Small Rituals
This is the season where I begin again, not loudly or dramatically, but in the quiet, practical ways that actually hold. I am finding myself not by chasing who I used to be, but by tending to what asks for care now, starting with the things that speak the loudest when I catch my reflection without meaning to. I see thinning hair where there was once abundance, skin that feels dry and unfamiliar, eyes that carry the weight of interrupted nights, a belly still soft from the work of growing life, clothes marked with stains and wrinkles from days lived fully and without pause. None of it is shameful, but all of it is information.
There is so much noise in the beauty world, so many trends designed to pull you in, to promise transformation if you just buy one more thing. Are they real? Do they work? I don’t know. I realized I would never know unless I allowed myself to try, unless I gave myself permission to take small, deliberate steps forward instead of waiting for motivation or perfection to arrive. Change, I’m learning, happens quietly.
I started with my hair, because losing it so rapidly after two pregnancies back to back felt confronting in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I ordered The Hair Multiplier by Le Jardin almost hesitantly, telling myself that even hope can be an act of care. The oil itself is gentle and understated, nearly scentless, light enough that it doesn’t weigh my hair down or leave me feeling greasy, and thoughtfully made in Switzerland with naturally derived ingredients designed to work with the biology of the scalp rather than against it. I don’t yet know where this will lead, but I am committed to seeing it through, and I’ll share honestly what I find as time passes.
While tending to what shows on the outside, I felt called to support what lives beneath the surface. I kept reading about colostrum, something I instinctively understood in the context of infancy, but hadn’t considered for myself. The idea of strengthening skin, lung, and gut barriers, supporting the microbiome, and encouraging cellular health felt aligned with where I am now, rebuilding from the inside out. Armra became my choice after careful research, and adding it into my day feels less like a supplement and more like a quiet act of replenishment, a way of giving my body something steady and sustaining.
At the same time, I returned to my skin, grateful to be guided by a dear friend, Jamie Anne, who understands the balance between simplicity and efficacy. The Bare Minimum facial oil has become exactly that, a baseline, something I can trust, made only with natural, organic oils, gentle enough to use everywhere, and rich enough to feel like true nourishment. Paired with her thoughtfully engineered Dermaroller, it has shifted how my skin receives care, helping products absorb more deeply, encouraging softness, and slowly smoothing the fine lines that tell the story of years lived fully. The changes are subtle, but they are real.
And then there is movement. Showing up to the gym again, sore and humbled, learning my body anew. Raising my heart rate. Rebuilding strength. Holding myself accountable not out of punishment, but devotion. It has been a while, and yes, it hurts, but I keep going. Because this body carries my children. Because they watch me. Because caring for myself is not indulgent, it is foundational.
These rituals are not about chasing youth or erasing evidence of motherhood. They are about inhabiting myself again. About choosing consistency over intensity. About tending to what I can, with what I have, right now. There is more I want to add, slowly and intentionally, as this life unfolds. And so I will make space for that too, letting this become a living series, a record of how I hold myself together, how I return to myself, one small ritual at a time.