Have you practiced self-care this week?

Lately, I’ve been leaning into movement—working out to stay grounded and writing to untangle my thoughts. Mornings have become my sanctuary. I light the day with intention, hoping—quietly, deeply—that today will be the one. The one where things click into place, where I can finally exhale the breath I’ve been holding for years.

But to this day, the sun sets without answers. The help I’ve been waiting for doesn’t knock. And still—I rise, repeat, try again.

No, I can’t say I’m untouched by it all. I feel the wear.
But I also can’t say I’ve lost hope completely.
I sit somewhere in between—tired, but still reaching, holding on to this ‘baseless’ hope, but hope is hope.

This week, I carved out time to care for myself in smaller, gentler ways. I went to the salon. I gave myself a pedicure. Three days off felt like a small miracle, and I let rest have its way with me. I let my husband handle the chores—and oh, how hard it was not to hover, not to correct, not to rearrange everything after he was done.

But I stayed quiet. I gave up the need to control, and in doing so, I won a quiet victory.

I slept—long, unapologetic hours. I stretched in the morning. I braved cold showers, letting the chill jolt me into the day like a baptism of resolve. I did everything I could to greet the morning with a kind of reverence. As if the way I began the day could shape what followed.

I read somewhere that the brain doesn’t know the difference between imagination and reality. So I’m practicing a kind of mental magic—conditioning myself to see the light, even when it hides. Maybe it’s cheesy. But here I am, saying it anyway:

I am rich today.
I am enough.
I am calm, even if only for now.
I can pay for my son’s classes.
The bills. The debt.
The sky hasn’t fallen.

It is a good day.

So, how are you holding yourself this week, dear reader?
What kindness have you offered your own heart?

Karin Sabrina