, and you’ve been feeling the same—trying to find time for yourself and sometimes not succeeding—know that you’re not alone.
We’re doing the best we can. And maybe, for today, that’s enough.
I’m learning to see the small moments as enough—because
even quiet care, when it’s real, still matters.
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