It’s never too late…

A little note I came across on my phone today. I think that there’s something quite beautiful and heartbreaking about that realisation happening later in life.

Especially since I spent decades being hard on myself.

I remember the first time I was really kind to myself, well at least in a way that I noticed. I was giving myself a little facial lymphatic massage. While I was doing it, I realised how tender I was being and for some reason it just occurred to me that I was being kind to myself, in a nurturing way, taking care of myself.

It’s a little sad that at 60, I find myself only now understanding the quiet importance of small acts of self directed kindness. A warm cup of tea, a slower day, a softer inner voice. Allowing myself peace, and for perhaps the first time, genuinely