I grabbed my second margarita from the garage fridge, sandals crunching gravel as I made my way back to my childhood friends, the two of them lit up by a bonfire at the edge of the woods.

I felt heavy. they felt heavy. life had all of us in its tight grip of crushing change and unknowns, again. seemingly endless, exhausting change, I thought to myself.

but 41 is old enough. old enough to have collected plenty of heartbreak, plenty of stories, plenty of memories. plenty of wiry silver hairs joining the party on my brunette mane.

one of my dear friends was in the midst of a surprise divorce (surprise to me, not so much to her), grieving the husband she thought she’d had and everything it took to get to this point. the other was still in shock from the most recent hospital visit, her sweet miracle baby of 10 years now probably needing another heart transplant.

for once in five years, my problems felt like small potatoes next to theirs. I was relieved that some of mine had dissipated, and in the same breath I wanted to reach out and take their pain away from them … pull it right from their hearts and release it up into the bonfire smoke and sparks, for the dark night to steal it away.

it had been years since some of us girls had gotten together. our childhood friend group is usually two handfuls strong … but tonight it could only be the three of us, and that was probably by grand design. there was room to go deep, to actually say things.

“it just goes to show you have no idea what someone else is going through,” one of my friends said. and that’s just it.

we have no idea how heavy someone’s invisible baggage is. we don’t know if they just came from their attorney’s office or from the hospital. we have no idea the pain they may be carrying from missing their kids, their husband, or grieving the childhood their kid never gets to have.

tonight I got the perspective I needed; a reminder that no matter how lucky someone looks from the outside, everyone’s fighting something. and honestly, it felt good to notice I no longer carried that constant ache, that weight the last two years in family court had put on my shoulders.

things aren’t perfect, and honestly I don’t think they ever will be. but change is in the air, and we’re fortunate enough to still have plans and hopes and dreams to reach for.

in all of it, personal and worldly, God calls us to lay our troubles down at His feet. they were never ours to carry alone. we aren’t meant to figure this out by ourselves, leaning only on our own understanding.

remember …

miracles happen every single day. I suggested we get together again in six months to celebrate, to expect that God has enough goodness stored up for all three of us that we’ll have good news to share. maybe it happens on that timeline, maybe it doesn’t.

but I know friendships like this are what make the waiting bearable and even beautiful.

because in six months, or sixteen, I won’t just remember exactly what we were all carrying that night. I will remember the three of us laughing our asses off, trying to take one decent flash photo in the dark … and how that laughter lightening the load mattered just as much as anything we said.

it’s 7am. you set your alarm for 6:00 to squeeze in a workout or a few minutes of devotion before the kids woke up, but somehow you snoozed it again. now they’re at your door, or in your bed, wanting breakfast, or parked in front of a screen waiting for direction.

you gulp the shame down and decide it’s still going to be a good day. maybe you’ll all go for a walk later. that would count, right? but the kids’ demands and the buzz of your phone drown out your plans before the day’s even really arrived, and you already feel behind.

by 8am you’ve made forty-one micro-decisions that no one else sees. asking your brain to also generate the question “and what does my soul need today” in that same window is asking too much of an already-maxed system.

it’s not that you don’t care. it’s that deciding what to do about it is the thing killing you and your momentum.

I know because I was there too.

about eight years ago, with a newborn and a toddler, I remember asking how I was ever going to get back in shape, make progress on my business, or even hear (actually hear) all the voices in my head. were they God? were they postpartum? were they other people’s opinions, my ex-husband’s preferences, dressed up as my own thoughts?

I went back to journaling, something I’d done most of my life but had let slide during the newborn blur. I started working with a coach, who helped me build one discipline at a time — learning to get my own needs met before I spent all day meeting everyone else’s. it changed how I showed up for my kids, for my family, for my work … for literally everything.

if any of that sounds familiar …

here’s the thing I want to say clearly: this isn’t an argument against listening to your body. your body is still the one giving you the real information. but when you’re depleted, “just listen to what you need” is itself a question that takes energy you don’t have.

discipline isn’t overriding your body’s cues and pushing through no matter what - it’s what makes listening possible again.

the real problem

it isn’t that you’re lazy or that you don’t care enough (clearly. you’re reading this article which shows you do care enough and you’re willing to do somsthing about how you’re feeling). it’s that you’re trying to make a values-level decision — what does my soul, my body, my mind, my heart actually need right now — in the exact moment you have the least capacity to answer it.

that’s the whole shift. not more self-awareness, and not one more thing to figure out. just deciding once, so your depleted 7am self doesn’t have to.

this month inside Made for More Mama, I’m sharing the exact tool I use for this; the thing that turned “what do I even need right now” into a ten-second glance and go. if you want it, come find us inside. 🩵

get the Recharge Menu, NOW

why isn’t it enough to have both of my kids at their respective friend’s houses, swim suits and sandals and towels and dry clothes packed, as the mom brain does, aiming to think of everything?

why isn’t it enough that I got 1 pint of blood drawn, each nutrient and level tested that took months of coordinating to finally get some answers?

why do I want to just lay on this green lawn, under the tiger lilies, and close my eyes in the breeze, instead of sit up here rigidly at a table on the porch and try to work … to write … to express something coherent?

why is there so much trying and so little being?

why does the being never feel like enough? not a weekend, or an afternoon off, or a week at the cabin feels like it’s ever enough time just living and not trying to be productive.

why does money come so easily to other people?

they share links and package themselves so neatly, and know how to say the right things to the right people … when all I want to do is be a bird and soar over the lakes and forests.

maybe I just never wanted to become a package.

I feel as if I am squishing this giant, sparkly, airy, fairy, uncontainable soul into a glass cylinder, to shelf and make it palatable and appealing for marketing.

“choose me.”

“I’m different.”

“pick me to guide you, to inspire you, to influence you.”

but I don’t really want that. because who am I?

yes I’ve been through hard shit. yes I can be fantastic at it, and also, it’s what I know. but I also am not doing this alone or by my own power, and by the grace of God, I do get through those hard things eventually.

but … I just want to be myself.

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and myself wants a nap.

I don’t want to try so hard.

I want to create and to make and to write and to draw and to have good conversations that change lives, and to have money flow effortlessly into my bank account.

I want to trust that’s enough.

I want to make my kids big homemade breakfasts and not look at the clock and not think, “I should get some work done today” … but instead, “I wonder what we’ll create, or what adventure we’ll have today.”

I want to feel less like I have to and more like I want to.

I want this stranger reading a book on this porch to pick a different spot so he isn’t in my eye-line when I tear up at my own words. *wow. he just got up and left*

In that case …

I want this fly to leave me alone and go find something else to land on.

I want my mom to understand what we’re trying to do, for her and her future, and be more grateful instead of resistant and resentful.

I want her house to sell easily and smoothly and in a way that feels good to all.

I want to live somewhere where we are all completely happy.

I want the evil of the world to dissolve into thin air, and for good to reign.

I want to know I’m on the path God intended for me, and nothing less.

“Bless you.” the stranger with a book is back, and looked at me dead in the eye after I wrote that last line and sneezed.

message received.

then, evidence that I tried again the next day.

three days and three attempts later, today I force myself to keep going when I want to stop. today I don’t have the excuse of tending to my kids in the lake. it’s just me. and I stubbornly keep going while a fly bites my ankle, and the wind whips my pages, and I tediously balance my coffee on my knee so the ants can’t claim it as their own.

and I’m damn happy that I kept writing today, because (and this is perhaps what I was avoiding subconsciously by keeping my pen quiet) the feelings finally arose that I could name.

that’s the beauty of writing, for me and for many.

some people claim they can “think” about this stuff - but I don’t believe them. when I just think and am alone with my thoughts, I don’t process it the same and I don’t grab the important stuff like I do when I write. let me know if you’re like this too.

the thing is, I’ve been in a bad mood lately. call it a funk, call it a dip, call it frustration … I’ve called it all of that.

I’ve felt pessimistic, like a victim of circumstance, hopeless, and even resentful. all things I’d rather not identify with.

instead of writing, I’d rather just close my eyes. I’d rather appreciate the cool breeze off the lake, and listen to the waves and the birds. instead of facing all of the hard things, I’d rather listen to the leaves and flowers rustling, their bright yellow and orange blooms with emerald green leaves dancing behind my closed eyelids.

and here, with my eyes shut … I am somewhere tropical, somewhere I’d envisioned myself living by now. it’s really feels so close with all of my senses lit up and transporting me … but wait … the smell yanks me back to my current location.

the smell is fresh water. the weedy, fishy smell of my childhood is so familiar. it feels like home, and it’s what I’ve always known.

and there it is. my pen touches that nerve I have been tiptoeing around.

hot tears of sadness and grief well up in my eyes.

dammit, I think. I’m so tired of crying.

the truth is I don’t want to leave this lake. I WISH this was a place we could return to, and enjoy with my kids for years to come. I wish that my mom could and would keep this place up, and keep it safe for us and our family, for whenever we wanted to come home …

but the reality is, it’s not like that. and it never really has been.

it’s too much for her all alone in her 70’s. it’s a lot for anyone, really. and it has been too much for my family for far too long. especially after my dad unexpectedly passed away in 2013, who was the primary lawn-mower, beer-drinker, and weed-killer.

I take in my favorite part of this place, where I sit now, just feet from the shore lapping at the rocks. even our dock is showing his old age; weathered and splintered and protesting when too many people stand on it’s wood at once.

yet the weathered planks still support my kids’ running jumps into the water. the thunk-thunk-thunk, splash! is a small, unforgettable sound of summer I’ll happily keep forever.

the greying boards still meet me with a warm, comforting surface to melt into, like a stiff hug, providing a safe place for the sun to dry my cool wet skin after a swim.

this dock remembers my childhood friends, the boombox blasting throughout the 90’s, our Diet Cokes and Sun-In streaked hair, and baby-oil days when we’d lather up for suntans and to simultaneously shield ourselves from chigger bites. it remembers the Seventeen and Cosmo magazines I probably shouldn’t have been reading, and the endless teenage journal rantings.

obviously this had to come up.

it’s hard to close a chapter of your life, especially when it’s taken up so much of your life, and you have such good memories of it.

we’ve been so focused on trying to get my mom on board with what needs to happen next, that I’ve been overlooking my own mixed emotions.

so for today, I vow again to let my pen do it’s job daily. even for 10 minutes. I won’t avoid it, like I’m not avoiding this hard season in my life even if I want to.

I’ll sit in the comfortable discomfort, of wanting to move on but not yet wanting to leave.

I’ll cherish perhaps this last summer on Pleasant and be so grateful for what it’s given me, and given us.

I’ll know that what’s coming next will have even more good times and memories and growth in store for us, because that’s just what’s standard for us. there is no going backwards, only looking back with thanks and moving forward with open minds and open hearts.

and expecting miraculous things to come.

because God is good and even tells us "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

thanks for being here today, friend.

and the moment my shoes hit the pavement, it hit me too.

the morning was wrapped in fog and mist. everything was gray.

I could barely make out the trees down the road.

birds sang somewhere beyond the haze, and tiny droplets landed on my face as I walked.

and suddenly, I felt it …

the grief well up in my throat.

and, simultaneously - overwhelming gratitude.

the disbelief that this chapter is actually ending.

I’ve walked this unexpected road for four years, and it’s seen me through so much.

it saw the summers when I didn’t know what to do without my kids, and spent hours on the pavement under the sun, trying to walk and jog out the restlessness of learning how to coparent and be without them.

it saw bike rides and short walks with my kids, who stopped every few minutes to play red light, green light or pick wildflowers from the ditch. it saw us collecting trash along the roadside, doing our small part to help out nature.

it has seen me wave at passing cars and neighbors and horses that have become familiar faces.

this morning, they were all there.

the white horse, the brown horse, the black one with white spots.

they lifted their heads as I passed, just like they always do.

giving their sturdy, silent good morning stare with a tail swish.

as I walked, I noticed things I’d never noticed before … probably a last-ditch effort to take it all in.

a pink primrose climbing a fence post.

the way the mist made everything feel almost tropical.

the birds singing so loudly it felt like a jungle tucked inside rural Minnesota.

how many seasons this road has carried me through.

I’ve walked here bundled so tightly in winter that only my eyes were visible. I’ve walked through snow, ice, blazing summer heat, and now this lush, green morning where everything feels alive.

and suddenly, I realized something.

I don’t really want to leave.

not because I’m heading somewhere terrible.

but because I’m heading somewhere I didn’t necessarily choose.

I wish, with a heavy heart, this felt like one of those exciting “next chapter” moments.

instead, this move feels more like something we need to do than something I would have picked. it feels heavy, a little frustrating, and full of problems to solve.

and also … God told me it’s the next right step.

one of those seasons where you don’t fully understand the purpose yet.

sometimes life asks us to keep walking before it explains why,

sometimes we’re invited into change we never would have chosen for ourselves.

and not because we’re being punished, or because we’ve done something wrong.

but because growth often begins long before understanding arrives. and this season, God is asking for my obedience.

a little yellow butterfly drifted past me.

the springer spaniels barked from the yard they’ve always guarded.

a rooster crowed somewhere in the distance …

the familiar soundtrack of a life I’ve quietly built here.

and I wondered what comes next.

I know God has something planned.

He has to.

because this can’t be the end of the story, and I refuse to believe this is moving backward.

it’s simply a chapter I don’t understand yet.

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near the end of my walk, I slowed down and noticed a blue spruce.

most of the tree looked dark and weathered, almost dormant.

but at the tip of every branch was fresh growth.

bright blue-green.

soft, alive, fresh, new.

and standing there, I realized that’s exactly how so many seasons of life feel.

sometimes everything around us looks still.

sometimes parts of us feel dormant or just plain dead.

sometimes we mistake transition for decline.

but if we look closely, there’s always new growth somewhere.

always.

the tree wasn’t dying … it was transitioning.

maybe that’s true for us too; some seasons aren’t about blooming. they’re about letting old parts fall, letting the roots grow deeper.

they’re about trusting what is growing, even when we can’t yet see the full picture.

this road has carried me through countless miles, and it’s not lost on me the name of it is 360th. a perfect circle. a full turnaround.

after my divorce, I moved here in heartbreak. I found extreme healing and growth in the quiet, the loneliness, the nature, with God, the friendships, parenting these incredible kids, growing a business, and eventually falling in love again.

somehow, this road helped carry me through one of the hardest seasons of my life.

and now it is carrying me to the edge of something new.

the next road will hold its own lessons.

its own beauty, and it’s own refining.

for today, though, I’m simply grateful.

grateful for one more walk, for the mist, for the horses, for the memories.

and grateful that even when we don’t know exactly where we’re going, we can keep putting one foot in front of the other, and know that’s God’s got us in this fog.

the path doesn’t have to make sense today.

sometimes it reveals itself only after we’ve been brave enough to keep walking.

it is quite literally the perfect summer day. brilliant blue lakes sparkle in the sun, and a slight breeze ruffles the emerald green trees and lush farmer’s fields as I drive by with my windows down.

my thoughts feel longer, but three short minutes later I’m in town, at my destination … the local library to escape the temptation of the lake and the cluttered house that screams at me to organize it. to focus.

to remind myself what I’m here to do.

but that’s easy to forget, and my path ahead fuzzies when I’m back here. back in the small town I grew up in, back in my childhood home.

memories and ghosts surface every room and street block I turn.

I feel as if I’m in a Hallmark movie back here, with my handsome boyfriend and idillic two children; blessed with both a boy and girl with sandy blonde hair and bright eyes. my own blue eyes and inner chatter claim the main character in this drama, at least from my perspective.

this town feels like a sweet, sticky, sugary syrup. capturing residents for lifetimes and generations with unbreakable family ties, familiar churches and barstools where everybody knows your name.

I envy ladies like the one who just left the library here with her kids. I pretend not to notice her talking to the librarian about the cabin her family has rented and their summer plans. she appeared my age, yet unfamiliar. she didn’t grow up here. she stumbled upon this place after a life lived elsewhere, then landed in this quant, quiet lake town as a soft landing to her earlier, busier life.

she’s earned this exhale.

why don’t I feel like I’ve earned it though? this question pierces my chest. perhaps it’s because I haven’t worked “hard enough” by society’s standards and had a traditional career, instead pursuing a life and jobs I enjoy and making just enough to get by.

perhaps it’s because my outer reality does not signal a slower pace for me anytime soon. moving back to help my mom with her house, and ideally sell and purchase a new home for us all, is a huge transition requiring so many steps and changes for the entire family. the physical boxes and furniture are a direct reflection of the weight and space being emotionally taken in my mind and body’s cells.

perhaps it’s because it’s a story I’m telling about this mom, and my mind is making it all up. it’s funny how often we all do this. assuming another person’s life is easy or well-earned … when in fact she could have just gotten out of a messy divorce herself, or has had a loss in the family, or her child could have overcome some hardship that tried her faith. maybe she has IBS or something.

we just don’t know.

there are people who have gotten out of here; escaped the gravitational pull. I know classmates that fled to L.A. and New York and Austin. or like myself to Wisconsin for college and then Minneapolis and later Colorado … only to find my way back here, to smalltown USA.

as I set out for my morning walk today, it occurred to me how full circle this chapter is becoming. when my mom mentioned selling the house months ago after my brother could no longer help her with the property, I felt both sadness and relief.

it would have almost been too easy to say goodbye to the place I grew up without having to be here. so here I am, attempting to clean every corner of my childhood and help my mom move into the future too.

it feels so heavy at the moment - so I’m finding ways to release it as I can.

long walks.

talks with my partner and my mom on the deck watching the birds.

playing in the water with my kids.

early morning solo paddles and prayers.

and I’m also finding ways to release the resistance too. to let myself be sucked in, to a certain degree.

to swim in the sweet, sunny surrender.

to let my body soften and relax in this familiar place. knowing I don’t have to be fully consumed, and knowing there is still more out there for me to see.

knowing this is a part of my story, but it’s not all of it.

for so many years, I thought the goal was to leave.

to become “someone.”

to build a life somewhere else.

and maybe I did.

but standing here now, surrounded by boxes and memories and three generations trying to find our footing at the same time, I’m realizing something else.

coming back isn’t the opposite of moving forward.

sometimes it’s part of it.

sometimes the road ahead loops unexpectedly through the places that made us.

and if i’m lucky, I’ll leave this town once again carrying less than I arrived with.

a little less guilt.

a little less responsibility.

a little less resistance.

and a deeper understanding that this place is part of my story …

but not the whole story.

there are still pages left to write, God willing, and I get to be excited about that.

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what season are you in right now?

holding on to what you can’t bear to lose?
letting go of what you thought you knew?
beginning again?
coming full circle?

I’d love to hear in the comments.

and if you’re craving a little space to reconnect with yourself amid the chaos of summer, I’m creating something special for Made for MORE Mama this month - a guided visualization to help you slow down, breathe, and find your way back to yourself.

you can join us here 👇🏼

Made for More Mama

I don’t want to rush past this rainy morning.

I don’t want to start allotting time for each task of the day, and start comparing myself with where I thought I should be at a certain mark of the clock, or panicking about how much I have left to do.

I don’t want to fit my life into boxes,

or clean up the entire house,

or prep the next place to live.

I don’t want to let my friends drift farther away, or start seeing these landmarks of memories of what used to be with sadness.

I don’t want think so hard to say the right things to attract the right clients.

I don’t want to feel pressured to show up, to make an impact, on anyone or any algorithm’s timing or cadence besides my own.

I don’t want to feel like I’m drowning anymore.

so I have this choice, as do you, as do we all … every single day.

after I release my list of what I don’t want in my life anymore, I feel a bit more light. a bit more clear.

because right here in front of me, is so much that I DO want.

I do want my kids to sleep in late on this rainy summer morning, not rushing off to childcare or school or appointments.

I do want a slow morning myself for once (in a long time it seems), no panic upon waking about the time, allowing my cycle to come and do slow yoga to honor my body.

I want to sip my coffee in the disarray of this kitchen, on our last day here, and be at peace with it.

I want to watch this lush, secret garden turn even brighter green with God’s watering.

I want to be optimistic about these big changes ahead, and know it will be what’s best for everyone, even if I can’t see every step of the way so far.

I want to express myself and create and help people, and get paid to exist and share my gifts.

I want to look back at this period of time, and be proud of how my partner and I handled it together, how it brought us closer, and what absolute miracles unfolded because we trusted the process.

if you’re up for it, I challenge you to do the same in your journal or the comments.

• what are you no longer wanting to allow into your life; certain thoughts or ways of being?

• what can you focus on instead, that you DO love about your life, or that you are calling in next?

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I waited with my daughter before the bell rang outside the brick building. the cool spring breeze fluttered her naturally wavy hair as she clung to my arm. she grinned as she watched her friend dismount and park her bike along with her mother, and the two breeze-blown girls came over to us smiling.

my daughter’s friend wore a birthday sash, and we chattered about celebrating and cookies and after school plans.

then they eagerly told us about a robin’s nest right outside their front door, and showed us footage from the camera they set out to watch the incredible and intimate activity of baby birds hatching and being fed by their parents.

the mom was telling me more facts about the birds, but my mind wandered.

“wow,” I thought. “I wonder what it feels like to be able to focus on something so simple.”

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and in years prior, this thought would make my eyes well up on the spot. I would have hid them well under my sunglasses or made a new friend wonder what was wrong with me or what she’d said.

I would have been overcome with sadness, and honestly; jealousy, that a mom could just experience these every day, boringly precious moments with their kids.

while my own kids were completely severed from me for half of the time, at their dad’s house.

while he wouldn’t allow contact between us.

while I wondered what my children were actually doing half of their lives, with only updates from them after his weekly time was up and they were back in my home.

while he unilaterally enrolled them in different schools, childcares, and summer camps without my consent or knowledge until my elementary-aged kids would tell me themselves.

while the attorney fees and emails piled up suffocatingly high, while he continued to ignore all written agreements, while the judge delayed delays upon delays, while I wrote to congressmen about the family court system, while I cried nearly every single day in my car, praying for God to turn this around.

while I remained committed to being an emotionally safe parent, got therapists and counselors involved, and also let them be kids and roam free in our huge yard and do unlimited craft time …

it was hard to focus on baby birds.

it was hard for something so small yet wondrous, to bring me joy.

it was hard to put the weight of the world, my children, my ex, and the looming legal mess, out of my mind.

Share life, rewritten

so today -this is the interesting part- I noticed a different feeling walking away from that exchange with the girls this morning.

I felt the joy in my chest. I was genuinely so happy for them to be excited about this beautiful moment in nature together. I also noticed, that I DO have that. and I always did.

my kids won’t remember the heaviness I felt. I know they can also feel it, and to a limited extent they’re aware of the conflicts, but they will remember little robin moments with me too.

they’ll remember dancing on the deck, campfire cookouts, kites in the yard, books in bed snuggling in before they dozed off.

when you’re in survival mode most times you can’t see your way out. your body and mind feel like it may be this way forever.

but there is a way out, and the way out is through. it’s directly THROUGH the fire, through the pain, through the hard things you think you can’t do.

this hard season isn’t over for me. but it has changed. and it’s changed me.

God has moulded me, and is still forming me, to be more reliant on him instead of myself and other humans and external circumstances.

he’s given me more strength, more patience, and a stronger backbone to stand up for myself. he’s taken from me what I didn’t need, and I do have faith he’ll restore what was stolen.

“I’m going to be like her soon,” I claimed silently as I drove away. I can actually FEEL in my body some of the old heaviness slip away. not because it’s not gone … but because I get to enjoy these transformations taking place.

I get to notice this evolution.

I get to deal with what’s in my control, and let the rest go.

I get to know that it’s all working out for all of us.

I get to focus on what I want to create and the life I want to live.

like what you’re reading? we get more personal + deeper inside of my paid subscriber group, Made for More Mama with monthly live calls & exclusive content! for the mom who knows she’s meant for more than this …

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6 rushed, cursive lines without taking a breath. then, “it all feels impossible!”

complete clarity hit me and through my hand God wrote, “change your focus.” I underlined it. then exhaled, relieved.

Ok.

heard.

we don’t need to know how, when, or why things did or didn’t “work out.”

what IS in our control? learning the lessons those tough seasons taught us. doing better the next time, as much as humanly possible.

making decisions from a higher, spiritual perspective instead of just logic or our limited brains or our fearful, reward-driven ego.

and honestly?
I think so many of us have trained ourselves to scan for danger before we ever allow ourselves to notice beauty.

especially after hard seasons.

divorce. betrayal. deep grief. survival mode. burnout. heartbreak. financial stress. co-parenting chaos. any kind of uncertainty of the future. (just naming a few from experience 🙋🏻‍♀️)

our brain starts believing its job is to prepare for the next hard thing.

so even when good exists…
we almost don’t trust it enough to let it in.

we rush past it.
minimize it.
brace for it to disappear.

but what if healing also looks like learning to hold joy without apologizing for it?

the tiny moments.
the prayers that were answered.
the peace that did arrive.
the version of you that survived things she once thought would destroy her.

because the truth is …
what

we

water

grows. 🌱

and I’m realizing lately that some of us are incredibly skilled at rehearsing our pain … but completely unfamiliar with practicing goodness. (reality check: how many times have you vented to girlfriends or coworkers, or both, about your drama? and how many times do you gush about the goodness? I’ll wait …. )

letting things be good.
not waiting for the other shoe to drop.
not sabotaging peace because chaos feels more familiar.

actually accessing joy. totally on purpose.

that’s actually what we’re diving into inside our May Made for More Mama group call.

not surface-level positivity.
not pretending life is perfect.

but learning how to celebrate the good that does exist… so your body, mind, and spirit remember they’re safe to receive more of it.

more joy.
more peace.
more life.
more presence.

because sometimes the breakthrough isn’t “fixing” everything.

sometimes it’s finally allowing yourself to notice what’s already beautiful and working out in your favor!

if you’ve been craving that lately, I’d love to have you with us inside Made for More Mama this month! (all recordings are available once you join the paid community).

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do you do this too, or has it become more natural after a difficult season to brace for the “bad”?

are you looking for a supportive place to be seen, heard, process, and celebrate as a mom who loves personal growth?

let me know in the comments what landed for you!

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give yourself the permission you’ve been waiting for (you probably don’t even know you’ve been waiting on it).

permission to cancel plans for that thing you don’t really want to attend.

permission to cut your work hours this summer and spend more time in your garden.

permission to stop worrying about how much juice your kid will pour and let them do it themselves.

you KNOW what you want to do …

and yet we wait. we all do it.

I got a permission slip in the mail a few years ago, from a woman I had met at a retreat in Costa Rica. it came along with a 4 digit check to create the illustrations for her card deck.

“permission to be an artist” she had scrawled on the note.

my eyes filled with grateful and unbelieving tears, in my new home, all alone, while silence pierced my ears after my divorce was final.

was this really it? I thought. all I had to do was do what I was guided to do … and it got to be this easy? (not “easy” in a sense of nothing to do - but EASY in a sense that what you are doing lights you the eff up with excitement!)

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and that’s the thing…

most of us squash those permission slips and dismiss them for being too indulgent, too impractical, too far out there.

so we bury those feelings, or we wait.

because deep down, we’re afraid. we’re afraid of letting others down, we’re afraid of what they’ll think, we’re afraid of losing money, we’re afraid of the damn juice on the counter and the sugar intake of our kids.

if I would have let my fears control the narrative, I would not have taken some of “our” money right before the divorce and flown into the jungle to process my pain. I would not have met new friends, experienced lifelong memories, and had new opportunities rise to meet me.

so, please hear me out on this one —-

even the ones that whisper in your ear while you’re brewing coffee, “just check your messages really quick; you’re saving time and there’s no harm done … ”

or, “you should just stay here. you’re comfortable in this house, this town, this job; it feels safe, you have friends here. plus it’s hard to move!”

or, “don’t wear that today, everyone will look at you; it’s too bright / loud / exciting! you can’t pull it off like other women.”

do you SEE?

do you see how those voices, those insecurities, and YES they are called fears, can hold you back so much? even the tiniest of tweaks makes a world of difference in your day, which adds up when you pay attention.

if you just gave yourself permission to stand there and watch your coffee brew, and focused on the present … and instead of grabbing your phone you let your shoulders relax, your forehead soften, your breath deepen …

you’d feel more calm and present.

if you gave yourself permission to even LOOK at different houses, units, locations, opportunities that excite you … (without the promise of a big move, but you could!) …

you’d feel more open to new possibilities, and grateful for what you do have now.

if you gave yourself permission to wear that fun outfit without worrying what others thought or how they’d look it in …

you’d feel more free, more expressive, and more confident.

so here’s the practice.

to get your mind more aware of how literally trained and engrained we are, first there’s a need to notice.

1. notice what you’re doing - and then notice what you actually want to be doing. (sometimes we do have mundane tasks and to sacrifice in ways, yes yes … AND. you can also allow yourself to feel differently about these situations.)

2. next the task is to write down everything you WANT to do on a list. go both little and big here! it doesn’t mean you’ll do them all, just identify them.

   examples: I want to grow a garden, I want to have more support in my business, I want to feel more calm in the mornings getting the kids off to school.

   how do you want to feel? what kinds of things do you desire to do in life? (not for ego and for show, but what does your soul really crave?)

   then …

3. decide which ones can you get behind giving yourself a pass to do.

   which ones can you step into … today?

I cannot wait to know. please tell me in the comments, what you have decided to give yourself permission to do today! 👇🏼🌺

some people LOVE to plan it all out… and I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that.
but I will tell you two things:
a) I am not one of those people
and b) there is usually a lot more going on under the surface of those best laid plans.

I’ll admit, I’ve tried to be the type of person who can imagine where I am in 5 years, and take small bite-sized goals towards that goal, and reverse-engineer it, and be disciplined and the whole nine yards, all while holding on loosely like 38 Special so wisely sings …

and I’d say there was a point where I felt I had it somewhat “figured out.”

I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt like no matter what, we’d get through life together, my husband and I and our 2 tiny adorable humans.

and then one weekday morning I blinked back tears as I buckled the kids into carseats, and ran back into the house for my purse. I frantically searched for what was else was missing … my right hand figured it out as it felt for my wedding ring on my left’s naked ring finger …

and that’s when the floodgates opened. I met the kitchen floor with my knees and let out an animalistic wail - everything I had been holding back came out in just seconds. I realized I would never wear that ring again.

the anger and the sadness were too much for me to bear. for the marriage, for the ring, and everything it had represented.

I WANTED to wear that ring still, dammit. I designed it, I loved it, I was used to it.

but I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t look at it and fool myself and allow other people in the world to look at me and assume I had a husband. because to me, a husband was a promise. a husband made vows and was supposed to be there for better or for worse, and mine had decided to break those. the rock I thought supported me, crumbled beneath my feet.

this unraveling of my life just showed me in yet another powerful way that I don’t know best. and that my free will and applying lipstick on a pig wasn’t working anymore.

the reason I don’t believe in 5 year / 10 year / long term plans is not just because I got a divorce and I think all planning is bullshit.

I’m not cynical and unbelieving that people can actually pull off incremental shifts to make their lives better.

what I AM saying— through lived experience, again and again— is that God knows better than our human brains do.

if I hadn’t gotten a divorce, I may have still believed:

• marriage = unconditional love

• I couldn’t do this life alone

• I wouldn’t ever find someone who truly understands me

• my worth is tied to success

but that wasn’t the path for me, and those were not my truths. God had to shake me wide awake out of that dream, even though it was so painful, because there was SO MUCH MORE life for me out here after that relationship. there was so much for me to learn, and so much of myself that I had tried to suffocate, or morph, to be lovable to someone who didn’t fully love himself.

it was time for me to stop trying to gain affection from someone incapable of giving it.

I had to give this all to myself.

🤗 This is the work we go deeper into inside Made for More Mama—learning how to come home to yourself, rebuild your worth and faith, and create a life that actually feels aligned. If you’re ready for that next layer, you can join us here

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life doesn’t just gently redirect us… sometimes it completely reroutes us.

sometimes we’re pulled way off track on purpose. because, all along, it wasn’t YOUR plan. I do believe God is constantly giving us more chances, to wake up, to choose the life and purpose HE has for us.

and when we can hear that divine guidance, when we can follow those steps …

everyone wins. every single person around us.

because God IS unconditional love, forgiveness, grace, mercy, and aligned action.

when we’re in our purpose, on our path, with our faith as our foundation and guidance, it’s for the highest good for everyone around us - it’s where we are meant to be and who we’re meant to be there with.

God sees what we can’t. even when we’re gripping tightly to something we’re sure is right.

so, you’re not wrong if you suck at planning.
you’re not wrong if you’re white-knuckling your goals …

but what if the very thing you’re desperately holding onto … is what’s holding you back?

what if softening into change — and letting go of the resistance — is exactly what this season is asking of you?

what if surrendering your way… is what’s next?

it sure is for me.

and if you’re in this space too — learning how to let go, rebuild, and trust yourself and God again… that’s exactly what we’re doing inside Made for More Mama. join us here:

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these are the mornings I wake up relieved that they are under my roof, and wonder what I’m going to make for breakfast that everyone will agree on, and to what extent I actually feel like cooking.

these are the mornings I get sleepy hugs and cuddles while they flip on a show and after a little while I reluctantly wriggle free of their tiny tight grips so I can set myself up for the day in the quiet. I write and I pray and I decide how I want today to go in my soft ocean blue office chair while the birds flit around the pine trees out my window.

and then the day proceeds to be nothing - and everything - like I’d intended:

repeating myself eight times for them to either come up to breakfast, or finish breakfast, or put their clean clothes away.

laughs and tickle fights and hog piles on their bedroom floors, while I look around and question aloud if the day should revolve around us completely cleaning and redesigning their rooms and giving away 75% of all toys. we all usually decide against this.

the front door slamming as they excitedly and finally run outside to channel their exorbitant amounts of energy into the right place - instead of fighting with each other or destroying the house.

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and the moment of silence I’m left with. to wonder some more…

should I actually take this moment to write?

should I use this energy to do the cleaning I’ve been needing to do?

what about those small tasks that are building up and driving me nuts, is now the time to get those out of my mind?

those bananas on the counter are morphing from brown to black, now is FOR SURE the time to whip up some muffins …

I crack open my computer, deciding that I’ll feel best if I do what I committed to myself to do: to write.

from the past week or more my ideas are sprawled in my journal, on my Notes app, and from the sporadic, more organized version of myself, on my Asana “Substack” board.

rebellious even against myself, I predictably go with none of the above and decide on THIS - on today, on what’s alive and true, and what I’ll want to remember years from now, and what I want to tell YOU, dear reader …

that none of this is perfect.

none of us have it figured out.

as I sit in my Christmas pajamas in April at 11:15am in my office, while I hear my kids sing at the top of their lungs from downstairs, I deep down know it doesn’t matter if I would have chosen to clean the toilets, or write this article, or make those muffins.

none of that is what matters.

what matters is that my kids feel safe enough to be loud and silly around us in this house. that they run in here and dive into the art cabinet and create their little hearts out, doubling the kitchen table as their studio.

what matters is the time we spend together, at meals, watching movies, playing outside in the hammocks and long walks, having deep conversations about life and growing up and anything at all.

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what matters is what you decide matters.

because as a mom, I know how easy it is to question your every thought and movement.

as a coach and artist and entrepreneur, I know how easy it is to make yourself wrong and let doubt and fear hold you back.

as a human, I know how easy it is to worry about the future and if you’re doing the right things, taking the right steps, and keeping the right company.

for me, there are two main litmus tests:

1. how do I feel? and

2. is this from God?

if I’m not feeling good about something, I know it’s time to address my thoughts, beliefs, or actions on it. this is a very, very succinct sentence on what has taken me years to know how to do, lols.

and if I have a ton of fear, worry, anger, or I’m trying to muscle my way through it - I know that’s either not from God, or how He wants me to handle things. I’ve become so much better at giving it up to my higher power these past few years - and this has had MAJOR calming effects.

so, sweet mama wondering if you’re doing all you can and if it’s in the right order and why the hell do those chicks on Instagram have it all together with 5 kids and 2 multimillion dollar businesses and have their makeup and hair done with a rocking bod? you’re not alone.

and you’re doing just fine.

and if you’re looking for a group of REAL women where you can learn, grow, laugh and be your messiest self with - I’ve created a place just for you.

no pretending we all have our shit together - because that is just SO boring (and untrue)! we also DO celebrate our successes together, and set our sights on what we’re called to do here in this life - while supporting and cheering for each other. I’ve been waiting for a place like this myself :)

here’s to focusing on what matters, today!

thanks for reading life, rewritten! to join our live monthly calls and get exclusive content, upgrade to join the club! 👯

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1. my ass hurts from sitting

2. I’m sick of overthinking, and having so many ideas on what to write about but not making time … so it’s coming out raw & wild style! DONE is better than perfect in this case.

which leads me to the whole point of what I want to say to you today:

it’s good enough. you’re good enough.

you did the work, you put in the effort, now it’s time to detach.

I feel like so many of us obsess over not being “there” yet, or not having xyz yet, or not feeling a certain way, yet …

but the truth is, we just have to know and decide that we’re enough.

exactly as is.

marketing yourself and your business from your home, in your sweatpants, with your tea turning cold, enough.

there’s always tomorrow, yet tomorrow is not promised —-

so that’s the line we’re riding. doing our best, then putting it away, and not making it mean anything about us.

our value doesn’t lie in who pays us, who likes us, the work we do or don’t put out.

our value lies in US. the fact that God created us uniquely and wonderfully and we still have a beating heart in our chest.

knowing this is key, and then being able to detach, to let go - of the work, of the problems, of the stories that replay in our minds …

and move on with our lives and be damn grateful for every breath, even the hard ones -

because as we know they don’t last forever on this earth.

so that’s my message to you, today.

you’re good enough. you’re doing enough. be thankful for that fact. and now go enjoy your real life.

and the pain it leaves in it’s hushed wake can feel like you’re silently drowning.

messages unanswered.
decisions made without you.
a version of the story where your voice is inconvenient, so it’s simply edited out and ignored.

if you’ve ever been close to someone who needed control more than connection, you know this feeling.
the way your presence becomes optional when it once was obligatory.
how your needs feel like interruptions and irritations.
how you start to wonder if you were ever as important as you believed.

this kind of abandonment is disorienting because it comes without closure.
sometimes no final conversation.
sometimes no clean ending.
just gaping distance … and perhaps delivered as if it’s reasonable, justified, even necessary.

here’s the part that matters …

the way someone treats you is not proof of who you are.
it’s a reflection of who they are — and the story they need to tell in order to live with themselves.

being ignored does not mean you are insignificant.
being dismissed does not mean you are difficult.
being erased does not mean you lacked value.

it only means you no longer fit the version of reality they needed to maintain.

for many women, especially those who poured themselves into a family, a partnership, a shared life, erasure cuts deep.
you didn’t just lose a relationship.
you lost the role that your body, your lifestyle, and nervous system were organized around.

and when someone who once relied on you now acts as if you’re replaceable, it can feel like being written out of a story you helped build.

but here’s the truth that took me time to see:

some people have to remove you from their lives — not because you are too much, but because your presence exposes what they refuse to face. your vulnerability, your messiness, your honesty mirrors something in them they refuse to accept about themselves - so it’s uncomfortable and they push you away in blame.

and sometimes the greatest gift comes disguised as abandonment.

because once the noise fades, once the shrinking stops, once you’re no longer performing for someone else’s comfort — your voice returns.

this is where you find out who you truly are without them.

because when you stand up for your beliefs, for yourself, with integrity - people WILL fall away.

and that is the biggest blessing-in-disguise you can actually be gifted. when you start seeing it as an opportunity, a turning point, for the RIGHT people, the supportive people, the unconditional people to enter your life - that’s when victimhood leaves the room and your new, more aligned life and relationships can enter.

reclaiming yourself isn’t always dramatic confrontation, or loud soap boxes.
it starts with remembering who the fck you actually are.

for me, it looked like:

• stopping the urge to over-explain (especially to people who were so intent on not hearing my perspective anyways). Mel’s “Let Them” theory definitely applies here.

• letting silence reveal what my effort once concealed … once you stop pulling the rope, it’s a real eye-opener to see the tug-of-war game cease

• writing what I was never allowed to say; just getting it all out of me and not being afraid of the outcome

• choosing truth over being easy - see ya later, people-pleasing tendencies (this is your call to heal that!)

• rooting my life in what feels aligned, sacred, and steady TO ME. which I learned looks different for everyone and that is a-ok.

and if this has happened to you, the abandonment with or without the conversation, the quiet re-writing of the narrative of your relationship or of you as a person…

just know…

that those empty spaces they’ve tried to “erase”?

will never be actually blank. just because you ignore something - doesn’t mean it’s not there.

your love was there.

your good times were there.

your laughter and jokes and hard times and fights, were there.

the memories and the meals and the families and friends - they all existed.

if this has happened to you and still feels tender (or even raw), here are a few prompts for you to jot down in your journal or notes app. take any or all that resonate … ✍🏼

• name what happened — privately and honestly

• ask yourself, where am I not seeing ME?

• notice where you learned to disappear … when was the first time you were told to be quiet, be less, be different than you innately are? (then hug that inner child who feels that!!)

• what’s something I can create that feels like me?

• where do I audition & try too hard for understanding in relationships?

• can I trust that being removed from their story made space for me to fully live my own life?

you were never meant to disappear.
you were meant to become yourself — fully, finally, and without permission.

the familiar and nostalgic rustling sound of Legos drift down the hall, as the sinking winter sun filters through the windows.

small voices chattering plans and ideas for their build are punctuated by long periods of concentrated silence. as I sneak back into my office as to not interrupt the delicate harmony, with my big mug and afghan on my lap to write, I think, “this is the sweet spot. this is what it’s all about.”

and the “this” that lead us here?

it’s a combination of a few things really.

one is not overbooking ourselves. instead of rushing off to be with other people and fill our calendar with the usual American flurry of excitement through all seasons, I cannot tell you how much joy and space I’ve found in keeping a pretty minimal schedule. the work and school weeks can be busy enough, so on our sacred weekend time I find so much peace in reconnecting with my small little family.

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another reason I’m enjoying the peace right now … is because it’s not always like this. that’s what makes these moments even more sweet … I know they’re temporary. in fact, I had a pretty epic stand-off with my seven year this morning when her tablet time was over. kicking and screaming and crying; we had the full showdown.

after finally getting her into the tub, and her tear-stained cheeks turned from red to pink, I was able to explain to her that I totally understood how frustrating it can be when what happens to her, happens (she’s learning to draw on my iPad and it is a learning process!). this leads me to …

limiting screens for the whole family on the weekends helps us find the elusive boredom too. at least for one day, it is so refreshing to do more of real life.

I have to admit no-screen days started out as a punishment for my son, who frequently gets screen time taken away from behavior … but instead of putting a negative connotation on it, recently I just tell the kids no screens for today / for right now, find something else to do, and they accept it and run off to play.

they get to rustle through their closets and look for games and old toys to resurrect, or make cardboard cities or clay beads or set up a pretend mall or restaurant for us, while dressing the parts. or they eagerly bundle on their winter gear and explore the big white woodsy yard for awhile (until one comes in crying that the other smashed snow in their face, you know, the usual).

my partner and I get to catch up on the house or the yard or the cooking … or just playing with the kids and exhaling.

perfectly timed with this essay, my son just came and sat on my lap and showed me his brick jungle creation with a ruby treasure chest and waterfall, and slowly sighed, “I’m bored,” as he turned his piece over in his hands, admiring his work.

“good,” I said. “I love that.”

but what would they say—

if they knew today…

you had emails from attorneys
and double-digit subzero flurries
and worries piled high to the ceiling?

the mountains of work,
the ex such a jerk,
all while your state’s rallying and reeling?

I’m here to say,
the worries won’t go away,
and there’s always some trouble to sort.

but when we give it to God,
sun appears through the fog
and our spirits will suddenly lighten.

He’ll show us the way,
one step to take today,
and remind that tomorrow’s not here to frighten.

focus on RIGHT NOW
and forget the “but, how??”
and just breathe and just be and be thankful.

thankful the air in our lungs
thankful for loved ones’ hugs,
for the warmth and shelter and food.

thankful for sleep
and the promises He keeps
that this life isn’t all that there is.

thankful for friends
who’s hearts and ears they lend
while traveling these troubling waters.

thankful for time with my wild kids
and the peace when small eyelids
close at the end of each day.

so, yes — it may be hard to keep it “light”
when you’re in a stage of life’s plights —
but you know what? that’s ok too.

be WHO you are,
be WHERE you are,
and you and God will make it through.

some days, I still wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

why I feel so deeply.
why noise, pressure, conflict, and constant “go, go, go” leave me exhausted.
why I crave both more meaning and less chaos at the same time.

but somewhere beneath that familiar self-doubt, I know something else is true:

there is actually nothing wrong with me.

and maybe (probably) … there is nothing wrong with you either.

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not everyone is made for this loud, busy, hostile world. not everyone is wired to chase status, climb ladders, or numb themselves just to survive another week. (nothing wrong with you, either, if you DO enjoy this stuff… but you’re probably reading a different article right now anyways). so many of us are built for depth. for presence. for meaning. for beauty. for a life that feels aligned instead of merely productive.

I’ve carried this knowing in my bones for as long as I can remember.

Romans 12:2 has been a steady anchor for me this past year:

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

that verse really explains my entire life.

it’s why I went to art school while people chirped, “but what will you do for a real job?”
it’s why I bartended, framed art, designed interiors, taught preschool, guided kayaking trips, and worked in galleries while trying out life in the city, on the shores of a Great Lake, and high up in the Rocky Mountains.

making money was never my first goal.

quality of life was.
and it still is.

just because I’ve done life differently has never meant I was doing it wrong.

so maybe there’s nothing wrong with you either if you don’t fit neatly into a cubicle, a system, or a version of success that leaves your spirit empty.

maybe you simply crave more depth than a status quo “normal” life can offer.

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I used to let other people’s fears leak into me. as an entrepreneur, I’ve learned it’s absolutely crucial to use discernment on who you listen to and allow to permeate your being!

some well-meaning voices will say, “you have to grind harder, you should hustle! you have to follow this system” … or … “you have to be more practical.” (this one makes me literally gag.) projecting their own limiting beliefs and fears and doubts onto us, the misunderstood, brave weirdos.

I almost believed that my sensitivity, creativity, and intuition were weaknesses instead of gifts. there was a time that I did, and it separated me from my true north (hence the divorce).

but I know better now, and I hope by reading this you start to know, too.

and I also know this: the places where my belief still wavers are exactly where the world tries to press in the hardest.

when we are deeply empathetic like this …
our hearts don’t skim the surface of life—they enter the deepest depths of it. we carry what others carry. we feel their doubts as if they were our own. we feel the weight and the beauty in full color, volume at max.

so maybe there’s nothing wrong with you, maybe you’re just exhausted from feeling it all and trying to shoulder the unbearable weight.

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add to this empathetic, creative cocktail … perhaps you’re also a mother whose mind never gets to finish a single thought.

you’re making appointments, answering questions, solving tiny crises, remembering birthdays, tracking groceries, tracking your cycle, tracking everyone’s emotions … all while someone is asking you something from the other room and dinner is burning on the stove. it’s not that you’re “too sensitive.” it’s that your nervous system is doing the work of ten people at once.

so maybe nothing is wrong with you, maybe you’re just overloaded and overstimulated.

and maybe you’re not exhausted because you’re weak… maybe you’re tired because you’re doing life without enough hands holding you. maybe you’re under-supported —by a partner who can’t meet you emotionally, by friends who are busy surviving their own lives, by family who live far away or simply don’t show up in the ways you need.

maybe you’re not asking too much.

maybe this pace of life is just too much … for everyone.

and because I’ve noticed I like to end an essay with some some simple action steps, and not just to commiserate with you… but also to help offer solutions …

here’s what I’d do if this were me (because it IS and this is what I DO) :

I’d realize these sensitivities weren’t necessarily flaws in my design.

God made me / us this way on PURPOSE. (woah, neat, huh?)

silencing the voices inside our heads that whisper, “but you’re not doing it as well as they are,” or, “you should be further ahead by now” … etc — name your own limiting belief! — and replace them with kinder thought patterns to yourself.

encourage and direct yourself like you would a good friend, or your own teenage self.

I also ask God to give me guidance. to reveal my gifts and my steps. this I do daily; and then stay in silence and write to receive.

it really is freeing once you can embrace your own unique gifts, quirks, inner workings, and NOT compare them to those in the outside world. we are all so different, yet alike - and wonderfully and uniquely made.

please tell me below - what is one of your gifts you have learned (or are in the process of learning) that is NOT a flaw, but part of your unique design, and how you’ve come to use this to your advantage perhaps? I’d really love to know!

sometimes I see new year’s posts and I want to gag a little bit. it’s overdone, no? it’s overly optimistic, isn’t it? to think that just one fell swoop of a fresh calendar, that we can change our entire lives?

he he. I love this conversation for so many reasons. let’s go for it.

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first of all, as most of us are aware, our old shit WILL still hang around with us, stinking up the air and slowing us down from the previous year(s) … of course it will … IF WE LET IT.

if we don’t take the hypothetical hose and get rid of the gunk before we enter the house … the crap will track in. it will leave little reminders of our mistakes, our shame, our own limiting stories and remind us that ooops … we had some clean up to do.

and that’s ok.

and we can actually do it any day, of any year.

January 1 is just a made-up one by elected Roman consuls who took office on that day, making it the practical “new year” for government and administration.

it doesn’t tie to the new beginnings of nature, like the spring does … when our bodies wake up and ambitions are heightened with the expanding sun here in the Northern Hemisphere.

we can DECIDE, any day, of any year, that we want to let the old stuff go.

we can decide, any day, of any year, what we want to step into going forward.

and while I don’t naturally feel overly ambitious or goal-setty in the darkest part of Minnesota’s winter, I do love me some reflection, gratitude, and new intentions.

so here are a few things for you to ponder on, and I encourage you to grab your pen to jot some of these answers down. (when you write them, your conscious mind sometimes will let go, so it can be actually quite surprising what will come up vs. just “thinking” about them).

1. what are the ways God showed up for me this past year? what surprises did I witness, unexpected mountains moved or detours?

2. what am I most proud of how I handled something?

3. if I made a “more of” list for 2026, what would be on it?

4. what would be on my “less of” list for 2026?

5. what is ONE characteristic trait I’d like to embody more of this next year?

(I did a whole carousel on question # 3 & 4 on instagram, go ahead and peep it here if you’re wanting inspiration: more of THIS in 2026 )

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and … how to actually let the past go? well I thought you’d never ask. after you’ve decided, as we’ve discussed, allow Divine guidance to show you the way. I ask, “God, how would you have me move on from this?” and stop to listen. ask for signs. write what flows freely.

the answers may be take a walk, call a friend, or open an app. from there you may see a sign, run into someone you are meant to, get a tip that leads you in the right direction.

TRUST IT.

quit forcing yourself to change. just allow it.

soften. relax. ask for guidance. receive support.

and as for me? well… this could be a whole post, and maybe it will be … but I am actually fully letting go this year. the past 5 have been a practice at that, with my divorce, moving, family court, career, and relationship.

but this year, I’m all in.

it’s God’s way and not mine.

I’m clearing the way for Him to do what is intended for my life, and not letting my humanly impatience or distractions or fleshly desires sidetrack me anymore. at least I will be doing my damn best to get out of the way!

I’m so excited to see what unfolds from THIS holy, miraculous place. I’ll keep you posted.

tell me below, what came up for you while reading this? which prompt hit you?

happy “new year” to you, and thanks for being here :)

maybe it’s been a rough year, but either in the silence, or with you heading the household alone now, you finally feel a bit more at ease.

your body can soften.

no more walking on eggshells to avoid a fight.

no more hoping it will all miraculously change and there will be peace with your family under one roof.

because now you know. you know what you were settling for in the past, and you know that now you’re different.

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you’re not accepting the bare minimum, the negativity, the different forms of abuse if you’re honest, the emotional neglect, the dishonesty.

you’ve been through so much, while trying to protect and heal and grow your kids through it too.

it feels like you’ve been holding up a tent in a raging storm; trying to be the safe and dry place for you and your children, while the wicked winds whip and crack outside of your thin canvas, threatening to knock you over with each emotional and financial gust.

but you’ve done it. you’ve weathered the storm. you’ve said no more.

and now you’re simultaneously sad and relieved.

both empowered and beaten down.

both free and yet still imprisoned … by your own thoughts and fears, the legal system, by your coparent’s decisions and retaliations.

if this is you right now, and you’re still reading …

I want you to know this:

this is a SEASON, my friend. even though it seems like you will feel like this forever, (because honestly, you’ve been down for awhile and it’s hard to envision anything else sometimes) … you do not have to stay here.

it takes time, yes. but the myth that “time heals all wounds” is just that … a myth.

time scabs over the wounds but it does NOT HEAL root causes and core traumas.

time takes the sting out, it gives refreshing distance … but it does not actually *fix* anything.

old cycles and eroding patterns of fear, abandonment, insecurities, anger management, avoidance and more will rear their ugly heads yet again and again if we do not deal with them now.

and your divorce is the catalyst for your next chapter getting better than what you’ve settled for in the past.

in my upcoming 7-day container, Wrap Up & Level Up, I guide you into closing out this rough year. we get to reflect on what you did well, and how far you’ve come (I highly doubt that you’re celebrating this enough!). we get to get honest about what can improve and HOW to get there.

I’m going to help you reconnect to your JOY. because I can speak from experience — the joy in life can be severely lacking in those years of fighting, isolation, legal battles, heartbreak, moving, and stress. you deserve to know how to incorporate these moments of happiness into each day, even when you’re a busy mama!

then we’re going to anchor you into what feels good and productive to you by assessing your daily routines - which feels intimidating but I promise this will be LIFE CHANGING and actually doable. the habits you create now will set you up for years of progress and feeling good about yourself.

of course, to set you up for the next year in all relationships (family, friends, romantically, and with yourself) - we have to focus on setting boundaries and standards … for you and the other people in your life. no more living to please others and bending backwards while sacrificing your own values; this time it gets to be different, REALLY!

finally in Wrap Up & Level Up, we’ll drop into your new identity - the person you want to be going forward, and set positive intentions and action steps for you to move forward with.

this all happens from December 14-21 … on your own time, there are no calls or schedules.

each day for 7 days I’ll drop audios and written prompts that you can get to when it works best for you that day.

so if you’re a mother going through this season, whether you’re newly divorced, going through the process, or have been separated for awhile and ready to FINALLY feel better and focus on yourself … and you’re ready to shift some things - THIS is for you. don’t wait until January 1 to make moves.

be the support you need - say yes to YOU and watch the world respond accordingly.

Wrap Up & Level Up - more info!