Texas Heart Journal | Page 009

I came home from Arizona with a suitcase full of clothes, a phone full of pictures, and a whole lot more on my mind than I left with.

And, of course, laundry.

Because apparently no matter how meaningful an experience is, the laundry is still waiting when you get home. 😂

But somewhere between leaving Arizona, sitting in the airport, and making my way back to everyday life, I started thinking about what it really means to come home.

Not just physically.

But emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Because sometimes you can leave a place, spend a few days doing something completely different, and return to the exact same house, responsibilities, and routines...

And realize you're not quite the same woman who left.

That's been sitting with me.

I recently spent time in Arizona hosting my SELF'ish retreat.

We laughed. We talked. We shared stories. We spent time in Sedona, surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever experienced.

There were moments of reflection.

Moments of laughter that had absolutely nothing to do with anything serious.

Moments when women simply got to be women without having to explain why they needed a little time for themselves.

And somewhere in all of that, I was reminded of something.

Sometimes we need to step outside the life we're living long enough to actually look at it.

Not because something is necessarily wrong.

Not because we need to escape.

But because when you're constantly inside your routine, you don't always recognize what that routine has been asking of you.

You just keep doing it.

You wake up.

You handle what needs handling.

You answer the messages.

You take care of the responsibilities.

You work on the dreams.

You make the decisions.

You figure things out.

And before you know it, another week has passed.

Then another.

And another.

I know that life.

I know what it's like to have things you're building, people you're responsible for, and ideas that don't stop coming just because the day is over.

And I love much of what I do.

That's important to say.

Because this isn't about being unhappy with your life.

You can love your life and still recognize that something needs to change.

You can be grateful for what you have and still want something different.

You can be proud of what you've built and still decide that the way you've been carrying it needs some adjusting.

You can be doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing and still need a little room to hear yourself think.

I think that's what time away can give us.

Perspective.

Not necessarily answers.

Sometimes just enough distance to recognize what we've stopped noticing.

And then comes the interesting part.

You have to go home.

Back to the house.

Back to the emails.

Back to the appointments.

Back to the business.

Back to the responsibilities that didn't disappear while you were gone.

And it's so easy to slip right back into the exact same patterns.

The same schedule.

The same expectations.

The same habit of saying yes before you've even thought about whether you want to.

The same tendency to put yourself at the bottom of the list because everybody and everything else seems to need something.

And before long, that woman who laughed a little louder, breathed a little deeper, and remembered what she wanted begins to feel like somebody you met on vacation.

But here's what I want us to understand.

She wasn't somebody you met.

She was you.

Maybe a little more rested.

Maybe a little less distracted.

Maybe surrounded by people who gave you room to simply be yourself.

Maybe in a place where nobody expected you to have all the answers.

But still you.

And I don't think we should have to travel across the country to give ourselves permission to be that woman.

I don't think joy should require a plane ticket.

I don't think rest should have to be scheduled six months in advance.

And I don't think we should return from meaningful experiences only to pack away everything we discovered about ourselves along with our souvenirs.

That doesn't mean you come home and turn your entire life upside down.

Sometimes the change is much smaller.

Maybe you protect an hour of your morning.

Maybe you stop answering every message immediately.

Maybe you make time for something you enjoy without turning it into another project.

Maybe you start having conversations you've been avoiding.

Maybe you stop agreeing to things that no longer fit the life you're trying to build.

Or maybe you simply begin asking yourself a different question.

Instead of:

What does everybody need from me today?

You start asking:

What do I need to remember about myself today?

Because I think that's where some of the most meaningful changes begin.

Not in the big announcements.

Not in the dramatic decisions.

But in the little moments when you choose not to abandon what you've learned.

And there's something else.

On my way home, I found myself writing a song.

I called it When I Get Home.

It came from thinking about the experience, the women, the journey, and what happens when we return to our everyday lives.

But the song also became something more personal.

A reminder that I don't have to control every mile of the journey.

That I can trust God with the road ahead even when I don't know exactly what it looks like.

That I can appreciate where I've been without needing to stay there.

And that sometimes the most meaningful part of a journey is what you bring back into your life.

Not the pictures.

Not the souvenirs.

The perspective.

The decisions.

The reminders.

The parts of yourself you want to spend more time with.

I've been home long enough now to know that everyday life doesn't wait for us to finish reflecting.

The laundry gets done.

The work begins again.

The calendar fills up.

And life keeps moving.

But I don't want to lose what I brought home with me.

And maybe that's what I want to leave with you today.

You don't have to go to Sedona.

You don't have to attend a retreat.

You don't even have to leave town.

Sometimes all it takes is an afternoon, a conversation, a long drive, a quiet morning, or a moment when you finally stop long enough to recognize something about yourself.

And when that happens, pay attention.

Because the woman who recognizes what she needs, what she values, and what she wants her life to look like deserves more than a temporary visit.

She deserves a place in the life you're living every day.

So when you come home...

When the routine starts calling...

When the responsibilities begin piling up...

When the familiar expectations try to take over again...

Remember what you learned.

Remember what mattered.

Remember how you felt when you gave yourself room to simply be.

You can come home to the same life...

And not be the same woman.

Don't leave her behind.

Bring her home.

And make room for her to stay. 🤎

Texas Heart Journal | Page 009

Latina Roots. Texas Heart. Country Soul.