The Longings That Point Me Home

Self‑Mothering Playlist →

There was a time I used to hide my longings.
Like they were weaknesses.
Proof I wasn’t evolved enough.
Like needing anything made me unworthy of having it.

But now I see it differently.
My longings — the quiet ache, the dreams that return when I least expect — they aren’t indulgent.
They’re clues.
Messages from the parts of me still waiting to be met.

---

A loving partner.
To be loved and appreciated.
A career that holds both purpose and provision.
To make enough to care for myself, my son, and still have something to give back.
Justice. Fairness.
Growth. Fulfilment.
Something bigger than me. Something lasting.

These aren’t just hopes.
They’re expressions of valid needs.
For connection.
For meaning.
For contribution.
For love — not the surface kind, but the kind that sees you all the way through.

---

And maybe the most important shift is this:

I’ve stopped seeing my longings as evidence that something’s wrong with me.
I’ve started seeing them as evidence that something’s right.

Because if I didn’t long for more, I would’ve given up a long time ago.
And I didn’t.
I still haven’t.

And that says something.

---

I think many of us have learned to mute these inner signals.
To settle.
To shrink.
To wear “gratitude” like a muzzle when the soul is crying out for something more honest, more real, more true.

But I want to honour them now.
The quiet prayers.
The deep hunger.
The part of me that believes life can be rich and whole and sacred — not just bearable.

---

So I’m listening.

Not chasing. Not forcing.

But listening —
to what my longings reveal
about the life I’m ready to live.

And that…
feels like coming home.

---