When the world tries to make you forget your own breath...
#HeartCheck
When the world tries to make you forget your own breath, remember this: you are your own holy ground.
Happy Monday, loves—
I know the air has been thick lately. Wars on screens, whispers of collapse, personal aches that don’t politely pause just because the headlines demand your tears too.
Some of you have been moving through your own private apocalypse long before the rest of the world caught up.
Even amidst my own celebrations, I see you. I feel you.
Let’s not pretend a bubble bath will fix this ache. But tending to the body—your only temple, your only true real estate—will steady the parts of you that want to run away, scream, or go numb.
So here’s what I want to invite you to do this week:
1. Name it to cradle it.
Write down exactly what’s alive in you—rage, fear, weariness, the temptation to shut down completely. Don’t dress it up. No spiritual bypass. Just the raw honest word for the flavor of your grief.
2. Bring water to it.
Just Add Water has always been my secret medicine—ritual baths, herbal steams, prayer teas that wash the spirit when life refuses to let you leave it all behind.
3. Call in your village.
Turn your phone into an altar, not an apocalypse. Text one soul you love. Pray for another. Let yourself be inconveniently human with someone who can hold your wild and tender at the same time. We will not heal in isolation. Not this time.
4. Take your place in the long line of survivors.
You were never built fragile. Your people’s blood testifies to that. When the world spins hard, sit your behind down, brew your roots, speak your ancestors’ names, and trust that what they endured flows as resilience in you too.
I trust you with this reminder:
Chaos will visit. But your nervous system is still yours to tend.
And there is no greater rebellion than staying alive, awake, and well.
Your SelfCareRx:
Call your power back. Everyday. As many times as necessary. Then-
Preorder my new -revised and extended edition of Just Add Water now—get the workbook free, the rituals immediate, and the permission slip to come home to your own body.
Stay unraveled and holy.
—K.