The Sacred Return: The Whisper From Within

The Sacred Return: A Whisper From Within

The Sacred Return: A Whisper From Within

There are seasons in life when we become so busy doing, achieving, and caring for others that we lose touch with who we are beneath it all.

For some of us, it’s not a return to something we once had — but a discovery of what we never knew.

I didn’t grow up with a deep sense of grounding. I had a safe home, yes — but also a quiet pressure to hold it all together. As the oldest daughter, I learned early how to morph and manage, how to fit in and keep peace. But I didn’t know what it meant to feel rooted. Whole.

Years later, my body finally spoke up — in a way I couldn’t ignore. That moment became the beginning of everything that followed. Not a breakdown… but a sacred unraveling.

And the first step home.

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Losing Ourselves in the Doing

It’s so easy to lose ourselves. We say yes to all the right things. We meet expectations. We keep everyone fed, on time, cared for, and moving forward. But somewhere along the way, we stop asking what we need.

Life gets louder. Schedules get fuller. And without realizing it, we begin living from the outside in.

It wasn’t dramatic for me. No sudden collapse or major crisis. Just a slow drift into disconnection — from my body, my soul, and if I’m honest… from God.

I didn’t even know I was gone.

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The Sacred Unraveling

That ulcer wasn’t the problem — it was the invitation.

It marked the beginning of something I hadn’t allowed myself before: the space to pause and look within. Not for a quick fix or another strategy to push through — but to ask deeper questions.

This was in my late 40s. I didn’t make the connection to food until much later — probably three or four years ago. That came with time and healing. But this moment… this was different. It was the first time I considered that I had needs, too.

Around the same time, I was also facing some hard truths in a family relationship — ones that cracked something open in me emotionally. I had spent most of my life managing, supporting, absorbing. But this was different. It forced me to look at boundaries, at truth-telling, and at the quiet roles we play in our families without even realizing it.

That season brought a mix of grief, clarity, and surrender. And although I wasn’t ready to name it then, I was beginning to find my voice.

That quiet awareness unraveled something in me. Not all at once — but over years. A long, slow process of returning to the parts of myself I had ignored, dismissed, or never truly met.

It would take more time — and many more whispers — before I reached the kind of moment I’ve written about before: sitting around a campfire, realizing how far I’d come.

But this was the beginning.

The sacred unraveling.

The start of the return