Self Care - Two Trees and a Piece of Fabric…

When people talk about self-care, I think we all pretend we know what we’re doing. Like it’s something you can bullet-point: drink more water, download a meditation app, romanticize your Tuesday.

But for me, self-care isn’t a list—it’s a pause.

It’s finding two trees. Not just any trees. The right trees. The kind that are spaced just-so, offering enough shade and just enough privacy. Trees that make my body whisper, this is it.

I string up my hammock—my emotional support fabric, my rest ritual, my traveling therapist—and I let myself be still. I’ve hung it behind old churches, between forgotten fence posts, in ghost-town groves and roadside wilderness. Every single time, the moment I climb in, something inside me unclenches.

The world doesn’t get quiet. I get quiet.

In that stillness, I write. I journal. I scribble out dreams and heartbreaks and questions I don’t have answers to yet. Writing is how I make sense of what I’m feeling when it’s all tangled up inside. Sometimes it’s poetry. Sometimes it’s a grocery list that turns into a prayer.

This is my version of self-care. It’s messy and imperfect and deeply sacred.

It’s not always glamorous. It doesn’t sell well on Instagram.

But it works.

Because I’ve learned that I don’t need a five-star retreat or a spa weekend to take care of myself. I need:

• Two trees

• A hammock

• A journal

• And permission to be human.

And more often than not, that’s enough.

Try it. I dare you 🥰🥰