Welcome back to Soft Days Collective, friend.
Come in, unclench your jaw, take a few deep breaths, and let yourself settle into the moment for a while. Listen to the wind outside your window, the hum of your home, the softness of simply existing. There is no expectation of you here. You do not have to perform, produce, or pretend. You can take the mask off and just be.
As we move into the shortest long week of the year after Memorial Day weekend, I wanted to take a moment to share a few pieces of mine. I promise there will be a longer, deeper blog post later this week, but for now I just wanted to pause and reflect on the small things that brought me back to myself.
Going into this weekend, I was running on empty.
Between busy preschool days, burnout, emotional exhaustion, and the general heaviness that can come from caring deeply about what you do, this past month felt incredibly long. Working with tiny humans is something I genuinely love with my whole heart, but passion does not make you immune to exhaustion. Caring for others so fully and so constantly can leave you bone tired.
And in a year-round preschool setting, there is rarely a true pause button. Most days, I spend ten hours with eighteen energetic three-year-olds, moving from one need to the next, pouring from my cup over and over again. The only real quiet moment comes during nap time — and trust me, I work very hard to make sure all eighteen of those sweet little humans nap.
Lately, though, I have felt soul-level tired. The kind of tired that sleep alone cannot fix. The kind that makes you question your purpose for a moment, even when you know deep down you still love what you do.
So this weekend, instead of pushing harder, I chose softness.
I chose rest.
I chose fresh air.
I chose movement without pressure.
I chose moments that made me feel human again.
And slowly, piece by piece, I started finding myself again.
I am walking into this short-long week with a little more lightness in my chest, my nervous system feeling steadier, and a quiet reminder that rest is not something we earn after burnout — it is something we deserve before we reach it.
So here are five small things from this weekend that brought me back home to myself.
1. Yoga
For the first time in three weeks, I rolled out my yoga mat.
It felt less like exercise and more like a reunion. My body was stiff, my balance was questionable, and I absolutely forgot how hard certain poses are when you have been living in survival mode for weeks. But instead of judging myself for it, I simply surrendered to the flow.
No pressure. No expectations. Just movement, breath, and the reminder that my body deserves gentleness too.
And honestly? It felt like my nervous system let out the deepest exhale.
2. Kayaking
I spent hours out on the lake this weekend, paddling through calm water and letting the world slow down around me.
I noticed the budding trees along the shoreline, dipped my hands into the cold water, listened to the quiet rhythm of the paddle against the lake, and allowed myself to simply exist without needing to rush anywhere.
There is something deeply healing about being on the water for me. It reminds me how small I am in the best possible way.
This weekend, I paddled over ten miles, and every single one felt like a little piece of stress leaving my body.
3. Four-Wheeling
I am, admittedly, a secret adrenaline junkie.
There is something wildly freeing about flying down a muddy trail, splashing through puddles, dodging branches, and laughing like a little kid again. It reminded me that joy does not always have to look soft and quiet. Sometimes joy is loud, messy, muddy, and windblown.
And honestly? I needed that too.
4. Campfires & Slow Nights
After a cold spring filled with wildfire smoke, burning restrictions, and endless wind, we were finally able to have our first real campfire of the season.
Which, of course, meant the first official s’more of 2026.
There is something sacred about sitting around a fire on a cool North Shore evening before summer bugs fully arrive. The crackling wood, the smell of smoke in your sweatshirt, the glow of the flames against the trees — it all feels grounding in a way I cannot fully explain.
Campfires have always been where I do my deepest thinking. Where I reflect. Where I reconnect with myself.
This weekend, I let myself sit in the quiet instead of trying to fill it.
5. Gratitude for Home
More than anything, this weekend reminded me how thankful I am for the little corner of the world I call home.
Living seasonally. Watching the shoreline change. Spending time outside instead of endlessly online. Finding joy in simple things like mossy trails, cold lake water, campfire smoke, and fresh air.
The North Shore has healed parts of me that hustle culture never could.
I am incredibly grateful for parents who raised me to respect the environment, slow down enough to notice beauty, and appreciate everything Mother Nature has to offer. I found myself reflecting on that a lot this weekend, and I think there is a deeper conversation there that I want to explore in another post soon.
So stay tuned for that one.
Needless to say, I really needed this long weekend.
My cup is not completely full yet, but it is no longer empty either. And maybe that is enough for now.
This weekend reminded me that soft days are not lazy days. Restful days are not wasted days. Taking care of yourself is not something to apologize for.
Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is step away from the noise long enough to hear ourselves again.
So wherever this finds you — exhausted, overwhelmed, burnt out, hopeful, healing, or somewhere in between — I hope you find a few moments of softness this week too.
Drink the coffee slowly.
Take the long way home.
Watch the sunset.
Move your body gently.
Sit by the water if you can.
And remember: you are allowed to rest without earning it first.