Life Changing Reminders

Reminders to Myself

(and maybe for you too)

Babe, I’m writing this to me.

But I’m sharing it, because if it’s stirring in me, it’s probably stirring in you too.

Life keeps showing us the same truth, over and over.

Nothing lasts.

Not people. Not bodies. Not seasons. Not certainty.

We all know this. And yet, honestly, we waste so much time on things that don’t matter. Worrying. Managing. Proving. Performing. Holding our breath for some future moment when we’re finally allowed to relax.

This is my wake-up note for 2026.

I’m not here to sleepwalk through this one wild, precious life.

I’m here to show up fully.

And showing up fully doesn’t mean doing more.

It doesn’t mean hustling harder, fixing everyone, or holding it all together with a brave face and a tight jaw.

Showing up fully means showing up as me.

It means being in my truth.

Not smoothing my edges.

Not hiding my needs.

Not shrinking my light to make others comfortable.

It means asking for what I need. Time. Money. Space. Love.

It means directing with clarity, not managing out of fear.

I’m not here to control outcomes. I’m here to be a signal. A light. A woman who tells the truth gently and lives it boldly.

It means loving myself fiercely.

The real kind of love.

The kind that rests when tired.

Eats when hungry.

Moves when energy wants to move.

Says no without apology.

Wears eyeliner like it’s the 80s again because it feels fun and a little rebellious and very alive.

Messy hair. Fine line tattoos. Candles lit. Always.

It means listening. Proper listening.

To myself.

To the quiet one inside who didn’t get a say before.

To the people I love, without rehearsing my reply.

It means crying when it’s there.

Laughing loudly.

Hugging longer.

Giving myself a big, soft, spacious I love you kind of room.

It means pillow talk with Craig that slows time.

The kind where hearts soften, walls drop, and something ancient and sacred remembers itself.

Where love isn’t rushed. It’s felt.

It means letting go.

Of outcomes.

Of opinions.

Of the endless what ifs.

It’s trusting, again and again, that I am supported by all that is.

Even when I forget.

Especially when I forget.

It’s facing fears anyway.

Traffic. New places. New rooms. New audiences.

Breathing through the discomfort instead of backing away.

One exhale at a time.

This is spaciousness.

This is expansion.

This is aliveness.

Eckhart would whisper, gently, Come back to now. This moment is enough.

Marianne would remind me that loving myself is not indulgent, it’s devotional.

That my light isn’t arrogant. It’s necessary.

That what scares us most isn’t how small we are, but how powerful, radiant, and uncontainable we become when we stop apologising for it.

And woven through all of this, always, is this truth:

There is an insane, humbling, word-failing love I carry for my two sons.

They are my greatest teachers in what it means to be awake.

Through them, I’ve learned what fierce loyalty feels like.

Not the loud kind.

The cellular kind.

The kind that lives beneath thought.

They show me presence without trying.

Truth without performance.

Love without negotiation.

My heart knows exactly what it’s attached to.

Theirs.

We don’t just belong to each other emotionally.

We share molecules.

Their cells crossed into mine, and mine crossed into theirs in the womb.

Science says this.

Spirit knows it.

We are, quite literally, made of each other.

When I forget what matters, I look at them.

When I get lost in noise, they bring me back to now.

When I wonder what being awake really looks like, it’s in the way they live, feel, love, protect, question, and keep going.

My gratitude for them is endless.

Not the clinging kind.

The bowing kind.

They anchor me to what’s real.

They remind me that love is the point.

That devotion can be quiet.

That courage can be ordinary.

That showing up is often just staying open.

I carry them in every breath.

And I let them be fully who they are, because that too is love.

Daily Practices I’m Committing To

Morning pause

Before the phone. Before the world gets a say.

I breathe.

I place a hand on my body.

I ask, What do I want to feel like today?

Presence in the ordinary

One small thing gets my full attention.

Making coffee. Feeding the birds. Mucking about with Kala, hugging Eddie.

Noticing tension. Softening it.

Letting life touch me as it is.

A gentle stretch

Do one thing that grows me.

Drive somewhere new.

Finish one thing fully.

Walk up a hill.

Write. Read. Learn. Speak.

Not to prove anything, but to stay awake.

Self-love in real life

Candles.

Eyeliner.

A trip to Oz.

Wellington with the fam, to hang and eat chips, just because.

Eating when it suits my body, not the room.

Choosing myself without turning it into a performance.

Evening check-in

What did I do today that honoured me?

Wisdom I Carry With Me

My mum, in our last conversation, said, as she knew she was about to leave. Take care of each other.

She meant it with her whole being.

She made sure we were fed.

Bills paid.

No debts hanging heavy.

A pot of tea always brewing

Biscuits and jigsaw ready.

A sofa big enough for everyone.

And conversations where nothing important was avoided.

She also said she wished she’d been braver.

I don’t know what she meant exactly.

But I feel it in my bones.

And from those who’ve gone before us comes the same quiet wisdom:

Love deeply.

Stop worrying so much about what people think.

Tell the truth sooner.

Rest more.

Be brave, even when it’s messy.

Forgive yourself quickly.

Say the things.

Take the trip.

Have the conversation.

You will lose everything eventually, except the love you give, which returns to the great oneness we all come from.

So laugh more.

Light the candles.

Give up trying to manage it all.

Do your best, rest a lot!

Trust that you are far more miraculous than you’ve been taught to believe.

My 2026 Mantras

I love you. Relax.

You are loved. Deeply. Completely.

You are a miracle of the universe.

You are here to be the full, messy, brave you.

Your light is not too much. It is needed.

You don’t have to earn your worth.

Breathe. You are safe to be seen.

Nothing lasts. Everything matters.

Show up. Love fiercely. Trust life.

I’m writing this as a reminder to myself.

And if you’re reading it, love, maybe it’s for you too.

Because when we show up fully imperfect, playful, tender, brave

We don’t just change our own lives.

We make the world warmer.

Softer.

More honest.

And that feels like exactly what we’re here to do. 💛✨

Join me in 2026 on a transformational journey to the centre of you, and release blocking fear-based beliefs, learn how to get out of your own way, and live with confidence, grace, and power.

Book a session, email me - caronproctor@me.com

I work with people all around the world.

Love & Stardust,

Caron xox