Before The Soft Edit officially drops "Hello February" this February, consider this a soft share from the middle of my becoming. No polished lesson, just a real-time entry from the girl currently holding the pen.

I woke up the morning after Thanksgiving in my mother’s bed, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only shows up when your body finally stages its intervention. My stomach was tight, my head was foggy, and everything in me felt like it had been wrung out and left crooked to dry.

It’s been days since the breakup. Maybe six. Maybe more. Grief has a way of stretching time like warm taffy. The first three days, I didn’t move. On day four, I showered. On day five, I remembered what mascara looked like on my face. The days between blurred into each other - ache, Advil, and the hope that sleep might swallow both.

By day whatever-it-is, I found myself at my favorite bakery with a new friend who somehow managed to hand me a gift that felt like a doorway back into myself: car air fresheners shaped after my favorite Christmas movies. Tiny things. Silly things. And yet, standing there, I felt a part of me lift her head and whisper, See? Not everything hurts.

Which brings me to the truth I’ve been avoiding:

My body has been doing the grieving my mind keeps outrunning.

And if I’m honest, it hasn’t made me feel very soft at all. Heartbreak has a way of making you question everything – your worth, your intuition, your decision-making, even the way you pour your matcha. This man was the only anchor I had in a city that still feels like a half-unpacked box. Eight months of familiarity, gone with the sweep of a moment neither of us planned well for.

Somewhere between the tummyache and the heartache, between the nausea and the nostalgia, I kept writing for The Soft Edit. I kept reading the words I wrote for other women, and somehow they circled back to me. They didn’t fix anything, but they steadied me, like a hand on the small of your back reminding you that you’re still here.

The journal I wrote, “Soft Codes: 30 Days of Her” became something like a railing in the dark. Every prompt forced me to sit with myself long enough to feel something more than sadness. And even if I only moved one inch at a time, it was movement.

He was my only support here, yes.

But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it’s time I learn how to support myself in ways I’ve always reserved for someone else.

So here I am: still not feeling great, still nursing a nervous stomach, still deciding whether a weekend in Connecticut with a friend might be medicine or avoidance. I don’t want to betray my body by pretending she’s not screaming for rest. But I also don’t want to deny her softness when it’s offered.

What I do know is this:

The Soft Edit is carrying me in the same way I hoped it would carry other women.

Not as a distraction.

As a mirror.

Sometimes the story I write becomes the hand I need to hold.

And in this strange, aching, in-between season, I’m reminding myself that healing isn’t always a return to who you were, sometimes it’s the slow, steady arrival of someone you haven’t met yet.

Someone softer.

Someone braver.

Someone who still believes in her own unfolding.

Goodbye, November. If this is how we’re closing the month, at least it’s honest. Consider this my soft check-in from the middle, before the official pages of The Soft Edit start dropping in February.

Until next time, keep rewriting the story like the plot twist is yours to make.

xo, Sophia Rose

A Soft Note Before We Officially Begin

The Soft Edit launches February 2026 — a weekly, cinematic, slow-living-for-ambitious-women kind of read.

Think:

• business strategies that feel like breathing room
• brand storytelling that actually converts
• money habits that feel aligned, not draining
• soft systems for women scaling businesses with clarity, not urgency
• creativity, intuition, and femininity woven into how you work

Hello February is the Sunday-morning, Sunday-afternoon, unbrushed-hair energy.

The late-night thoughts.

The small heartbreaks.

The tiny triumphs.

The scenes I’m living through in real time.

Before we step into February, I’m sharing this piece from the middle — the unpolished, in-progress parts of becoming.

A Soft Gift for You

If you want something to hold onto during your own in-between season,

Soft Codes: 30 Days of Her is available:

✨ Free for subscribers right now

✨ Available for purchase on Amazon (paperback)

It’s the journal that’s been holding me together this week,

and if you’re somewhere between ache and arrival,

it might hold you too.

If you’d like to walk through this next chapter with me:

📱 Text SOFT to 844-921-8957

to join The Soft Edit list before the official February launch.

Some stories shape you.

Some seasons stretch you.

And some — like this one — quietly rebuild you.

Thank you for reading...