You Don’t Have to Carry It All
Let the Practice Live in You
Recently, I had a day where I completely fell apart.
I had been showing up for everyone—my clients, my students, my community—holding space, offering care, trying my best to be a steady presence while so much in the world feels uncertain. But underneath all of that giving, I was holding something else: a quiet ache.
The ache of not feeling seen.
Of wondering if what I’m offering really matters.
Of trying so hard to hold others up… and feeling like I was disappearing in the process.
And, if I’m honest, and wondering, too, if the business I’ve poured my heart into will even make it through this political turmoil.
That day, it all caught up to me. I was standing at the kitchen sink, and when a dish slipped from my hands and shattered, I did too. Not because of the dish, but because that one moment made everything I’d been carrying come crashing to the surface. The tears came fast and full. I felt fragile. I felt alone.
And yet—I didn’t run from it.
I didn’t try to be “strong.” I didn’t pull myself together.
I leaned on the counter, closed my eyes, placed a hand over my heart, and whispered to myself:
"You don’t have to carry this alone. You are doing your best. Come back to your breath. Come back to your heart."
That moment wasn’t polished or peaceful. It wasn’t a meditation or a healing session. It was messy, human, and true.
And that’s exactly what made it sacred.
That is sacred strength.
Not something we perform.
But something we return to—especially when we’re cracked open.
And even in that raw, tearful moment, a quiet truth rose to the surface:
This is why I do what I do.
Because I know what it feels like to hold it all.
To feel invisible in your giving.
To be the one holding space, while quietly wondering if anyone is holding you.
And I also know that within all of us—yes, even in the hardest moments—is a well of resilience, love, and truth we can come home to.
That is the strength I return to.
And that is the strength I offer back to others, again and again.
The Integration Is the Practice
It’s easy to feel strong during a sound bath. Or centered on the mat. Or clear after a meditation.
But what about when the phone rings, the kids need you, the to-do list explodes, the news delivers another gut-punch, or the world throws you something completely unexpected?
That’s where sacred strength meets life.
It’s in the pause before you speak sharply.
It’s in the breath you take before reacting to bad news.
It’s in the moment you choose kindness toward yourself instead of self-criticism.
It’s not about being perfect.
It’s about remembering what you’ve learned—
And letting it live in your body, your breath, your choices.
Embodying What You've Grown Into
This week’s theme is not an ending, but a transition.
As we approach the end of the month, we’re asked to not just reflect on sacred strength, but to embody it.
To let it inform how we move through the world, in both our light and our shadows.
Embodying sacred strength means…
Letting balance guide your pace, even in busy seasons.
Returning to presence when you feel disconnected.
Softening into compassion when your inner critic flares up.
Trusting that what you’ve practiced isn’t lost—it’s inside you, waiting to be lived.
A Gentle Invitation
As we move through this week, I invite you to consider:
How has sacred strength begun to take root in you?
Where in your life is it asking to be expressed—not as something you “do,” but as something you are becoming?
What reminders will help you return to it when life pulls you away?
You don’t need to have it all together.
You only need to return—to your breath, your heart, your truth.
That’s what it means to embody sacred strength.
Not as a performance—but as a quiet knowing.
A steady presence.
A lived expression of the wisdom you’ve cultivated.
With love and grace on your path,
💙 Deb
🎧 Prefer to listen instead?
You can hear me share this story and reflection aloud in my audio talk here.