To the Woman Who Forgot How to Receive

 

You’ve given.
And given.
And given.

 

Pieces of yourself scattered in kitchens and hospital rooms, on Zoom calls and in whispered apologies that weren’t yours to make.

 

You’ve held crying children, angry partners, grieving friends, and grown-ass adults who should’ve known better.

 

And somewhere along the way,
you started to believe that love was earned by exhaustion.
 

That your worth lived in your usefulness.
That stillness meant laziness. That joy was selfish. That rest was for other people.

 

Let this place undo all of that.

 

Here, you don’t have to serve to be seen.
You don’t have to explain why you’re tired.
You don’t have to be good.
You just have to be human.

 

Let yourself be cared for.
Let your body soften.
Let your story rise without censoring the hard parts.

 

This is not a retreat for women who want to impress.
This is a refuge for women who want to remember.

 

You are allowed to receive here.
Not as a reward.
But as your birthright.

 

Come in. Lay it down.
You don’t have to carry it all anymore.