Most evenings, I walk the dogs across our land just as the light starts to go. The fields around us pick up a particular sound at that hour — wind moving through grass that’s gone slightly silver in the fading light, a sound that’s almost a whisper if you actually stop and listen for it…
Guilt around choosing yourself usually isn’t proof you did something wrong — it’s an old, inherited rule firing on a situation it was never actually built to judge. Recognising that distinction is most of the work. Guilt rarely travels alone. It comes with stories attached, with expectations, with invisible rules nobody ever actually asked you…