Finding the Courage to Unravel

Pull One Thread | The Other Side of Rupture | The Humanity of your Heart

Leah Hill
April 14, 2025

You are welcome here — with your fear, your grief, your numbness, your not-knowing.
You are welcome here if you are holding too much.
You are welcome here if something in you is already coming undone.
You are welcome here even if you do not yet have the words for what you’re feeling.

There is no need to explain.
There is no need to hold it all together in this space.

We are living through a time of real unraveling.
Not theoretical. Not subtle. It’s happening in front of us, and inside of us.
The institutions we’ve leaned on for stability — civil rights, education, care systems — are shifting or breaking.
And with them, our sense of what it means to be held by something larger.
Our sense of humanity.
Our ability to move slowly. To be tender. To be seen.

This invitation is not about accepting collapse.
It is about facing this moment with care.
It is about the choice to unravel and touch our collective despair with intention.
To let go of what’s suffocating. To feel what’s real.
To trust that we can come back together — not perfectly, but honestly. With more grace. More humanity.

So take a breath.
Let yourself soften.
You do not have to fall apart all at once.
You are allowed to come undone in pieces.
And you are allowed to take your time coming back.

This week’s offerings are here to support that:
A reflection.
A playlist.
A somatic practice.

Grace from my heart to yours.

Let this hold you through the middle of things.
Not to fix. But to accompany.
Not to rush you. But to remind you: you’re not alone.

Pull One Thread

I’ve spent most of my life trying to hold it all together. I was too terrified (ironically) to allow myself to unravel to touch my heart’s despair.

I grew up in instability, where deep emotion felt dangerous. There was no room to fall apart. Later, I became a mother when I was still so young myself. I had to lead. I had to hold. There was no one else to do it. And in the professional world, where I built my career, vulnerability was never safe. Emotional control wasn’t just expected. It was required.

So I got very good at holding it all in.

And if I’m honest, I still carry that skill. I still notice the ways I tense up when things feel uncertain. I still catch myself clenching, breathing shallowly, powering through. It’s so automatic. And most days, it works. Until it doesn’t.

Lately, my heart has been aching from the callous display of hatefulness directed at our most vulnerable communities. I have felt destabilized and dysregulated to my core.

I’ve learned that choosing to unravel — carefully, with support — is not collapse. It’s clarity. It’s courage. It’s a way back to being human.

So I want to invite you into a quiet moment of reflection:

Where are you holding it all together right now?
And what might happen if you let just one thread loosen?

Not everything. Not all at once. Just one.

It could be the tension in your shoulders.
The boundary that no longer fits.
The words you’re not saying.
The feeling you keep pushing away.

Let yourself notice. Stay with it. Then ask:

What am I afraid will happen if I stop holding this so tightly?

What kind of support would help me stay with what comes up?

What might shift if I gave myself a little more space?

This is not about falling apart. This is about meeting yourself where you are, with care.
About trusting that you can unravel with intention — and return, not the same, but more connected. To yourself. To your body. To your humanity.

Let the thread stay loose for a while.
Breathe into the space it creates.
You’ll know when it’s time to begin again.

The Other Side of Rupture

Unraveling isn’t falling apart. It’s a plan. A brave one.

This playlist traces the arc of that planful courage. The willingness to meet what’s painful, shadowed, or unknown. To touch despair with the intention of coming back, not the same, but with more humanity. More grace.

These songs move through stillness, into rupture, and out into a quieter kind of strength. Let them hold the rhythm while you do what only you can do. Sit with what’s hard. Feel what’s true. Trust in your ability to reweave.

Not perfectly. But intentionally.

Humanity of Your Heart

This is a guided practice to help you return to the felt sense of your heart — not just as an organ, but as a place of truth, tenderness, and remembering.

In a world that asks us to betray our hearts, that destabilizes our systems of safety, this practice offers something different. A space to feel what’s real. A space to reconnect with your own humanity.

We move gently. We breathe. We notice.
Not to fix. But to come closer to what matters.

Let this be your permission to be with your heart, exactly as it is.

Wherever this finds you, I hope you’ll take what you need.
Whether it’s one breath, one song, one thread loosened — let that be enough.

You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to hold it all.
And you don’t have to do it alone.

🫶🏼 Leah

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