Coming Home to Heal: Rest, Rebirth & Realignment in Ghana

Photo credit to Cary Sullivan aka @afrofunke

After months of being on the move — airports, late nights, stages, strangers, cities that blur into each other — my spirit finally said, “Enough. Go home.” Touring is beautiful, but it can take pieces of you if you’re not careful. The constant motion, the smiling-through-exhaustion, the quiet moments where you carry more than you show. I didn’t realize how much I needed healing until I landed in Ghana and felt something inside me exhale for the first time in a long while.

Coming home feels like stepping into warm water. The air holds you. The people remind you who you are. Even the sun feels like it knows your name. Ghana doesn’t just greet you; it welcomes your tired parts too — the parts you hide on the road, the parts bruised by stress, by trauma, by life being life.

I came here for rebirth.

But also? I came to laugh again.

To live softer.

To remember joy in simple things — like fresh fruit that tastes like sunshine, conversations that stretch into the evening, dancing without needing a reason, and aunties who can read your whole life story just by looking at you.

Healing doesn’t always have to be heavy. Here, it can be light. It can be playful. Some days my therapy is a long walk in the neighborhood, kids shouting my name like I’m their long-lost cousin. Some days it’s a bowl of waakye that fixes my whole spirit. Some days it’s me lying under a tree, pretending I’m meditating when I’m really just napping — and honestly, both count.

Ghana has its own spiritual frequency. The land itself feels ancient, like it remembers your ancestors even when you forget. When I sit by the ocean, I feel messages in the waves. When the moon rises — big, humble, watching everything — I feel guided. When elders speak, even their silences feel like lessons.

Healing from trauma isn’t linear. Some days I feel open and expanded; other days I feel like the old pain is pulling at my ankles, asking for attention. But here, I don’t feel overwhelmed by the process. The community holds me. The land balances me. The laughter restores me. Even the challenges teach me gently.

What I’m learning is this:

Healing isn’t just removing what hurts; it’s remembering what feels good.

Rebirth isn’t just letting go; it’s letting yourself grow again.

And community isn’t optional — it’s medicine.

Slowly, I feel myself realigning. I feel my spirit catching up to my body. I feel joy returning in unexpected ways. I feel my creativity waking up again — not rushed, not forced — just rising naturally, like the moon.

This season in Ghana is more than a break.

It’s a cleansing.

A recharging.

A soft reset.

A reminder that I am held, that I am guided, that I am allowed to heal and still have fun while doing it.

And honestly?

It feels like the beginning of my next chapter — one built on truth, rest, connection, and a whole lot of laughter.