🕯️ How I'm Reclaiming My Voice

There was a time when I didn’t even realize my voice had gone quiet. I thought staying small was being kind. I thought silence was peacekeeping. But somewhere along the way, I started to lose myself in the noise of other people’s expectations — and in the quiet corners where I tucked away my truth.

Lately, through shadow work, tea-stained journal pages, and tear-filled honesty, I’ve started hearing my own voice again. She’s soft, yes — but not weak. She’s tired of whispering only to herself. She’s learning that she matters, that her feelings have weight, and that she is not a burden.

Reclaiming my voice looks like:

• Saying “no” even when I’m scared to disappoint someone.

• Speaking about things that matter to me — even if I shake doing it.

• Sharing my truth in this blog, one vulnerable post at a time.

• Not shrinking to make others more comfortable.

• Allowing my words to be imperfect, but real.

Every time I write something raw, every time I speak up when I want to hide — it’s a quiet act of rebellion. A spell of self-worth. A declaration that I am here. I matter. I am allowed to take up space.

This is one of the biggest and hardest goals I have — to truly not give a shit what others think or do. To not mold myself for someone else’s comfort. I am worthy of the space I take up. Everything I do in life is important and special to me — and that is enough. That is good enough for me.

So here I am, practicing not shrinking. Practicing being seen. Practicing using my voice — even when it trembles.

If you’re doing the same… I see you. Speak up. You're allowed to take up space too.

Rooted, rising, and reclaiming my voice,

🌙✨ Blessed be,

Bobbi Ann.