It took me a while to truly understand this, but one day it finally clicked. The lesson was never about loving so hard that you empty yourself. It wasn’t about giving more than you have just to feel worthy. It wasn’t about loving people simply because they exist—even when they don’t treat you right. And it certainly wasn’t about choosing someone who seems to “fit” your needs, even if your heart whispers otherwise.
Love isn’t meant to be one-sided. It’s meant to be mutual—an exchange of energy, care, and respect that feels balanced. If it drains you more than it fills you, it’s not love. Please don’t chase those who show no interest in you, or try to win over the coldest heart in the room just to prove you’re enough. You don’t deserve that weight. Even if you know deep down that their soul is good, their behavior still matters—and it’s okay to walk away when it doesn’t serve you.
The truth is, the lesson was always about choosing what helps you grow. Choosing the people who feel safe and warm, the ones who love you for who you are, not for how much effort you can pour into them. The ones who don’t feel like a constant uphill climb.
In the end, the lesson is YOU. Because when you love yourself deeply enough, you’ll see it clearly: watering souls that only take and never give back is not your calling. Some people are meant to stay only for a season, and that’s okay. And even if they remain in your life, you get to choose the distance that protects your heart and honors the beautiful creation God made you to be.
For a while, I felt overwhelmed by everything—grief, routine, the endless to-do lists. After losing my mother, life became hazy, like I was moving through fog. I kept showing up, doing my best, pushing forward. But deep down, I wasn’t really connected with myself.
I kept reading books and listening to podcasts that spoke about the importance of “sitting with yourself.” And at first, I thought—well, I am with myself all the time. What more could there be?
But the truth is, we often confuse proximity with presence. Just like we sometimes recite the ‘Father thou art in heaven’ prayer by habit, forgetting we’re actually speaking to the divine—the One who gave us life—so too do we forget what it means to truly be with ourselves.
“Sitting with yourself” isn’t just being alone. It’s about stillness. Not thinking. Not doing. Just listening. Letting the body speak. It always does—through fatigue, tension, even pain. But the noise of the world can be so loud that we stop hearing it.
Meditation became my doorway back to presence. Through it, I learned to pause, to listen—not just with my ears, but with my heart, my body, my soul. And what I discovered was that I was deeply tired. My body had been whispering it, even screaming it, through pain and illness. I’d heal one thing, only for something else to flare up.
Why? Because I hadn’t really listened. I was ignoring the lesson.
Unfelt emotions, unhealed wounds—they don’t just disappear. They live in the body. In tight shoulders, in headaches, in tension that refuses to leave. Sometimes, they even show up as physical swelling. Your system is always trying to tell you something: you need to feel this.
During meditation, I began to visualize those wounded parts of myself. And let me be honest—it hurt. Healing does. Old pain surfaced in waves, each one timed perfectly by my body, as if it knew I was finally ready to feel it.
That’s the truth about healing: you don’t get to choose only the light. You must walk through the heavy, uncomfortable parts, too. And if you don’t feel them willingly, life has a way of bringing them back to you—through people, through experiences that mirror the original wound.
It’s all chemistry. Emotional alchemy. What we suppress internally finds its way out externally, until we listen.
That’s why it’s so important to stay attuned to your body and heart. This inner relationship—the one we never learned in school—is essential. Getting to know yourself. Understanding your mind. Hearing your soul.
One moment that surprised me deeply was when, during meditation, I began to cry—unexpectedly, uncontrollably. It was like a river rising from within, and I finally let it wash over me. It made me realize: grief needs space. And tears are not a weakness; they’re truth. They’re healing.
Still, society teaches us to hide our sadness. To hush our tears. We’re told to stay strong, to keep going. But true strength is in allowing yourself to feel. To cry when your soul needs release. To stop patching wounds with productivity and just be.
Because in this life, we’re meant to experience. To feel. And yes, sometimes, to cry.
Your soul always knows what it needs to let go, to cleanse, to evolve. Crying is the body’s way of purifying itself. It’s not shameful—it’s sacred.
Toward the end of my meditation, I saw my mother’s smile with the eyes of my soul. It wasn’t a vision, not exactly—it was a knowing. A sense of peace. I understood, in that moment, that she was okay. That she had found her rest.
And that kind of knowing… it doesn’t come instantly. It comes slowly, with time. With love. With presence. And most of all, with the courage to sit with yourself—and listen.
You know those short, addictive reels that pop up on your feed and suddenly make you question your entire diet? That happened to me—except it wasn’t about a wild new recipe or a detox tea. It was about… flaxseeds. Yep, those tiny, humble seeds that seem to be everywhere lately. I kept seeing them, praised like some miracle food, and eventually thought: Okay, I need to dive in. So here we are.
What Are Flaxseeds, Anyway?
Flaxseeds come from the plant Linum usitatissimum, and they’ve been cherished for centuries thanks to their healing and health-boosting properties. Today, they’ve gained superfood status—and for good reason. Small as they are, they’re packed with essential nutrients and are especially popular in plant-based and clean-eating lifestyles.
Why Your Body Will Thank You (Health Benefits)
Omega-3 fatty acids (ALA): heart-healthy fats that reduce inflammation
Lignans: potent antioxidants that support hormonal balance
Fiber-rich: improves digestion, regularity, and gut health
Cholesterol and blood sugar friendly: may help lower both
Glow support: their nourishing oils contribute to healthy skin and hair
How to Enjoy Flaxseeds (Without Making a Face)
Let’s be real: flaxseeds don’t taste like a cupcake. But the beauty is—you can sneak them into almost anything!
Ground is best: Your body can’t fully break down whole seeds, so use a coffee grinder or buy them pre-ground
Smoothies: Add 1 tbsp to any fruit or veggie blend
Breakfast boost: Sprinkle on oatmeal, cereal, or plant-based yogurt
Baking magic: Toss them into muffin or pancake batter
Egg replacer: Mix 1 tbsp ground flax with 3 tbsp water, let sit—it turns into a gel (great for vegan recipes)
My Honest Take: Trial and Digestive Error
I’ll be honest—flaxseeds and I had a rocky start. I avoided them for a long time because they sometimes caused bloating. But recently, I decided to give them another shot. I bought a fresh batch, did a little prep, and started experimenting.
If you have a sensitive tummy like I do, here’s a gentler way to begin:
Soak them first: Soaking 1 tbsp of seeds in water for 15-20 min softens them and makes them easier to digest.
Smoothie-friendly: Once soaked, toss them into your blender with fruits and greens.
Oatmeal mornings: Stir them into your breakfast bowl for added fiber.
Baking: Add ground flax into pancakes, muffins, or granola bars.
Soups and salads: Sprinkle ground flax over meals as a finishing touch.
The Beauty Side: Flaxseeds = Inner & Outer Glow ✨
Flaxseeds aren’t just food—they’re fuel for your beauty routine. Here’s how they help:
Hair: stronger, shinier strands and a healthier scalp
Skin: clearer, calmer, and more radiant complexion
Nails: less brittle, more resilient
Mood & sleep: better hormone balance = more beauty sleep
4 DIY Flaxseed Beauty Recipes You’ll Love
1. Hair Gel (Natural Curl Enhancer & Moisturizer)
Ingredients:
2 tbsp whole flaxseeds
1 cup water
Optional: a few drops of rosemary or vitamin E oil
Instructions:
Simmer flaxseeds in water for 7–10 minutes, stirring until it thickens
Strain using a stocking or fine mesh
Let cool, add oils, and store in fridge (lasts ~1 week)
Use on damp hair or massage into the scalp
2. Flaxseed Face Mask (Firming & Hydrating)
Ingredients:
1 tbsp whole flaxseeds
3 tbsp hot water
Optional: lemon juice or honey
Instructions:
Soak seeds for 20–30 minutes until they become gel-like
Apply thin layer to face, let dry (~15 min), rinse gently
3. Nail & Cuticle Oil Soak
Ingredients:
1 tbsp flaxseed oil (cold-pressed)
1 tsp olive or castor oil (optional)
Instructions:
Soak hands in warm water for 5 min
Massage oils into nails and cuticles
Leave on overnight or wear gloves
4. Daily Glow Mix (Inner Radiance Booster)
Ingredients:
1 tbsp ground flaxseeds
1 tsp chia seeds
1/2 tsp cinnamon
Add to smoothies, oatmeal, or plant yogurt
Final Thoughts
Don’t be fooled by their size—flaxseeds pack a serious punch. Whether you’re looking to upgrade your digestion, balance your hormones, or give your beauty routine a natural boost, these tiny seeds can go a long way.
Try them. Play with recipes. See how your body (and glow) responds.
I’m not sure where to begin, but I know we needed to have this moment. A pause. A breath. A space where truth can rise. You’ve been through so much—words barely scratch the surface. Even when we say, „I’m okay,” the body whispers otherwise. The aches, the pressure, the pulsing… It’s our soul calling us back. Asking us not to run, but to stay. To feel.
So here I am, and I want to say: I’m sorry.
I wasn’t as brave as I pretended to be. I didn’t know how to navigate losing our mom, and all the grief that came crashing with it. Part of me tried to be strong, while another part longed to disappear into the past, when she was alive, laughing, whole. Our mom.
There were days we wondered if we cried enough. If we did enough. And nights when guilt sat heavy in our chest. Wishing we could’ve saved her. Held her tighter. Frozen time. But the truth is, her passing was never in our control. Her soul answered a higher calling—God’s timing, not ours. And though that parting shattered us, it wasn’t our fault. It was written, as hard as that is to accept.
We are learning now to live with the memories. To hold them with more peace and less ache. To love her beyond this realm, and let her love continue to guide us, spirit to spirit.
If she could speak to us today, I believe she’d smile and say, “I had to go. It was my time. But you, my love, you still have living to do.”
She’d want us to come home. Home to our body. To listen when it aches. To stop treating pain as something to push through, and instead, as something sacred to sit with. She’d want us to rest. To stop running. To breathe.
She’d want us to return to our heart and stop chasing perfection. To embrace our humanness—our flaws, our tenderness, our enough-ness. She always saw our worth, even when we didn’t. And she never needed more from us than love. We gave her that. We still do.
So no more guilt. No more punishing ourselves with self-neglect or shame. Let’s choose gentleness. Let’s believe, finally, that we are enough.
And thank you. Thank you, dear self, for surviving the unthinkable. For standing at that funeral, trembling in the cold. For going through endless appointments, hospital nights, and still showing up. Thank you for not giving up on us. For every breath, you kept going. For letting yourself find God in all of it.
Thank you for praying, for kneeling, for walking back into churches with shaking hands. For trying. For choosing healing even when it hurts.
Now it’s time to be strong—not in the way the world expects, but in the way that roots a tree: calm, grounded, alive in stillness.
We don’t need the world to understand us. We need to understand ourselves. We are not broken. We are growing.
Let’s keep moving forward. Eating with care. Moving with love. Speaking with grace. Let’s be kind, not because others deserve it, but because our soul does. Let’s be present in our own unique way—in our sacred, human, imperfect way.
Today, someone asked me what truly brings me joy, and how I’d spend a rainy day when work and worries are left at the door. My mind painted the picture instantly: a day wrapped in self-care, a slow pilates session to stretch my soul awake, a long shower that feels like a ritual, and then sinking into soft blankets, takeout on the way, my favorite show playing, and maybe a little online shopping spree just because it feels good.
It makes me smile because, before the pandemic, I don’t remember even having these simple cravings. Back then, I was always on the run, desperate to land a good job, pouring 200% of myself into everything, juggling chores, cooking, and trying to be everywhere at once. Somewhere in that frenzy, I forgot to ask myself: What do I actually enjoy?
The truth is, I have no clue what tomorrow holds — or how my rainy days might look when a little one joins our story, God willing. I’m sure those quiet hours will shift into something new, but for now, this is my soft place to land.
And you know what? It’s a pattern I cherish. As I was reading my fellow blogger’s movie recommendations, I laughed at myself — I always come back to the same shows. It’s my little comfort loop: Young Sheldon, The Big Bang Theory, The Gilmore Girls, then a binge of Korean dramas, some Disney magic, a sprinkle of sci-fi, and right back to the beginning.
In the end, maybe that’s what we all need — to shower our souls with whatever sparks joy, whether it’s something brand new or a story you’ve watched a hundred times before. There’s no shame in comfort. There’s no guilt in pressing play on something familiar. A rainy day off is for your heart, and your heart deserves the softest care you can give it. ☕✨📚
If only we could see how the twists and turns of our present are quietly clearing the path for our deepest hopes and dreams, we’d stop blaming God for the prayers that feel unanswered. If we truly knew what it would cost to make some dreams real, maybe we’d never dare ask for them at all.
But God, in His goodness, always knows what we need and how to shape our longings into something beautiful, in His time. So hold on, dear soul — be still and trust the unfolding. His deliverance is nearer than you think. You’re closer than you know.
When my mom left to be with Jesus, something inside me drifted loose — like a string snapped and my life unraveled, thread by thread. I’d built my days on routine and plans that made sense… but what do you do when life tosses storms your way, unannounced? I’m still learning.
Some of my old habits linger — some cling like shadows, some drift away. You set out on this journey of growth, brimming with hope, whispering wishes into the universe… but sometimes the universe stays silent, or answers in ways you didn’t expect.
I think maybe that’s how God catches our attention — letting weariness wrap around our shoulders so we finally pause and look up. And once the lesson settles deep in your bones, you’re expected to rise, dust off your soul, and find your rhythm again.
But no one really tells you how. They don’t say that the things you once loved might not taste the same. That a book might sit unopened, that your running shoes gather dust. All those good, nourishing things that once fed your spirit — they can feel heavy when your heart isn’t home.
Sometimes, after heartbreak, all you want is to piece your life back together. So you do it on autopilot — you scrub the floors, fold the clothes, iron, cook, work, tick off your tasks. But your hands move while your spirit lingers elsewhere. And when your heart refuses to come back, your body starts to speak — in aches and whispers, in sickness, in exhaustion that no nap can cure. It’s your soul tapping you on the shoulder: Come back. Be here. And even when you heal, you’re never quite who you were before. Showing up feels like labor.
Maybe that’s the truth we miss — that being fully alive, present, breathing in this messy world, is work. Especially when grief clings like a ghost. Especially when the memories cut too deep, when you ache for the one you loved most, who now sits at the feet of God.
This, too, is holy ground. This is healing — slow, imperfect, a road we all must walk sooner or later.
Funny, isn’t it? When we’re young, we wonder why some people are so bitter, so closed off, so cold to the light. We don’t see the battles inside them — how their kindness went into hiding because life kept bruising it. There’s a tender soul inside every hardened shell. But pain, debt, heartbreak, betrayal — they carve people into shapes we don’t always recognize. Some find the strength to do the inner work, to patch up the cracks. Others can’t. Some don’t have the time or the money or the love they need to begin.
It makes sense now — why some mothers work themselves into the ground without a word of complaint, why they carry mountains of regret they never speak of. Every weary face hides a sea of tears and a mountain of stories left untold.
There’s a time for everything — for youth and laughter, for confusion and chaos, for unexpected blessings and unthinkable losses. Life never lets you stand still for long — good things come, bad things follow, and sometimes the best moments are tangled up with grief.
We can’t outsmart it. There are no shortcuts, no cheats to skip the ache. But thank God for the gifts hidden in this fragile existence — the belly laughter, the memories that warm you on cold nights, the courage to keep loving even when it hurts.
So let’s be gentle with each other. Let’s remember that beneath every age, every face, every stoic smile, a soul is fumbling through this maze, learning and unlearning, trying to find its way back home.
And don’t let grief twist your love into something selfish. Don’t hold anger in your chest for those who have gone before you, wishing they’d stayed longer, longing so hard you forget how to live. We have to grow into the truth: their time here was exactly as long as it needed to be. They gathered every lesson they were meant to learn, gathered every sunrise and tear and laugh that was written in their story.
Now they’re with the souls who once filled their hearts with joy — parents, grandparents, old friends whose laughter they’d missed for so long. They’ve crossed into that beautiful realm we cannot yet see, where the spirit roams free, where no goodbye ever comes too soon.
One day, when our own journey winds down, we’ll step into that same sacred place, when our moments here are done and our hearts are ready for the wonders God has prepared for us there. There’s a time and a place for all of it, even when now feels confusing and unfair. But even in the haze of grief, God is close. And so are they — our loved ones who’ve gone ahead, still cheering us on from eternity’s edge, urging us to live well, to grow, to rise into the best version of ourselves.
So let’s not cloud that gift with dark thoughts or tangled regrets. Let’s be grateful for every heartbeat we shared, every moment that stitched us together. They’re not really gone — they live inside us, woven into our laughter and our memories. And we carry them forward, always, like a light we hold in the quietest part of our hearts.
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