This week I heard the sound of my own singing voice.

Not in the literal sense—though I do love to sing when no one is home. It was deeper than that. I heard the sound of my own voice as a parent, a partner, and a human working through old wounds with new tools. I heard myself talking to my scared inner child. I heard my protector’s fire. And I heard the part of me that knows how to pause, breathe, and come back home.

Leo stared at me the other night while I had just sat down to read. Just stood there. Staring. I waited, then cracked: “Hi…”

“Hi,” they said.

“You need something? You’re staring at me.”

“I know.”

“Well, it’s awkward.”

“I know, it is awkward.”

Okay, you’ve got me here. So I asked what they needed.

“I’m hungry.”

We were ten steps from the kitchen. I listed dinner options. They rejected all of them and stormed off. My inner dialogue screamed: WTF? I was reading my book!

But I cooked. Bland pasta. Veggies on the side. Just the way they might tolerate. When Leo came back and asked why their bowl looked plain, I told them: You said no to everything, so I made it plain.

They dumped in the veggies.

As they started eating, I tried to open a conversation about the interaction, but before I could, Leo interrupted:

“I know. I thought about it upstairs. I know it was rude to bark at you like that. I’m sorry.”

Gold. Medal. Parenting. Moment.

What was different? I paused. I let the irritation and anger move through me before responding. I saw that none of it had anything to do with me. It touched my old wound: I’m doing it wrong. I’m not enough. But I stayed present. And Leo, in the safety of that openness, came back and repaired. That is everything.

Later in the week, I was upstairs trying to navigate the insurance marketplace (which is a special kind of hell), when Kelly came up and unleashed frustration about the boxes still in the living room.

And there it was again: I’m doing it wrong.

I felt defensive. Hurt. I began spinning inside: I should be doing more. I shouldn’t be in my office. I should have anticipated this.

But instead of reacting, I let her vent. I took a call from Camp Bow Wow (getting the dogs into daycare), finished the appointment, and then moved. Unpacked boxes. Let my body work it out.

That movement helped shift the energy. And then it came: I haven’t done anything wrong. I returned to myself.

Later, Kelly was sitting on the couch, tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said.

I sat beside her and held her. “Thank you.”

That was gold medal #2.

These two moments taught me more than any podcast or parenting book. They showed me what it means to truly hear myself.

Not just my thoughts, but my inner choir:

• The scared child who fears doing it wrong.

• The fierce protector who burns hot and fast.

• The loving parent inside me who says, You didn’t do anything wrong. You are loved. You are enough.

Returning to myself means creating space between stimulus and response. Time. Movement. Breathing room. Let me chew on it, as my dad says. Let me talk to my inner counsel first.

It might look like climbing stairs, unpacking a box, walking the dogs, or just sitting in a bathroom stall breathing. But that space gives me back to myself.

I always thought putting on your oxygen mask first meant taking a bath or reading a book. But I get it now. It’s deeper. It’s about giving oxygen to my soul before I try to offer anything to others.

When I don’t meet my own needs first—when I don’t listen to my own voice—I’m incomplete. I show up distorted, reactive, ungrounded. That isn’t love. That’s fear in disguise.

But when I pause, return, and listen? I show up whole. And that’s when love becomes real.

That’s the sound of my own singing voice. Raw, a little off-key, deeply mine. And honestly? It’s beautiful.

This week’s post comes with some real soul care—extras I created for the part of you that’s trying so hard and doing better than you think. These aren’t cute bonuses. They’re real tools I actually use when I’m spinning, tender, or teetering on the edge of old stories.

Here’s what you’ll get when you become a paid subscriber:

You’ll receive:

• The full Soul Hug audio recording

• A downloadable Soul Hug visual card (PDF)

• A printable Inner Counsel Journal Page

• The Soul Stewardship Toolkit as a downloadable doc or graphic bundle

• And early access to new bonus tools as I make them!

💖 Become a paid subscriber to support this work—and to nourish the parts of yourself that are learning to pause, breathe, and belong.

Because it supports this work. It tells me these stories, truths, and tools matter to you.

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