🌿 What I’m Learning About Myself This Month

 A Soft Reflection from the End of June

Okay, so let’s be real—June got a little heavy.

I don’t think I fully realized how much some of this stuff had been weighing on me until I started writing about it honestly. Until I gave myself the space to say it out loud—to name it.

And once I started, it kind of cracked something open.
Because these things? The queerness, the body image, the grief of growing up and trying to hold onto softness in a world that demands so much?
It turns out I had a lot more to say than I thought.

And I wasn’t prepared for just how vulnerable writing all this would make me feel.
But I’m determined to stay honest and keep things very real to my experience.
So… vulnerable is here to stay.

🌈 Queerness Can Be Quiet

Writing about queerness this month stirred up more than I expected.
I talked about being bi/demi in a relationship that’s often read as straight, and how that invisibility can make you feel like you don’t fully belong anywhere. And honestly? Saying that out loud felt scary. But it also felt necessary.

I’ve been sitting with what it means to be quietly queer.
To not wave a flag every day, but still move through the world in a way that’s deeply shaped by identity. To celebrate Pride not with a parade, but by dressing in what makes me feel good, supporting other queer creators, showing up for my chosen family, and refusing to shrink into someone else’s idea of who I’m “allowed” to be.

Queerness isn’t one thing. It doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.
You don’t have to be visible to be valid.
You can be soft and subtle and still so deeply part of this community.

🕶️ Summer Doesn’t Have to Be a Performance

I spent a lot of this month thinking about what summer used to feel like—and what it feels like now.

As a kid, summer meant freedom. Long days, no plans, spontaneous adventures. Now, it mostly means trying not to melt in a high-rise office while watching the sunset through a sixth-floor window. It means working around schedules, laundry piles, electric bills, and the occasional existential crisis about “making the most” of a season I barely have time to feel.

And underneath all that? The pressure to look like summer.

To be glowing, toned, tan. To post something aesthetic. To prove you’re doing summer right.
And if you’re not? It can start to feel like you’re doing something wrong.

But here’s what I’ve been trying to hold onto:
Summer doesn’t have to be a performance. It doesn’t need to be documented or curated or justified. It’s not reserved for influencers or vacationers or people with more flexible schedules.

It’s still mine.
Even if I’m spending it in between work shifts and grocery runs.
Even if I’m wearing bike shorts because I hate how denim feels when I’m sweating.
Even if I’m not doing anything “special.”

Summer gets to be mine in the small moments I claim for myself.
And that’s enough.

🩵 Taking Up Space in This Body
This month, I also wrote about body image—specifically what it means to exist in a midsize body at the intersection of summer, social media, and toxic beauty standards that just won’t die.

Because let’s be honest: it’s loud out there right now.
The return of “heroin chic.” The pressure to shrink. The whisper campaigns disguised as “wellness.” The constant marketing of products meant to fix things that were never broken in the first place.

It’s exhausting. And sometimes, it gets in my head—even though I know better.

So I decided to write from that place. Not to offer answers, but to carve out some room. To say: yes, it’s hard. yes, it’s unfair. yes, you’re still worthy.
To remind myself (and anyone else who needed it) that softness is not shameful. That our bodies are not trends. That taking up space—physically, emotionally, spiritually—is not something to apologize for.

I’m not always confident.
But I am committed to being kind to myself.
To showing up for my body even when it’s bloated or tired or breaking out.
To wearing what feels good instead of what flatters.
To celebrating movement for how it makes me feel, not how it makes me look.

I’m still learning.
Still unlearning.
Still choosing softness over shame.
And that counts.

🧘‍♀️ Rest Isn’t Laziness

Back in April, I wrote about building a routine that feels like home—one that’s flexible, personal, and rooted in care rather than productivity. And now, a couple months later, I’m starting to realize just how radical that kind of structure really is.

Because the world doesn’t exactly reward rest.
It doesn’t want you to pause.
It wants you to hustle, even when your body is screaming for stillness.

But I’ve learned that rest isn’t the opposite of discipline—it is discipline.
Resting on purpose. Slowing down on purpose. Saying no thank you to burnout.

Some days, rest looks like a full sleep-in and letting the laundry wait.
Some days, it’s walking my dog slowly around the block instead of squeezing in a workout.
Some days, it’s journaling with coffee instead of diving straight into my to-do list.

Rest, for me, is learning how to take care of myself without trying to earn it.
It’s letting my body exist without pressure.
It’s choosing softness over shame.
It’s remembering that I don’t have to prove my worth by being busy.

I’m not trying to perfect my life.
I’m just trying to live it—gently, mindfully, and at a pace I can actually sustain.

🌙 Still Growing, Still Here

June brought a lot to the surface.
Things I didn’t realize I needed to say. Things I didn’t expect to feel so deeply.
But I’m glad I said them anyway.

Because the truth is, I don’t have everything figured out.
I’m still learning what queerness looks like in my everyday life.
Still learning how to exist in my body without shame.
Still learning how to rest, how to show up, how to build routines that don’t break me.

I’m still learning how to live—softly, honestly, in my own timing.

If you’re here, still figuring it out too… you’re not behind.
You’re not broken.
You’re just a person in motion. And that’s a beautiful thing.

If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear what June taught you.
What did you learn about yourself this month?

This week’s mantra:
“I’m allowed to keep growing at my own pace.”