✧ HER STORY — The Collective Thread

You were not born separate, though that’s the story many of us inherited. You were born into a lineage of women who were wise, and wild, and silenced — women who once knew how to move in rhythm with the earth, who read the seasons in their bodies and the sky like scripture, who passed down songs instead of symptoms. But across generations, that wisdom was forgotten, distorted, made dangerous. What they passed on was not wrong — it was survival. It was what they had to carry in order to live.

They taught you how to be good before they taught you how to be whole. How to hold it all together — the house, the children, the grief, the fear — before anyone showed you how to listen to the parts inside you that had gone numb from bracing. You learned to be competent. To be grateful. To smile. To serve. You learned to perform resilience even as your nervous system quietly fractured beneath the weight of all that was unspoken.

But buried beneath the silence lives another thread — older than fear, older than patriarchy. A rhythmic knowing passed not through instruction, but through bone memory. It stirs when you’re still, when you walk into the forest alone, when you stop performing strength and finally let yourself be seen. This knowing doesn’t arrive as an answer, but as a return — to instinct, to self, to source.

And when you feel it — that low hum of recognition, that flicker of warmth in your belly or ache behind your ribs — you are remembering. Not a thought, but a sensation. Not a strategy, but a homecoming.

This page is for that part of you. The one who never left. The one who has been waiting at the edge of your awareness, watching patiently, holding the thread of your story — not the one you were handed, but the one you came here to write.

Perhaps you’ve tried it all. The therapy. The books. The language of healing that lives in the mind but doesn’t yet breathe in the body. And still — something loops. Still — something in you whispers, this isn’t all of me.

That whisper is sacred. It is the call of the wild soul. It is the beginning of return.