Returning to Softness: My Self-Resurrection Date

This morning, I woke up beneath the weight of too many yesterdays. 

Grief, betrayal, and exhaustion all clung to my skin like a second shadow. I didn’t feel strong or inspired—I just felt tired, and if I’m honest, I didn’t feel okay.

But somewhere deep down, a gentle voice nudged me: Today, you can choose softness.

So, I did.

I whispered to myself: My softness is sacred. I am allowed to be still and bloom. I am safe in my body.

And with those words, I began to gather myself—piece by piece, breath by breath.

I let the sauna hold me first. The warmth melted my stress and quieted my racing thoughts. Each time old anxieties tried to return, I repeated my truth: I am allowed to be still. I am home within.

While I rested, the scent of rosemary potatoes filled my home, a promise of nourishment waiting on the other side of stillness. I took my time—there was no rush.

After my sauna, I drew a bubble bath, and mixed a sweet-pea sugar scrub with the most loving hands. I caressed every inch of my body, whispering affirmations to my skin:

I am here. I am whole. I am blooming.

It wasn’t just about pampering. It was about reclaiming. About being present in my body, letting each touch say, You are safe here. You are worthy of care.

Emerging from the bath, I felt new.

I slipped into a colorful, flowy dress—a celebration of my softness and a small rebellion against every day I felt unseen. I prepared breakfast slowly, feeling nourished inside and out. My skin glowed, and so did something in my spirit.

And then, I decided—today, I will take myself on a resurrection date.

Not to perform or to prove anything, but to simply be. To honor the self that survived, the self that’s still blooming. I’ll go to the park, let the sun and breeze kiss my skin, and let nature remind me:

Softness is strength. Resurrection is possible, every single day.

If you’re reading this and you’re struggling to rise, know this: you don’t have to force it. Invite yourself gently back home. Even the smallest act of care is an act of courage.

You are worthy of softness. You are worthy of beginning again. 

I am here. I am whole. I am blooming.