The Journey to Loving All of Me

Harvest Love Journal

Learning to love every part of myself as a woman hasn’t been a straight line.
It’s not a moment—it’s a movement.
Not a one-and-done—but a daily devotion.

Some days, I feel like I’m blooming.
Other days, I’m unraveling.
But every day—I choose to show up. For myself. For my rhythm. For the version of me that is still becoming.

And I wouldn’t be on this journey without the love and presence of other women walking beside me.

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure: no one understands a woman like another woman.

Late-night phone calls.
Cries on the kitchen floor.
Laugh-until-you-can’t-breathe moments.
Holding space for one another with nothing but silence and steady eyes.

That kind of love is a medicine. A mirror. A memory of who we are when we forget.

To my friends, my sister, my mother, the other mothers, the fierce and soft women who’ve poured into me—thank you. Your presence has helped me soften toward myself. Your authenticity, your mess, your power, your joy—it’s all been a permission slip. You’ve helped me realize:

We don’t become whole by hiding.
We become whole by honoring every part.

💔 The truth is: I used to believe I had to be “just one thing” to be worthy.

If I could just stay calm, be nice, always smile, always be put together, then maybe I’d be enough. Maybe I’d be lovable. Maybe I’d finally get it “right.”

But it’s not true.

I am not just my grace. I am also my rage.
Not just my achievements—but my softness, my sadness, my spirals.
The shadowy parts, the messy parts, the parts I once rejected—they belong too.

And I’ve realized this:
If I don’t accept all of me, something always feels missing.
That denial creates a void. And one way or another, that void will speak—through burnout, disconnection, shame, or the slow ache of never feeling “enough.”

So now, I choose wholeness over perfection.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when I feel misunderstood.

🌊 I am not meant for everything or everyone.

And neither are you.

That’s a truth that used to feel painful—but now it feels like peace.

I’ve made peace with not fitting in all spaces.
Peace with saying no to things that don’t honor my truth.
Peace with being “too much” or “not enough” in someone else’s story.

Because what’s meant for me won’t require me to contort or perform.
It will meet me in my wholeness, not my mask.
It will recognize the rhythm I was born with—and dance with it, not against it.

And the same is true for you.

💌 You were made with your own rhythm. Your own timing. Your own frequency of magic.

You don’t have to follow the noise.
You don’t have to perform your femininity, your softness, or your worth.
You were born with it. And when you begin to trust it—your life begins to feel like home.

🌿 A Reflection Invitation

Take a moment to gently ask yourself:

• What part of me have I been resisting or hiding?

• What does that part actually need from me today—compassion? Voice? Boundaries?

• Who are the women in my life that help me feel safe being all of me?

• How can I offer that same presence to someone else?

This is how we harvest love:
By tending to our own soil.
By watering the parts we once ignored.
By rooting into community, softness, and shared becoming.

To the women loving themselves in pieces and learning to love themselves whole—you are inspiring others without even realizing it.

You’re not behind. You’re right on time.
You are enough in your rage, your joy, your breakdowns, your softness.
You are allowed to take up space.
And you are never, ever alone.

With tenderness,
Ilda 🤍