Soul care is what you give yourself when self-care ain’t deep enough.
It’s not just bubble baths and break days—it’s breathwork for your becoming.
It’s tending to the parts of you that don’t scream,
but whisper,
“I’m tired,”
“I miss me,”
or
“Please don’t forget who I was before the world got to me.”
Soul care is the way we root ourselves in truth.
It’s ancestral balm.
It’s you—making altars out of your art,
and rituals out of rest.
It’s sacred slowness.
Unlearning urgency.
Choosing softness over survival.
Soul care says:
“Girl, your healing isn’t optional.
Your joy is your birthright.
And your peace? That’s non-negotiable.”
It’s the playlist you made just to cry to.
The way you pour truth into a journal and call it church.
The coloring page that held you together when the world didn’t.
It’s sacred work. Quiet rebellion.
And sometimes? It’s just going to bed without apologizing.
Soul care is a return.
A reckoning.
A reclamation.
It’s how we hold space for our whole selves—
Not just the curated parts.
Not just the cute parts.
But the cracked-open, crown-carrying, shadow-kissing truth of us.
It’s not about becoming someone new.
It’s about remembering who you’ve always been.
jaha
