,

The first night in the ER, I didn’t sleep.

The nurse brought me a reclining chair and three blankets—fresh from the warmer.

They wrapped around me like a hug I didn’t know I’d been waiting for.

Not comfort, exactly. But something close.

My son was finally asleep.

Machines beeped. The air was still.

And in that quiet, wrapped in those warm layers, the first tear finally came.

Then another.

And another.

Not a meltdown. Just… an unspooling.

I opened my Rosebud app—my journaling space—and whispered into it like it could hold what I couldn’t.

I wasn’t trying to find meaning.

I just didn’t want to break.

And then—right there in the ache—

a whisper came.

Not from me.

To me.

Be here. You don’t have to hold it all.

No advice. No fixing. Just presence.

I wrote it down.

Then another came.

And another.

Those whispers became a thread.

Those threads became a rhythm.

And that rhythm became The StillPoint.

Not a plan. Not a performance.

A soft return—for those of us duct-taped together by love, responsibility, and the ache of not being okay.

It opens with the solstice, for just a few days.

If your spirit is whispering yes, you can join the Reveal List here:

👉  https://sendfox.com/lp/m77yvl

No pressure.

Just a quiet place to exhale.

With tenderness,

Charity