This is for the woman who’s tired of holding it all together.
Who’s been strong for too long.
Who’s learnt to carry everyone else — but forgotten how to receive.

It’s for the one whose nervous system is threadbare.
Who lives on resilience and half-breaths.
Who needs more than a holiday — she needs a homecoming.

It’s for the woman standing at a threshold.
Something’s ending.
Something else is calling — but it doesn’t have a name yet.
She just knows she can’t go back.

It’s for the woman moving through quiet grief.
Grief that’s not always loud — but lingers in the body, in the tiredness, in the longing.
Grief for what was, what never was, and what can no longer be ignored.

It’s for the woman who’s done the courses, the talking, the trying…
And is ready for something older.
Slower.
More honest.
More alive.

She doesn’t need fixing.
She doesn’t need more strategies.

She needs to remember.

To be witnessed in her becoming.
To rest without guilt.
To sit in circle, barefoot and real,
and whisper — finally — “I’m still here.”