Tag: MakeRoom

  • Healing: A Season of Solitude

    The Journey of Journaling

    There are seasons in life when healing doesn’t arrive with a clear roadmap. There are no ten steps, no quick formulas, no perfectly outlined path back to ourselves. Instead, healing often arrives quietly—through awareness, compassion, and the courage to sit with our own hearts.

    Recently, while waiting for my daughter in a parking lot, I opened my journal and wrote the following:

    “My body spoke to me: rest. I woke up and decided against attending church. I snacked on fruit and nuts while I completed notes. I took a 2-hour nap. I awoke rested.

    I took a photo of the sunflower in my vase catching the sunlight.

    Loving thing to remember: I am loveable. This season of solitude is healing. I miss his presence, the comfort he gave. I am better than ok.

    When I read those words again later, I realized something important: healing had already begun before I ever tried to “figure it out.”

    Listening Instead of Fixing

    In a culture that often pushes us to move quickly through discomfort, solitude can feel like something we must escape or rush through. But sometimes the most honest thing we can do is pause long enough to listen.

    On that particular day, my body asked for rest. Instead of overriding the signal, I honored it. I skipped church, completed the work that needed my attention, ate something simple, and allowed myself a nap.

    That decision wasn’t dramatic or heroic. It was simply attentive.

    Healing often begins in these quiet moments—when we stop trying to control the process and start listening to what our bodies and spirits need.

    The Beauty That Returns

    Light & Shadows ✨

    What surprised me most about that day wasn’t the rest. It was the moment of beauty.

    I found myself taking a picture of a sunflower sitting in a vase, illuminated by sunlight. It wasn’t an extraordinary scene, yet something about the light felt warm and alive.

    When our hearts begin to heal, we start noticing small beauty again. Light through a window. A quiet moment. The stillness of a flower catching the sun.

    These small recognitions are not trivial; they are signs that the nervous system is settling and the heart is slowly reopening.

    Holding Multiple Truths

    Another realization came as I reread my journal entry: healing doesn’t require us to deny what we feel.

    I wrote honestly that I miss his presence and the comfort he once gave. Missing someone does not mean we are broken or moving backward. It simply means the connection mattered.

    At the same time, I affirmed something equally important:

    I am loveable.

    This season of solitude is healing.

    I am better than ok.

    Healing with an open heart means allowing multiple truths to coexist. We can miss someone and still move forward. We can feel tenderness for the past while choosing a healthier future.

    Solitude Is Not Emptiness

    A season of solitude is often misunderstood as loneliness or isolation. In reality, it can be a sacred space where clarity and self-respect deepen.

    Solitude gives us the room to ask gentle questions:

    What does my body need right now? What does peace feel like in my life? What kind of love truly aligns with my values?

    These questions do not demand immediate answers. They simply invite awareness.

    Healing Is Not a Checklist

    There is a temptation to treat healing as a set of steps: forgive, move on, start again. But real healing rarely unfolds so neatly.

    Instead, it grows through:

    Compassion for ourselves when we feel vulnerable.

    Forgiveness, not as a forced act but as a gradual softening of the heart.

    Awareness of our needs, boundaries, and inner wisdoms.

    When we allow healing to unfold naturally, it becomes less about fixing ourselves and more about rediscovering ourselves.

    An Open Heart in a Quiet Season

    That short journal entry reminded me that healing does not always announce itself with grand breakthroughs. Sometimes it appears as rest, sunlight, and the quiet affirmation that we are still worthy of love.

    A season of solitude is not a pause in life. It is a period of listening, growing, and becoming more deeply rooted in who we truly are.

    And from that place, love—healthy, stable, reflective love—has a way of finding us again.

    Until then, we keep listening to the small, wise voice within that says:

    Rest.

    Notice the light.

    Remember—you are loveable.

    I encourage you to trust this part of too.

    Being brave,

    Michelle 🌿

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Snowed In on a Sunday: Expectancy, Stillness, and the Grace of Pausing

    After the Storm 2026

    There is something sacred about a Sunday when North Carolina snow is expected. Not the dramatic, blizzard kind— but the kind that slows the roads, quiets the neighborhood, and gently insists: stay in.

    The kind that turns errands into cancellations and plans into permission. For me, Snow in NC carries expectancy. We watch the sky. We check the forecast more than once. We listen for the hush that comes right before it begins.

    And when it finally falls, everything feels muted— as if the world itself is holding its breath.

    Being snowed in on a Sunday feels different. It’s not confinement; it’s an invitation. To pause without explanation. To rest without productivity attached. To be still without feeling behind.

    The snow does what Sundays were always meant to do— slow us enough to notice ourselves again. There’s no rushing out the door. No pressure to make the most of the day.

    Just warm rooms, familiar quiet, and the gentle rhythm of time stretching instead of tightening.

    In the stillness, expectancy shifts. It’s no longer about what’s coming next— but about what’s already here.

    What we’ve been carrying. What we’ve been ignoring. What our bodies and spirits have been asking for all along. Snow has a way of leveling everything. Covering the noise. Softening the edges.

    Reminding us that rest is not laziness—

    it’s alignment. And maybe that’s the gift of being snowed in on a Sunday: the realization that pausing is not a detour from life, but a return to it.

    A reminder that God often speaks in the quiet.

    That clarity doesn’t always arrive with movement. That some seasons require us to stop long enough to feel what’s true.

    So today, let the snow fall. Let the world wait. Let your nervous system settle. Let Sunday be Sunday again.

    There is grace in the pause. There is wisdom in the stillness. There is expectancy even here. Especially here. 🌿❄️🌿

    Remain Brave,

    Michelle

    Closing Reflection

    As the snow settles and the world grows quiet,

    ask yourself—

    What am I being invited to pause from right now?And what part of me has been waiting for this stillness to finally speak?

    You don’t have to rush the answer. Let it rise slowly, like snowfall— unannounced, unforced, enough.

    Soft Scripture

    “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” ~Psalm 4:8

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • Healing: Necessary Work

    I know I haven’t blogged in awhile. As this world continues to be lopsided, broken and undergoing intense psychological warfare on Humanity; I find myself consistently in a weird wounded type of movement. Open, learning, yearning yet not passive nor suppressed….Defiantly Intimate.

    The Process of Unlearning

    Since last post, I completed my required 3000 hours under my deadline goal of two years—I completed them in 18 months. I have submitted my application for approval for full licensure. I have improved my selfcare with purchasing fresh flowers for my home, just because I like the idea of them. Even with this quarantine, I remain available for my children, my grandchild and my patients. I’ve tried to date….men are exhausting. That’s a whole other ordeal. #MyLife

    Living Black does not leave me disconnected from any of the News, the headlines, the atrocities. Racism, the hate isn’t new. The resurgence of the Black Movement is painful, magnetic, intense and divinely necessary. This is more than a moment. Do your work, you matter. #SystemicAwareness

    I want to write about the process in healing. When healing, you’re not moving pass it. You’re moving through it. Healing requires acknowledgment before insight and foresight are gifted. How are we to reconcile when the hurt is not recognized? This is where its not about “how you made me feel” takes root but rather having the capacity to self-advocate with, “You hurt me.”

    I understand that we do not like conflict. Yet, it is divinely irresponsible to limit the pathways toward your healing. This is where you begin your work. We tend to rationalize reaching down or reaching backward for the very same systems, person or people that broke us.

    Be willing to overturn and unlearn systems that benefit from the crushing of Humanity: WE are a powerful people. Good wins; it should. Allow people to leave when emotional maturity is lacking, when spiritual identity becomes foggy, distant, unreciprocated. Give space —huge amounts of space to those who are incapable of making room for you. Move differently. You are worthy of healing.

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

    Writer’s Favorite Work: Lion’s Den and the vulnerability of Belief is one of my greatest written work to date. Take a read or re-read.

  • Post Thanksgiving: Gratefulness

    I’ve always loved Thanksgiving. They were huge for me; I have a huge family and love was indicated, felt whether it was what you needed or not. I laugh now, isolation was never an issue. I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters. I am a middle child. Our parents are now deceased and as the years go by their physical presence …the want to hear and be with them on this day in particular intensifies. Life has a way of giving us what we need the most and lovingly reminds us why we were in need of that something or someone.

    The days after #Thanksgiving, I believe should be of recovery time; moments of healing. I pray your time after is that of gratefulness, without guilt. I pray that the tinge of loneliness, if any encourages you to create a new tradition or make that call to a friend. Do not dismiss the power of extending grace. #MoveForward

    http://borninprovidence.com Please check out her “Friends-Giving” post. Working w/E on our Self-Care Strategies for the Holidays was and continues to be an exemplary example of two therapists’ heart. What I learned while working with her— listening to her is that she is an unproblematic enthusiasts and a genius in her field. She loves what she does and oh what a giving heart. Here are a few personal takeaways from our Zoom collaboration:

    • Life is better shared, yet when we’re not open to sharing its more than okay to self-advocate what you need with grace.
    • Intimacy is to be treasured not out of self-created responsibilities. We don’t have to feel less than to not be a part of something that’s become so difficult.
    • When the opportunity arises Choose Yourself More. Trust when the need for implementing healthy boundaries is necessary. Learn and continue to learn what that looks like for you. Consistency is often underrated.

    As December storms itself into our lives, I am certain there will be more storms that will impede on my pathway of gratefulness. E and I will have another Holiday Zoom Live December 21. We will discuss wellness for those facing Transitions. Please reach out to either one of us if you have a topic of transition or change you would like us to touch on. We enjoy you!

    What I am sure of…grief gets complex and there are different aspects to every transition. I think that gratitude is a state of mind, a divine guide towards our more. I am grateful, knowing that when I accept my blessings and when I am receptive of grace has brought me exactly where I am—at peace. You’re not wrong when you choose yourself with grace.

    “Most decisions don’t require extensive research…It takes a considerable amount of self-awareness and self-control to resist the temptation.” ~Gretchen Rubin

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle