Dear ,

Happy Mother’s Day—no matter how this day finds you.

Whether your heart feels full, fragile, or somewhere in between, please know this:

You are seen.

You are loved.

You matter.

Today felt different for me.

Tender. Raw. Brave.

I’ve been carrying so much—grief, love, exhaustion, and a fierce kind of devotion that has no off switch when you're mothering a child through deep struggle.

But this year, something inside me whispered:

It’s time to turn some of that love inward.

So I did.

The Soft, Fierce Return to Myself

This week has been unlike any I’ve ever lived.

Heavy with grief.

Full of quiet courage.

And laced with the kind of sacred self-love that blooms only in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been mothering my child through the hardest season of his life—advocating fiercely, holding space, and loving him through moments that broke me open. He’s now in treatment, safe, and being supported by others, which brought an unexpected wave of grief: the pain of letting go, even just a little.

For a while, I was floating.

Barely sleeping.

Crying often.

Carrying a heart that ached in every direction.

And then, one quiet night, something inside me whispered:

It’s time to advocate for you, too.

So I did.

I made a simple batch of bath salts—Epsom salt, baking soda, sea salt, and a few drops of lavender. I lit candles, poured a bath, and put on a guided meditation. It was about tending to the inner well—drinking from your own life spring. Something in me cracked open in the most healing way.

That night, I slept.

That night, I let go.

That night, I began again.

I’ve been listening—to my body, my spirit, and my inner child.

I learned a word that landed deeply: Sabr—patience not as passivity, but as sacred strength

A reminder that the journey I’m on—of grief, healing, and self-mothering—requires time, compassion, and grace.

And I’ve been releasing:

✨ The need to people please

✨ The guilt around resting

✨ The belief that I need to explain my care to anyone

Yesterday, I said yes to myself—rather than saying yes to obligation.

I took myself out for a flower walk with a neighbor.

I made a beautiful evening cacao with ashwagandha, magnesium, chaga, cinnamon… and for the first time in days, I felt peace rise in my chest.

Later, I got a call from my brave 17 year old child who is in residential treatment right now— for the first time in weeks, he was calm, content, and proud of the cozy beds in his new place. He even went to buy ice cream with his peers. And honestly? That call was the exhale I didn’t know I was holding.

Here’s what I know today:

I am mothered.

By the memory of my mom and grandma.

By the wisdom of my own inner mother.

By the rituals I’m reclaiming, the boundaries I’m setting, and the love I’m offering myself—fiercely, unapologetically, and fully.

If you're walking through something hard too, please let these words reach you:

🌸 You don’t have to earn your rest.

🌸 You don’t have to justify your joy.

🌸 You are already enough.

This is not the end of the story.

This is a soft, fierce return.

To myself.

And maybe… to you, too.

Stay tuned, I’ll be writing to you again in a few days to share something sacred I’ve been creating—something that’s been helping me find peace in the quietest, most magical ways.

Think: roses, stars, and soft whispers from the soul. 🌹✨

More soon...

With all my heart,

Charity