You've done so much today.
Dinner is cooked,
Maybe dishes are done,
Maybe they're not,
Lights are low,
Kids are tucked in,
And the house has finally fallen into its evening rhythm.
Before you move on to the next thing,
Before the scrolling,
The emails,
The tidying,
The TV,
Before a moment of connection with your partner,
Let's pause here.
Let this be a small moment that belongs entirely to you.
Take a slow breath in through your nose for a count of 8.
1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8.
Hold.
Exhale.
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8.
Notice how your body knows what to do.
The natural rhythm of release.
You don't have to manage or fix anything right now.
Just breathe.
Feel the surface beneath you.
The chair,
The couch,
The floor,
Supporting your body fully.
Drop your shoulders a little.
Unclench your jaw.
Relax your tongue.
Relax your eyebrows.
You might even let out a quiet sigh.
Notice the sounds around you.
The hum of the refrigerator,
Maybe a clock ticking,
Maybe the dishwashers going,
Perhaps the quiet outside your window,
Perhaps the noise outside your window.
This is the sound of the world carrying on while you rest.
You are part of it,
And you are allowed to pause within it.
Bring your attention again to your breath,
Not trying to deepen it,
Just noticing.
Inhale,
Slow and steady.
Exhale,
Letting go.
Inhale,
Slow and steady.
Exhale,
Letting go.
You moved through so many roles today.
Parent,
Partner,
Professional,
Friend,
Son,
Daughter.
You held other people's emotions,
Solved problems,
And stretched yourself in countless small ways,
Seen and unseen,
Sometimes even by you.
You may not even realize how much care you've given.
If a part of you feels empty or tired,
That's okay.
You have spent your energy wisely giving,
Holding,
Showing up.
You don't have to be productive in this moment.
You can simply be.
Let yourself feel that truth.
I have done enough today.
You have done enough for today.
Repeat it silently or aloud if it helps.
I have done enough.
I am allowed to rest.
Imagine yourself sitting beside a calm lake at dusk.
The sky holds the last light of day,
Soft purples,
Blues fading into stillness.
The water is quiet,
Reflecting the sky back perfectly.
If a breeze comes,
It ripples the surface of the water for a moment,
But the lake always returns to calm.
Your mind can be like that lake.
Thoughts may ripple through.
What still needs to be done?
What didn't go as planned?
What am I packing for lunch tomorrow?
What will we eat for dinner?
But the deeper water remains still.
You can watch the ripples and let them fade.
Each exhale smooths the surface.
Each breath brings you closer to stillness.
Inhale.
.
.
Exhale.
Bring a hand to your heart.
Again,
Feel the warmth of your own touch.
That steady rhythm beneath your palm.
This is you,
Still here,
Still worthy of care.
Whisper quietly to yourself as if speaking to your closest friend.
You did your best today.
You are allowed to rest.
You are enough.
Notice what it feels like to receive your own kindness,
What you would say to someone else if they were sitting next to you.
If some tears come,
Let them.
If quiet comes,
Welcome it.
You are recharging not just your body,
But your spirit,
The part of you that gives and loves so fully,
But needs its own tending.
When you're ready,
Take another slow breath in and exhale softly.
Begin to feel the room around you again,
The air,
The temperature,
The light.
You can stay right where you are or slowly transition into whatever's next,
Carrying this calm with you.
There's no need to rush.
As you move through the rest of your evening,
May you feel grounded in this truth.
Rest is not a reward,
It's a right.
You have given enough.
You are enough.
Be well.
