When the Light Feels Far Away

Tonight I’m sitting in front of the fire, letting the flames speak to me. Blue, orange, yellow—each color moving with its own rhythm, each one reminding me that light never disappears. It flickers, it shifts, it hides behind smoke, but it’s always there.

I found myself imagining that this flame lives inside me too—that even on days like today, when heaviness sits in my bones, there is still something bright within me. A small spark refusing to go out.

My body is tired. My mind feels scraped thin, like I spent the whole day fighting a losing battle. And once the house quiets down, that inner wheel starts spinning:
Is it a vitamin deficiency? Am I depressed? Is this just the seasonal transition?

But when I look back at the fire, really look, another truth rises:

I don’t feel worthy.

There it is. Not pretty, not poetic—just raw. This belief that because I’m not bringing in money right now, I’m bringing nothing to the table. That my value is somehow tied to what the world can measure.

And yet if a friend came to me saying the same thing? I’d grab her shoulders and say, “What the actual hell—wake up. Look at everything you’re doing.” Because raising little humans while trying to untangle your own patterns and wounds… it’s not nothing. It’s not small. It’s some of the hardest soul work a person can do.

THIS. SHIT. IS. HARD.
Say it again for the ones whispering it to themselves in the dark.
THIS. SHIT. IS. HARD.

And honestly, if it were easy… would the rewards carry the same weight? Would the softness, the breakthroughs, the moments of connection feel as sacred?

Maybe I am making parts of this harder on myself. Maybe I’m not. I don’t have the answers. What I do know is that this dance—the one between healing and parenting, growing and unraveling—is exhausting and holy all at once.

So tonight I ask myself, How can I end this day with something true?

Gratitude.
Today I showed up for myself. I actually played with my kids—really played. I let my inner child breathe for a moment. We wrestled in the grass, rode bikes, drew with chalk, and let the day be messy and alive.

And now I’m asking… how do I bring more of that into my life?
More play.
More presence.
Less circling in my head and more freedom to just be.

A deep breath fills my lungs.

You did good, my love.
Even on the days when the light feels far away, you did good.

In Peace, Love and Service,
Rebecca