Find a comfortable space,
As comfy as it can be right now.
Space where if your body wants to sleep,
It can.
Add cushions,
Pillows,
A favourite blanket or cover.
Something you can hold close.
Take some time to check in with what your body needs.
Take a moment to settle.
You don't have to be still.
You don't have to be calm.
There's nothing to get right.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to do.
Just be here,
Exactly as you are.
Let your body know it is welcome.
If you need to move,
Let yourself move.
If your fingers want to move,
Or your feet want to wiggle,
Let them.
Let the rhythm of movement comfort you.
Stimming is welcome here.
Your whole body is welcome.
Now gently turn your attention to your breath.
You don't have to slow it.
Don't try to change it.
Just notice it.
The way the air moves in.
The way it moves out.
Let it flow however it needs to.
Even if it's shallow.
Even if it stumbles.
It's okay.
If it feels alright,
Place a hand on your chest or your belly.
Feel the rise and fall under your touch.
Feel your body breathing.
Your breath is holding you.
You are being held.
Now gently bring your awareness to your brain.
Not just the thoughts or the feelings,
But the whole of your head.
The weight of it.
The whirl of it.
The weariness.
Notice what it feels like in there right now.
You might notice to yourself which parts are here.
The parts that are so tired.
The parts that just can't stop.
You don't need to push any part away.
They all matter.
You might notice more parts arriving.
The part with the to-do list.
The part that worries.
The one that watches the clock.
The one afraid something's been forgotten.
Even the bedtime rebel part that wants to stay awake just a little longer.
Because the day never really felt like yours.
They are all welcome here.
You can simply notice them.
Let them know you see them.
See if you can find the part that's so tired.
Can you feel where it lives in your body?
Does it have a shape?
A colour?
A texture?
An image?
Maybe you don't see images.
You just have a sense.
Maybe it feels like fog.
Or heavy stone.
Or a long,
Low sigh.
Let it know you see it.
You might say,
Thank you for letting me feel your tiredness.
You don't have to carry it alone anymore.
And now,
Turn towards the part that can't rest.
Or the one who's buzzing.
Or worrying.
Or keeping track of everything.
Turn towards whoever needs your care right now.
Can you feel where it lives in your body?
And gently ask it,
What are you afraid might happen if you stopped?
You might say,
I see how hard you're working to keep me going.
You must be so tired too.
You don't have to stop.
Just know I'm here with you.
There is no rush to change anything.
Just notice.
Just breathe.
Breathe.
One by one.
Hold space for all of them.
The one who's exhausted.
The one who's alert.
The worrier.
The planner.
The bedtime rebel.
The one who needs to be held.
Before it lets go.
Maybe somewhere behind them.
Or beneath them.
Or gently holding them.
You sense a quiet presence.
A stillness that isn't trying to fix anything.
A warmth that is simply here to witness.
That's you.
That's self.
And you are already here.
If any part feels ready to soften,
Even just a little,
Let them know it's safe.
Safe.
Safe to rest.
Safe to breathe out.
But if they're not ready,
That's okay too.
Just being with them is enough.
When you feel ready,
Slowly feel in to where your body meets the surface holding you.
Notice any warmth.
Any weight.
Any breath still moving.
Let your breath return to its own rhythm.
Let your body feel held.
And let it know it's allowed to rest.
Even if sleep doesn't come,
You've made a space for rest to begin.
And that is enough.
