Getting Real

I sat here today taking yet another painful hit to my gut. I was told that my offer was accepted on a house I really loved and then it was ripped out from under me by them signing with another buyer.

I realize now that the anguish I'm feeling isn't really about the house. It's about the feeling the acceptance gave me... that everything was finally going to be okay.

I never imagined that this change in my life, moving here, would create so much unraveling and unsteadiness.

I never imagined it would be so difficult to find a place to live.

I have stewed in some much loss, frustration and shame at the mess I've made for myself and my dogs, and also at the interruption I've made in my cousins' lives. (Although they are far too generous to admit it and I couldn't love them more for it.)

I caught myself going back through last year's blog posts.

I was so proud of myself for my growth. Hope and optimism were pulsing through my veins. It felt like life was finally flowing through me as it was intended.

And I find myself asking...

Where the hell did that girl go?

How did I lose myself so badly AGAIN?

How could I let this kind of regression happen?

And as quickly as my mind starting asking those questions, I was brought to a completely different view.

I haven't regressed.

I'm not bypassing hard emotions. I'm not running or hiding. I'm hitting this straight on and feeling every ounce of it.

I'm tired.

I'm shaken.

I'm desperately seeking something steady enough to stand on again.

But this is the realist I've ever been.

My progress isn't lost. It's just waiting for steady ground to root and grow.

After Everything Breaks

The days have turned into a year now. Here I am still trying to find my way to a new version of me.

Prior to April 1, 2025, I had a vision of what my life would be. A beautifully painted picture of Tony and I putting the hard times behind us and finally being able to be together like we always wanted. I was on my way to WV to be with Tony when I got the call from Pat. In the moment his voice fell silent, panic set in. I just kept screaming no. But when I knew it was real, when I knew he was gone, I felt my entire being shatter. I lost him, I lost the version of myself I was excited to become. My beautiful picture cracked into hundreds of tiny fragments that I knew I could never put back together.

Looking back now, I see it as a kaleidoscope. All those tiny fragments constantly shifting. There were still pieces of color. Still tiny pieces trying to hold on to light. Nothing stable. Nothing that stays still long enough to feel safe. I've been living in that kaleidoscope ever since.

I had no idea the deep toll it has taken on me... until now. It's come to rest on me with such a weight that makes it hard to breathe or move sometimes.

It's not about having a bad moment or a bad day. It goes far beyond that.

My son has flown the nest sooner than expected.

I've purged and packed up my belongings in a very stressful move.

I've been put into the unfortunate position of losing my job that I've loved.

I find myself in a space of more uncertainty now than ever. Everything has been stripped away. In full transparency, I got lost in it the past week or so. I've had some very dark days buried in self pity and full of anger towards God and the universe for how this all feels. I resented myself for feeling weak, tired and so damn unprepared.

I cried out asking for clarity and direction. And as always, I was not disappointed. The message settling within my soul now is that my focus got skewed. Rather than staying in the kaleidoscope watching the pieces fall away, I am meant to focus on what was left after everything breaks.

And that is me.

It's time for me to paint a new picture for myself. To show myself, and for Jack to see, a version of me that can learn, grow and build something new and steady...

even when it hurts.

The Weight of the World

So I'm up at 3:30 a.m. on this Sunday morning with so much swirling around in my head. It's a very stressful time. All the chaos of planning to move, all that goes with that... seeing the emptiness in my immediate space increase on a daily basis and having to pack up Tony's belongings. But also, feeling the heaviness of the world outside of me.

I took a break yesterday to escape to social media. I couldn't avoid posts about the Epstein files no matter how much I scrolled. The implications of what was happening were so grotesque and disturbing for my mind, and more so my heart, to even comprehend.

I sat crying, feeling overwhelmed with sadness and disgust.

Sadness for the children.

Sadness for the world at large.

Anger towards the monsters that could perpetrate something so horrific.

I sat wondering what God will do with them. Hoping that the research I've seen is true and they will dissolve into nothingness.

I became so overwhelmed and realized that I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to carry it all. It was too much.

I questioned myself.

Am I trying to bury my head in the sand?

Am I too weak of a human being?

Am I selfish or irresponsible for not wanting to see it?

I finally asked the question... is this mine to carry? Should I be forcing myself to take on the weight of the world when my nervous system is already overloaded? Is that my obligation as a human being?

A clarity washed over me that I have never known before. There was a sense of responsibility most immediately to myself. I could care deeply, but my instinct was to protect myself. What I'm now learning is self-regulation.

We all have physical and emotional limits. What I used to see as weakness, I now understand as wisdom. My greatest responsibility is to myself, those I love and what I'm here to accomplish. I gave myself permission to protect and preserve my energy.

My soul was governing my nervous system, as it was meant to. There is a very important distinction now in my inner being and what goes on outside of that.

• I can care deeply about the world without letting it consume me or collapse inside me.

• I can take those overwhelming emotions and imagine them as a chapter in a book that I've closed and put on a shelf.

• I can protect my peace so that I can stay grounded, show up and live and love as I am meant to.

I believe with great certainty that we were never meant to carry all of the sorrow and pain that surrounds us in this world. It's so easy to get caught in the current. Our bodies will send us a life preserver when we've reached our limits. It's up to us to reach out and grab it.

It's not selfish. It's not denial of anything. It's the simple logic that allowing myself to drown in the weight of the world doesn't do anyone any good. The best version of me needs to show up in this world.