Returning Home to Yourself

What does it actually mean to come home to yourself?

“Returning home to yourself” is something we hear all the time in wellness and spiritual spaces. But what does it actually mean?

I can only speak for myself when I explain what it means to me. Maybe somewhere inside my story, something will spark recognition in you too.

Throughout our lives, we are constantly being influenced by the world around us. Our families. Our relationships. Our work. Our communities. The expectations placed on us. The expectations we place on ourselves. Survival. Comparison. Social media.

Trying to be liked. Trying to be successful. Trying to become the person we think we should be, and somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, we slowly begin to leave ourselves.

There have been a lot of versions of me. Versions who knew exactly who they were. Versions who were wildly confident, expressive, connected, creative, and alive. Versions who built entire lives around things they eventually realized they didn't even want anymore.

And there have been versions of me who became so disconnected from themselves that I genuinely did not know who I was. At one point, I didn't know my own name. I couldn't recognize my own mom. I didn't sleep for days.

That is how far away from myself I have been.

And yet, here I am.

I think all of this is part of being human.

I believe we are spiritual beings having a very human experience, and being human means we are going to experience things that shape us, influence us, break us open, challenge our identities, and sometimes cause us to lose touch with parts of ourselves.

We rarely wake up one morning and suddenly realize Oh shit. I abandoned myself.

It happens quietly. In the passing of our lives.

In the one yes we didn't mean. The one boundary we knew we needed but didn't hold. That relationship we contorted ourselves to keep. The one dream we decided was too unrealistic. The opinion we swallowed because we didn't want to upset someone. The part of ourselves we toned down because it made other people uncomfortable. One more time choosing what “made sense” over what *felt true. *One compromise at a time.

Eventually, you look around at a life you technically created and wonder Where the hell did I go?

For me, coming home isn't about becoming a better version of myself. I don't think there is some perfect, healed, enlightened Ashleigh that I'm supposed to eventually unlock if I do enough personal development.

Returning home to yourself is not about discovering some shinier, more evolved, perfectly healed version of you.

It isn't about becoming more spiritual. It isn't about becoming more productive. It isn't even necessarily about becoming happier.

It is about getting quiet enough to recognize what is already true for you underneath all of the noise.

Not what your parents think is true. Not what your partner wants. Not what your industry rewards. Not what Instagram tells you healing should look like. Not what your spiritual community believes. Not what would make the most impressive story.

You.

What do you actually feel?
What do you actually want?
What are you pretending not to know?
What have you known for months, or maybe years, but have been afraid to admit?

Those questions can change your entire life.

I know because they changed mine.

In fact, those questions have changed my life more than once.  One of the biggest examples of this for me came through the ending of Sacred Light.

This is the time I completely lost myself

Sacred Light had become a huge part of my life. It wasn't just something I worked on. It was community, purpose, friendship, ceremony, work, leadership, identity and so many pieces of my life woven together.

When I eventually knew I needed to leave, it wasn't because I suddenly stopped caring about it.

That would have actually been easier. I cared deeply.

There were things I loved about it. There were people I loved. There was a version of the future I had imagined inside of it. And, at the same time, I knew that continuing the way things were would require me to keep moving further away from myself.

So I left.

Sacred Light was a meaningful spiritual home and body of work for me for nearly two years. I poured so much of myself into it. Community. Ceremony. Operations. Leadership. Relationships. Vision. All my IP was given to this experience.

For a moment, it was my favorite thing I had ever done. I was willing to give it my ALL.

It wasn't just somewhere I worked. It became intertwined with who I was.

When things began changing inside the organization, I found myself facing one of the clearest initiations of my life. Was I going to keep belonging to something I loved, or was I going to belong to myself?

I wanted collaboration. Transparency. Respect. Accountability.
I kept trying to find a way forward. But eventually I had to acknowledge what I already knew.

Staying would require me to betray too much of myself.

So in November of 2023, I walked away. I knew it was the right decision.
And yet, it still fucking hurt. LIKE HELL

That was one of the things that experience taught me, choosing yourself doesn't always immediately feel empowering.  Sometimes choosing yourself feels like grief.

Sometimes it feels lonely. Sometimes you make the decision you know is right and then spend months wondering what the fuck just happened to your life.

That is something we don't talk about enough. You can make the right decision and still grieve it. You can choose yourself and still miss what you left. You can know something isn't right for you anymore and still desperately wish it could have been different.

Walking away was not the end of that initiation. In many ways, it was the beginning.

Over the months that followed, layers of my identity continued falling away.
By April of 2024, I had lost myself in a way I had never experienced before.

There had been so much change, so much identity wrapped up in everything that had happened, and so much processing through spirituality, ceremony, medicine and trying to understand what it all meant.

At some point, I wasn't embodied anymore.

I had spent so much time holding spaces, building communities, supporting transformation, taking too much "medicine", navigating relationships, and being needed that I didn't fully understand how much of myself had become wrapped around those roles.

I had become profoundly disconnected from myself. There was a moment, about 5 days to be exact, when I didn't know my own name. I couldn't even recognize my own mother.

I went days without sleeping, I think it was somewhere around 8-10 days straight of being awake, no sleep.

I felt completely disembodied.

I don't look back on that experience and romanticize it as enlightenment.

I was lost, as fuck.

My work became much simpler than trying to understand the entire universe.

I needed to come back into relationship with me.

I didn't need another cosmic answer.

I needed to be in my body.
I needed to eat.
I needed to sleep.
I needed to breathe.
I needed the earth underneath my feet.
I needed nature.
I needed people I trusted.
I needed normal, human things.
And got all of that and soul much more…
All of that is such an important part of “coming home” for me now.

Sometimes coming home isn't some huge spiritual revelation.
Sometimes coming home is drinking water and taking a nap.
Sometimes it's sitting under a tree.
Sometimes it's putting your phone down.
Sometimes it's crying.
Sometimes it's finally saying the thing you have been avoiding saying.
Sometimes it's admitting that something you desperately wanted isn't right for you anymore.
Sometimes it's letting life be really fucking simple for a minute.

Our bodies tell us so much when we actually slow down enough to listen.

I have learned that my body often knows something long before my mind is ready to admit it.

Pay attention to your breath.

Small decisions.

Ordinary life.

Coming home was not one giant breakthrough.

It was thousands of tiny returns.

One of the ways I have learned to come home is by paying attention to what my body is already communicating. Our minds are incredibly skilled at explaining things away.

We can justify almost anything.

Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I should give it another chance. Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe this is just part of growth. Maybe I should push through.

Meanwhile, the body is waving a giant fucking flag that is screaming

Pay attention!!

How are you breathing? Is your breath deep and spacious? Or shallow and fast? Are you constantly holding it without noticing? What happens to your shoulders when you talk about this person, opportunity, job, or decision? Does your stomach tighten? Does your jaw clench? Are you suddenly exhausted? Do you feel expansive when you imagine saying yes? What happens when you imagine saying no? Listen to the way you speak. Are your words calm and grounded? Or do you hear yourself becoming frantic, defensive, irritated, or desperate to convince someone, *including yourself, *that something is right?

None of these sensations automatically mean there is one specific answer. Our bodies can carry fear, past experiences, excitement, grief, trauma, desire, and uncertainty all at once.

But they are information.

When we stop treating the body like an inconvenient vehicle carrying our brain around, we can begin having a conversation with ourselves again.

Sometimes the question isn't What should I do?
Sometimes it is What am I already experiencing that I haven't been willing to acknowledge?

Self-trust is built through action.

This might be the biggest thing I have learned.

Self-trust isn't something you think your way into.

You build it. You hear yourself. You honor what you hear. You make a choice.

Then you show yourself that when your inner voice speaks, you will not immediately abandon it to make someone else comfortable.

Leaving Sacred Light was one of those moments for me.

Part of me wanted desperately for it to work. Soul much of me wanted it to work. But something deeper inside me knew I could not continue sacrificing integrity for belonging.

Choosing to leave taught me I will listen when something inside me says this is no longer mine. There have been relationships where I knew something wasn't right long before I was ready to act on it. Eventually, I acted. Another deposit into self-trust.

There have been identities I spent years building that no longer fit. I let them die. Another deposit. There have been businesses, projects, communities, and dreams I deeply loved that changed shape, or ended entirely. Instead of forcing every ending to become a failure, I learned to ask **What is true now? **Another deposit.

And... there have been countless tiny moments too. Taking the afternoon alone when I needed space. Going into nature. Saying no without writing a dissertation explaining why. Speaking something uncomfortable. Creating something simply because I wanted to. Letting myself change my mind. Resting. Breathing. Starting again.

Self-trust is built in those moments. Not because every decision turns out perfectly. But because you begin proving to yourself Whatever happens, I am not going to disappear on myself again.

You don't unspiral overnight.

If it took years to slowly move away from yourself, it makes sense that returning might take some time too.

It has not been linear for me. At all.

Sometimes I feel deeply grounded and clear. Then suddenly an old pattern resurfaces. An old relationship dynamic gets activated. An opportunity pokes at an old insecurity.

Fear gets loud. I start questioning myself again.
And I have to come home again.

That's the practice.

You hear yourself. You honor what you hear. You make a choice. Then slowly, sometimes painfully slowly, you prove to yourself that your inner knowing is safe to follow. And somewhere along the way something shifts. And You realize I have me.

That changes everything. You begin making choices differently. Your relationships change. Your boundaries change. The way you lead changes. The way you build your business changes. Your creativity changes. The experiences you create begin reflecting you instead of the version of you constructed for approval. You express yourself more authentically. You become more willing to disappoint people.

And yes…
You start giving a lot less fucks about what everybody else thinks.
Because this is your life. Your creation. Your homecoming to this planet Earth.

We have somehow landed on this giant spinning playground in space for a very limited amount of time. I don't want to spend mine performing someone else's version of Ashleigh. And I don't want you spending yours performing someone else's version of you.

Return home. Remember your power. Create from there.

This has become one of the simplest ways I understand my work.

Return home.

Get quiet enough to hear yourself again.
Come back into your body.
Notice your breath.
Tell yourself the truth.
Remember what is actually yours.

Remember your power.
Not power over other people.
Power as authorship.
Agency.
Choice.
Sovereignty.
The ability to participate consciously in the creation of your life.
The remembrance that you can say yes. You can say no. You can leave. You can begin. You can change your mind. You can build something new. You can become someone you haven't met yet without abandoning who you are today.

And then **Create from there. **Create the relationship. The boundary. The experience. The business. The retreat. The art. The community. The next chapter. **Your life. **Not from fear. Not from proving. Not from performing. Not because somebody told you that's what success is supposed to look like.

Create from the version of you who can actually hear herself.

That is empowerment to me.

Not never getting lost again, but developing such a strong relationship with yourself that when you do get lost, you know how to come home.

You don't have to make the journey alone.

There is a strange paradox in returning home to yourself.

The work is deeply personal, and it doesn't have to happen in isolation.

Sometimes we need spaces where we don't have to perform.
Where there is room to hear ourselves think. Where other humans are asking similar questions. Where growth doesn't require constantly fixing ourselves. Where we can practice being honest, courageous, messy, clear, confused, inspired, human, and still belong.

That is a huge part of why I created Soulful Shift. Soulful Shift is an ongoing community for people who want to keep returning to themselves while actually living their lives.

We gather to connect, reflect, breathe, practice, have honest conversations, explore tools for personal growth, and remember what can become difficult to hear when life gets loud.

There is no finish line. No pressure to become the most healed person in the room.

Just an invitation to keep listening.
To practice trusting yourself.
To strengthen your boundaries.
To make more aligned choices.
To be supported without needing to arrive polished.

Because remembering is only the beginning.

Eventually, we have to practice living what we remember. And sometimes it helps to have people beside us while we do.

Return home. Remember your power. Create from there.

And whenever you wander away again,
because you probably will,
you can always begin the journey home.
Again.