The Kneaded Soul

Shaped by too many hands, losing your own form.

Dear Crumbheads,

You’ve been pulled, pressed, folded by everyone else’s needs—until you barely remember the shape you started with. You’ve become dough that can’t tell where the pressure ends and you begin.

. . .

Permission to be unfinished: I once got kneaded so much I forgot if I was bread or an emotional stress ball.

Place a hand on your chest today and feel your own warmth. No demands. Just proof you’re still here.

Recovery isn’t about bouncing back. It’s about remembering who you are when no one else is pressing in.

Even if you don’t feel whole, you are worthy of rest.