Welcome to The Loaf Letters: A Reclamation
The First Slice
Dear Kindred Soul,
There comes a point in life where the soul just says, “Enough.” Enough hiding. Enough carrying. Enough silencing ourselves in rooms we were never meant to shrink in.
This is the first slice of something I can’t quite define, and maybe I don’t need to. All I know is—it’s time.
For years, I’ve been unravelling and remembering. Coming undone and becoming. I’ve wandered through the fog of trauma and crawled through the grit of grief. I’ve laid low in dark places, not knowing when the light might come. And still—I baked bread. I made candles. I whispered to my dog, and I wrote poems in my head. I began to move my body again, slowly, with reverence. I remembered the art of creating with my hands and the ancient call of creating from the heart.
These letters are my reclamation.
A reclamation of voice, body, meaning. Of craft, and slowness, and joy.
Of the me that got lost. Of the me that’s coming home.
I call them The Loaf Letters because, like a loaf of bread, this process is patient and elemental. It begins in stillness. It rises through warmth. It cracks open when the timing is right. Each letter will be a slice of something—maybe a memory, a recipe, a ritual, or a thought that caught my soul and asked to be shared.
It won’t be polished or perfect. But it will be true.
You’ll find pieces of me here:
The yoga teacher-in-training who is gently reclaiming her body’s wisdom
The woman who once stitched clothes and handbags, now stitching her story together
The natural maker of skin oils, potions, and rituals for healing
The bread-baker, candle-pourer, dog-whisperer, and wild-hearted wanderer
The survivor, the seeker, the not-quite-ready-to-be-seen-but-here-anyway human
I don’t have a marketing strategy or a 5-step plan. I don’t know what I’m “selling.” I’m not even sure I want to sell anything. But I am sharing something real—and if it finds its way into your hands, then maybe it was meant to. Maybe you’re reclaiming something too.
For now, this is where I begin.
Not at the end of the journey, but somewhere in the beautiful, messy, rising middle.
Thanks for reading the first slice. There’s more to come.
With warmth and a wild heart,
Lou, x