Hey Love,
I want to tell you something today, I want you to read the silence between the verses—the pauses, the breaks, the moments between your thoughts, the unspoken spaces where meaning hides. Not everything important is said out loud. Not every truth is dressed in words. Sometimes, the most important parts of our story aren’t written in words. The most honest parts of us live quietly, tucked between breaths, lingering in the moments we rush past. They show up in how we breathe, how we pause, how we carry ourselves when no one is watching.
You’ve always been someone who listens beyond what’s said. You notice what others miss. You read between the lines. You understand the sigh after a sentence, the hesitation in someone’s eyes, the way their silence can speak volumes. You pick up on the unspoken. You’re someone who listens carefully and sees what people don’t say. That’s your gift. You hold space for others so beautifully. That’s something really special about you.
But I have to ask—are you doing the same for yourself? When was the last time you held space for yourself? Are you listening to your own silence—the kind that lingers when no one’s around? Are you paying attention to the story your own stillness is trying to tell you? Are you paying attention to the parts of you that feel unheard, even by you?
It’s easy to stay busy. It’s easy to focus on other people. It’s even easier to ignore what’s going on inside when you don’t want to face it. But the truth is, healing often starts when you slow down and start listening to your own needs, your own thoughts, your own quiet voice. Sometimes, we get so used to translating others that we forget to translate ourselves. We ignore the heaviness we carry, we brush off the ache behind our smiles. We forget that our own silences deserve to be heard too.
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But here’s the quiet miracle: when you finally listen—really listen—to your own silence, you begin to understand what you need, what you miss, and what you’re ready to let go of. Once you do, something begins to change. The silence that used to feel heavy or confusing starts to feel calm. You don’t feel the need to fill every quiet moment with noise. You don’t feel as restless. You start to feel a little more at ease in your own skin.
So tonight, slow down. Sit with your own verses. Read them gently. Feel the spaces. Listen to what you’re not saying. Because in that quiet place—in the hush between your thoughts—there’s truth. There’s healing. There’s you. And you, my love, deserve to be heard.
Healing starts here, in this sacred stillness. Not in fixing, but in feeling. And as you heal, other things shift too. And then one day, without warning, something shifts. The silence no longer feels like emptiness—it begins to sound like peace. You laugh without bracing for sadness. You wake without dread. You trust your joy, not question it.
You begin to trust yourself more. You stop second-guessing every decision or overthinking every feeling. You feel more grounded. You become more intentional with your time, your energy, and your relationships. You stop trying to prove your worth to people who don’t see it. You start setting boundaries without guilt. You stop chasing closure from the wrong places.
Healing doesn’t mean the past disappears—it means it no longer controls you. The pain loses its sharpness. The memories soften. You stop looking back with regret and start looking forward with quiet hope. You don’t forget what happened, but you’re no longer defined by it. The memories are still there, but they don’t sting the way they used to. You can look back without being pulled under.
And life? It begins to feel new again. Colours seem brighter. Ordinary moments feel holy. You find beauty in the details. You love more gently, more intentionally. You no longer search for meaning in chaos—you create it in calm.
This is the after.
The part that comes once you’ve honoured every ache and held yourself through every silent night. This is where the next chapter begins—not louder, not busier—but lighter. More you. And love, you deserve every bit of that life. Because here’s what happens when you’re truly healed:
You stop running from your reflection. You look in the mirror and recognise yourself, not as the person you once were, not as someone broken or bruised, but someone whole. Someone wise. Someone who made it. You start trusting again—your timing, your instincts, your heart. You don’t settle for half-hearted love or lukewarm joy. You know now that you’re worth the full thing. The kind of love that’s soft and certain. The kind of peace that doesn’t ask you to shrink.
Eventually, you find yourself doing things you didn’t think you’d enjoy again—laughing without worrying about when the happiness will end, looking forward instead of just getting through the day. You start making space for new experiences, new people, new parts of yourself. You make room—for new memories, new people, new possibilities. You stop clinging to old versions of yourself. You stop rehearsing old stories.
Instead, you live. You laugh without checking if it’s safe. You dream bigger because fear doesn’t run the show anymore. You protect your peace, not because you’re afraid to lose it—but because now you know what it cost to earn it. And maybe the world doesn’t notice the change at first. Maybe you still look the same to others. But inside, something has shifted— You are no longer surviving. You are creating. Loving. Becoming.
And that? That’s the quiet revolution of healing. So take your time. Trust your rhythm. Let life unfold. Because the version of you that’s waiting on the other side of this? They are extraordinary. And they are already so proud of how far you’ve come.
And love, you deserve every bit of that life. So when life gets quiet again, remember: this peace? You earned it. Hold it gently.
Always.
—Your quiet reminder. Your Sunshine.
