🕊 Room Service No. 03: The Soft Return

You didn’t disappear.

You learned how to move through the world without being fully inside yourself.
You learned how to be capable.
You learned how to be recognized.

You became someone the world would recognize.

And somewhere along the way,
you stopped recognizing you.

This week isn’t about becoming anything new.
It’s about noticing the quiet pull inward—the one that doesn’t demand, doesn’t perform, doesn’t rush.

The soft return is rarely dramatic.
It’s the moment you realize you’ve been standing just outside yourself…
and choose to step back in.

We’re often taught to listen outward.
To adjust.
To refine.
To keep going.

But what is the point of being loved by the world
if you can’t meet your own reflection
without looking away?

The soft return begins there.

Not with answers.
With honesty.

This is not a test.
It’s a pause.

Choose a quiet moment—nothing ceremonial.
A mirror if it’s nearby. If not, a breath will do.

Place one hand where you can feel yourself breathing.
Stay still long enough for the noise to pass.

Then ask, gently:

“Is there more to me than what I’ve been showing?”

Don’t force an answer.
Let the body respond first.

A warmth.
A tightness.
A sudden sense of oh.

Or… nothing at all.

Stay for a few breaths longer than habit allows.
Let yourself be met—or simply noticed.

If nothing opened yet, that doesn’t mean you failed.
It means something in you is still protecting what matters.

There are seasons when turning inward feels unsafe—
especially when someone else has hurt us,
especially when accountability was never given,
especially when shame feels heavier than hope.

If this is where you are, you are not doing this wrong.

You are surviving.

The door does not close because you walk away.
It stays where it is.

I want to say something honestly.

In the past, I’ve tried to give myself timelines—
finish this by then, heal that by now, become her soon.

And every time, it chipped away at trust.
At my own pace.
At my own voice.

So I’m not giving dates for what’s coming next.

Not because it isn’t real—
but because I want what I offer to be trustworthy.

The longer Ritual of Return is unfolding quietly now, and it will be ready when it’s ready.
Not rushed.
Not forced.

I don’t want to lead you somewhere I’m not willing to walk myself.

We’re learning this together—
how to listen,
how to wait,
how to return without abandoning ourselves again.

Until next time,
may your return be soft,
your pace be honest,
and your presence feel like something you can trust.

🕊
Room Service will return soon.