The girls are in their room
I didn’t declare myself mother to another daughter. I became her mother the moment I stopped tracking her as “other.”
I used to think self-expression came from declaration. From stand.
From choosing who I was going to be.
From language. From integrity. From saying it out loud, then living into it.
I led seminars in it.
I lived inside the frame.
Declare who you are.
Stand in that declaration.
Act from it, even when it’s hard.
And I did. For years.
I called it power.
I called it freedom.
I called it being my word.
And it worked—until it didn’t.
Because one day I stood in the hallway of our house.
And I said, without thinking:
“The girls are in their room.”
Petra, my daughter.
And Helia, her best friend.
And I heard it as it came out of my mouth: “their room.”
Not Petra’s room.
I didn’t correct myself.
I didn’t explain.
Because it was true.
Helia wasn’t visiting.
She belonged.
I had already placed her.
My space had already wrapped around her.
Not choice.
Not announcement.
Not permission asked.
Just truth—spoken before I realised it to be true.
My husband smiled.
He said, “You’ve got another daughter.”
I rolled my eyes.
He said, “Come on, you love it.”
I didn’t say anything.
Because he was right.
I did love it.
I just hadn’t known it until the words came out of me.
That’s when I landed—not in thought, but in body.
Into what had already happened without my say in the way.
Full self-expression doesn’t come from declaration.
It comes from placement.
It didn’t happen because I said,
“Today I choose to be open.”
“Today I embody ease.”
It happened because I stopped interrupting what was already true.
I didn’t declare myself mother to another daughter.
I became her mother the moment I stopped tracking her as “other.”
And I didn’t plan to place my husband either.
But I started placing him every time I:
- Had his semen land on me, in me, near me without flinch
- Sat near him and commanded him without agenda
- Softened in his presence and called him Beeps
- Took his presence as natural proof of his devotion
- …and showered him with gifts, tools, nourishment, and my body
I’m not performance.
I’m tuned to my space.
I’m vibrating and tuning everything around to my frequency.
And when the space holds?
- I say less
- I give more
- I move cleaner
- I lead without deciding to lead
- And the people in my life stop hovering
—because they already know where they belong.
The girls are in their room.
My husband rests beside me, in me, through me.
I’m in my rhythm.
No announcement needed.
Just direction.
Just placement.
Just unconsidered truth landing.