Come home to your body

Your mind can leave the room for hours. Your body doesn’t. It waits with a tight jaw, a skipped lunch, a breath held as if someone is about to ask you a hard question.

Come back the way water comes back to a pool. No drama. Unclench. Drink. Feel the weight of your own hands.

This isn’t a project. You don’t owe anyone a better body by Friday. You owe this one a little honesty: I live here. I won’t treat the house like a stranger.

If the body is in pain, or if food and rest have become a war, this page is only a door. Help is for the rest. Start with one kind return.