The other day, I found this business card in a small bag of crystals someone had gifted me. Thank you, Noreen. It has had me thinking about it ever since!
Dusting Off My Soul
It doesn’t happen all at once.
There’s no big bang, no choir of angels, no switch flipped. Just this quiet moment, standing still in the middle of your own mess, and realizing: I’m still in here.
Just… buried a bit.
Somewhere along the line, the sparkle dulled. Life layered on its dust, grief, anger, exhaustion, people who drained instead of fed, the silence that followed after the noise. And I let it pile, because I didn’t have the energy to care, or the time to feel, or the words to name what was being lost.
But lately, I’ve been doing something different.
I’ve been walking barefoot in the garden again, even if it’s only for a minute. I’ve picked up my paintbrush, not to create anything brilliant, just to move colour around. I’ve sat in silence, not scrolling, not numbing, just sitting. I’ve said no without explaining myself. I’ve told the truth, gently, even when it trembled in my throat.
And I’ve remembered that healing doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like washing your face with warm water, feeding yourself something real, letting yourself cry without making it a crisis.
I’ve been lighting candles again. Not for anyone else, just for me. Letting the scent drift, letting the flicker calm me. I’ve been cleaning things, yes—but not just the house. I’ve been cleaning out corners of myself I didn’t know were still grieving. Dusting off beliefs that were never really mine. Wiping away guilt that stuck like cobwebs in my chest.
It’s not easy work. And it’s certainly not pretty.
There are days it feels like I’m peeling myself out of a life that no longer fits. Like I woke up one morning and realized I’d been wearing someone else’s clothes, someone else’s story. I’m not angry about it anymore. Just… done.
This isn’t reinvention. I’m not trying to be shiny or new. I don’t want to perform healing. I just want to live closer to who I really am again. The one who existed before the betrayal, before the masks, before the exhaustion of being the “strong one” all the time.
I’m dusting off my soul. Gently. Slowly. Tenderly.
And every day, I’m finding pieces of myself I thought I’d lost. Not gone. Just waiting. Quiet. Patient. Ready to be remembered.
Mae 🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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