Finding My Way Back

Opening Reflection: An Unfolding in Motion

I’ve been in the middle of a shift lately. Not a sharp turn or a dramatic leap—more like a slow, steady turning toward something that has been with me all along. It didn’t begin with a single moment, but I’ve started to feel it in my bones. A quiet sense of momentum, like something inside me is catching up with where I’ve been trying to go.

There’s a rhythm to this change. A feeling of alignment, like the inner and outer worlds are starting to hum the same tune. It’s subtle but undeniable. I can feel it when I wake up in the morning with more clarity. I can feel it in the way I’m choosing my words, the way I’m trusting myself just a little more than I used to. I feel it in my breath, in the way my shoulders settle a little more each day.

The medicine has helped—of course it has. It always knows how to crack the window open just wide enough for light to come through. But there’s something else unfolding here. Something that’s been gathering for a long time. Like a story that’s been waiting its turn to be told.

I think a lot of us live our early lives inside other people’s dreams for us.

Our parents, our culture, our communities—they all carry expectations. Whether they speak them aloud or not, we feel them. We absorb them. And before we know it, we’re shaping ourselves around those projections, trying to be the version of ourselves that makes sense to everyone else.

I’ve done that. I’ve worn the roles. I’ve spoken the lines. And for a while, it worked. Until it didn’t.

These past few months, I’ve been noticing the pieces of myself that no longer fit into the old mold. Not because I’ve outgrown them, but because they were never truly mine. There’s been a softness in the letting go. A kind of relief. Like I can finally hear my own voice again.

Sometimes this shift shows up in big, obvious ways. A decision. A conversation. A full-body yes or no. But more often, it’s quieter. Like crying over nothing in the middle of the afternoon. Like saying no without explaining why.

Like craving silence when the world wants noise.

This unfolding doesn’t feel like reinvention. It feels like remembering. Like peeling away the layers that were never really me, and touching something more true underneath. A deeper, quieter knowing.

A self that is rooted, honest, and free.

And somehow, it feels like the universe is moving with me. Like it’s making space for this becoming, holding its breath as I step further into what’s next.

Maybe you’re feeling it too—a shift, a stirring, a quiet knowing. If so, trust that you're not alone.

What are the parts of you that are beginning to speak again, now that there’s space?

Music for Walking Back Home

This playlist is designed to hold you as you soften into the next version of yourself.

It’s spacious, soulful, and textured—music for slow mornings, quiet revelations, and the tender work of remembering who you are beneath the noise.

Let these songs accompany you as you unfold.

Returning to the Truth Beneath the Story

Finally, I recorded a new meditation practice for you.

This one is called A Walk Back to Yourself. It’s a gentle guided meditation designed to help you return to the truth beneath the stories you’ve been carrying, an invitation to reconnect with the parts of you that have always been whole.

Set aside a few quiet minutes where you can sit or lie down without interruption. Let it be a soft landing.

You can always find these practices on Glow State over on Spotify. I'm slowly building a library of meditations and somatic tools to support your journey.