02/09/2026
An ode to the 57th version of me🥰🙌🏽🎉🧁💃🏽🪩🎊💐
A Body That Knows the Way Home
I am no longer interested
in proving I can carry everything.
I have carried enough.
Grilliant, invisible, unthanked loads—
people’s grief,
people’s hope,
people’s becoming.
I have been altar and bridge,
midwife and mirror,
the quiet room where trembling stories
learned how to breathe again.
And now—
at 57—
I feel my own breath asking to be centered.
I have learned the language of the body
better than the language of urgency.
I trust the slow intelligence of muscle,
the wisdom in the hips,
the ancient remembering in my spine.
I no longer rush healing.
I no longer rush myself.
Menopause did not take from me.
It clarified me.
It burned away the noise
until only truth remained:
I am not here to be consumed.
I am here to be embodied.
I am a woman who moves
like she has met God in her own bones.
A woman who knows that a calm nervous system
is not a luxury—
it is a revolution.
I have stopped apologizing for depth.
Stopped shrinking my joy
so others can remain comfortable in their smallness.
I have stopped calling my power “too much.”
I have stopped calling my rest “laziness.”
I have stopped calling my needs “selfish.”
I call them sacred now.
I am learning to receive
the same devotion
I have offered to everyone else.
At 57,
I am not becoming someone new.
I am returning
to the woman who was always here—
before the overgiving,
before the overdoing,
before the quiet sacrifices I renamed love.
I am walking myself home.
And this time,
I am not carrying anyone else with me.
Happy birthday to me!🤩✨💜🦋
