Soft Return Sunday

When Achievement Masks Our Exhaustion

Something beautiful happened last weekend,
and I only mentioned it briefly in last week’s newsletter.
To be honest with you, I’m like many of you.
There is a bypass when it comes to celebrating ourselves.

We keep moving.
We downplay.
We share it in passing like it’s no big deal.

Our accomplishments are a big deal.

So I decided to pause and take a moment to exhale and celebrate.
To name the moment.
To share my accomplishments, and also to talk a little bit about how we’ve been conditioned not to celebrate ourselves or each other.
How we’ve inherited the belief that joy must be earned.
That rest, pride, and softness only come after the work is done.

But what if that’s the lie?

What if the pause to celebrate is a rest practice?

Here is my pause.
I launched The Soft Return Somatic Flow. A somatic flow practice that I created for Black women to explore and release stress, exhaustion, and racialized trauma through breath, body, and presence. Each of the eight movements in the flow tells a story shaped by survival, softness, and self-love. It’s my way of offering a gentle return to the body, where healing begins and our truth can rise.

It debuted at 614.ABA Studio in Columbus, OH.
You can visit their storefront here to explore their gallery, events, and offerings.
I was worried about ticket sales the night before the event, but when I woke up, the event was nearly sold out—multiple tickets had been purchased while I was sleeping. A reminder that ease, rest, and abundance are deeply connected.

Two days before that, I was announced as a speaker for TEDxKingLincolnBronzeville 2025.The theme is: We Are Seeds: Grounded in Self, Rooted in Community.

My journey to finding my voice and the courage to tell my stories has been nothing short of miraculous.
For years, I masked deep social awkwardness and anxiety.
I performed my way into belonging.
So this moment feels… tender.

To be honest, I’ve been feeling conflicted about sharing it here.

Not because I’m not proud.
But because I’ve been healing from the urge to perform for worthiness.
To share only when I have something “accomplished” to prove I’m enough.

I left social media months ago.
And the desire to post constant updates, events, milestones—it feels like a distant memory. I don’t feel the need to shout out every single achievement. Something inside of me feels calm, settled, at peace.
Many people thrive on social media. The more I healed, the more I realized I was suffocating there. Without trauma fueling the posts, it all started to feel predictable and boring

I guess I’m in a liminal space.
Not quite hiding, but no longer hustling for visibility.
Learning to savor what I used to rush past.
To sit with my joy instead of outsourcing it.
To share it only when it feels sacred and true.

The liminal space where healing meets vulnerability—
I’m learning that one of the most radical things I can do
is admit the truth:
Some of my greatest accomplishments were secretly fueled by trauma.
By white supremacy.
By the ache to prove I was worthy.

I’m learning to release those patterns—one breath at a time.
To step away from social media.
To unlearn systems that taught me to keep producing, achieving, performing—
without pause,
without rest,
without integration,
without celebration,
without joy.

And I know I’m not the only one.
Some of you might feel this too.

So many of us sit at our own celebration dinners,
graduation parties,
baby showers,
milestone moments
numb and exhausted.
The joy barely lands in our bodies.

That’s not freedom.
That’s not healing.
And I want something more for all us.

Rest practice: the radical pause

This isn’t a breath cue or a body scan.
This is the rest that begins with a question.

Pause.
Close your eyes.
Ask yourself gently, without judgment:
Am I actually enjoying my life?
Or am I performing it for someone else’s gaze?

Whose story am I reenacting?
My own?
Or the ancestral trauma script that said: Achieve or be erased. Prove your humanity. Prove your worth. Prove you belong.

This pause is sacred.
It interrupts the lineage of overwork.
It severs the loop of performative survival.
It invites presence, not performance.
Embodiment, not endurance.

This is rest.
And it begins right here—in the honesty of this moment.

Won’t You Celebrate With Me?

A poem that captures this moment more than anything else:
Lucille Clifton reads it here

“won’t you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life?
…
come celebrate with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.”

(Read the full poem here →)

Gentle reflection

Where have you been moving so fast that you forgot to pause and feel proud?
What are you ready to celebrate—not because it’s finished, but because it’s true?

Somatic cue

Place one hand on your belly, one on your heart.
Breathe in deeply.
Exhale slowly.
Whisper to yourself:
“I am worth celebrating.”
Let it land before you move on.

If this reflection landed in your body,
forward it to a sister who forgets how far she’s come.
Remind her she doesn’t have to earn celebration.
She already is the miracle.

With deep care,
Tecca
The Rested Black Woman

This work is sustained by the community. If this spoke to your spirit, I welcome your support.🫶🏾