Soft Colors Felt

 This morning, as music echoed softly from one of those calming YouTube channels and the screen drifted through scenes of nature, I felt myself settle into a quiet, almost surreal moment. The colors of Fall, yellow, gold, orange, rust, seemed to flow together with a brightness and warmth that wrapped around me. Even the shadows of tree branches felt like they were woven into the light, forming a gentle contract that made everything feel dream like. For  a little while, I allowed myself to get lost in the drifting beauty of it all, surrounded by the warmth of the falling colors. And when I finally came back to the present, I felt grounded, refreshed, and ready to begin a new day.

October 6th Reflection

 The Tree of Life Within

Resilience is not about standing untouched; it is about standing rooted, like the Tree of Life. I've learned that strength is not found in avoiding the storm, but in allowing my roots to reach deeper because of it. The unseen places, the pain, the loss, the quiet rebuilding, become the soil that nourishes new growth.

Each scar tells a story of endurance, each branch a reaching toward light after darkness. There is beauty in the bending, grace in the breaking, and wisdom in the waiting between seasons.

When I imagine the tree within me, I see a living prayer, my spirit grounded in truth. My heart open to release what no longer serves me, and my soul ever reaching toward what's next. Resilience is my reminder that even after the fiercest winds, I still can stand, steady, rooted, and alive with possibility. 

October 3, 2025

October has arrived with crisp mornings and golden light, and I find myself pausing in its stillness. My life feels peaceful now, even with the losses and struggles I’ve carried through the years. I’m happy, living the best I can, but this season always seems to bring its own lessons.

Parenting young adults is its own kind of balancing act, being Mom and being a friend, knowing when to step in and when to simply step back. It’s a love that requires trust and space. At the same time, I’m learning how to stand in this new chapter, life without kids at home, and without a partner beside me.

This month also carries milestones. On October 8th, it will be ten years since his passing, a decade gone in what feels like the blink of an eye. I miss him everyday. But this year, I won’t have much time to linger in the sadness and the ache. I’ll drive to Phoenix after work, stay with my daughter, then fly to Colorado the next day to see friends. Maybe that’s as it should be, life nudging me forward.

Still, October makes me restless. I want to be bold and fearless, to step fully into life, even as I notice the ways I hold myself back. The season feels like an invitation, not just in the colors of the trees or the coolness in the air, but in my own spirit.

Maybe this October, I’ll listen to that invitation. Maybe I’ll let the falling leaves remind me how to release, how to turn, how to begin again.

Catching up

It’s hard to believe tomorrow is the 1st day of August. The year has moved like a quiet current sometimes steady, sometimes unpredictable but always nudging me forward.  Forward is all I know to do, always looking for the blessings and joys along the way.

Back in February, I wrote about closing the chapter on 2024 and stepping into 2025 with a heart open to whatever would come next. I didn’t have all the answers (I still don’t), but I had a deep desire to move forward with more intention, more creativity, and more peace. Looking back now, I can say, I've stayed true to that path.

I have been exploring new creative expressions—watercolor, mixed media, art journaling. I’m allowing myself to play, to experiment, to color outside the lines (sometimes literally). If I don’t feel like painting, I color in a book or write a poem. 

Professionally, I’ve settled more deeply into my role as Community Liaison. It’s not always an easy space to hold—balancing people, rules, and expectations—but I’ve found my voice in it. I’ve learned when to speak gently, when to stand firm, and when to simply listen. There’s a strange kind of art in that too.

And then there’s my writing. Quietly, almost behind the scenes, it’s been growing. I’ve been gathering poems, journal reflections, and ideas for a creative workbook, something that weaves together healing, faith, and self-expression. I don’t know exactly what shape it will take yet.

In the stillness,  I’ve learned to let go of how things should look, and to trust how they feel.

And so, here I am—August 2025. Still growing.

There’s still so much of the year left to live. So many stories yet to unfold. I'm looking forward to what's next....

2024 closes and a New Year begins

Closing the Chapter on 2024 and Embracing the New Year

As I take a moment to reflect on the past year, I experience a mix of emotions—gratitude, resilience, and a quiet understanding of how far I've come. 2024 was a year of growth, filled with lessons wrapped in both joy and heartache, and I discovered peace in unexpected places.

Throughout the year, I leaned into my creativity, using paint and words to express what my heart sometimes struggled to articulate. I let go of expectations—how things should be, how people should behave, and how life should unfold. Instead, I embraced the flow, trusting that every twist and turn has a purpose.

There were moments of solitude that brought clarity, as well as moments of connection that reminded me how deeply love and kindness shape our journeys. I found comfort in faith, journaling, and in the birds that greet the morning with their songs. I explored new ways to heal, create, and gradually open my heart again—cautiously, but with hope.

Now, as the first month has come to an end and February  unfolds, I feel the promise of fresh beginnings. I don’t claim to have it all figured out, but I do know this: I will continue to move forward with intention. I will embrace what is meant for me and release what is not. I will allow myself to dream, create, love, and believe that what lies ahead will be just as meaningful as what has passed.

Here’s to the lessons of yesterday and the possibilities of tomorrow. 

Bring on the New Year!

Embracing Change: From Breakdown to Breakthrough

From Breakdown to Breakthrough

It's amazing how quickly things can change. I can go from breaking down and crying to feeling like a weight has been lifted off me and being happy! On June 25th, I broke down and sat in all of my emotions one last time, letting go of Ben and allowing him to move on with his life. Oddly enough, I have him to thank for helping me reach closure. He knew he upset me and felt bad. Later on, I found out that he had texted a good friend of mine and told him that he needed to call me. In that conversation, my friend Kevin reminded me that he was turning 50 on July 5th and suggested it would be a perfect time to get away and take a break from it all. The next day, I spontaneously booked a flight to Colorado Springs for the long 4th of July weekend.

It seems that from that moment forward, things started to fall into place! I applied for a new job and my interview was last week on Tuesday, July 2nd at 9:00 a.m. By 12:00 noon, I was offered the position and accepted, and put in my two-week notice on the spot! That evening, I had my paint and sip event that had been planned, and it turned out to be the best group I've had. They really enjoyed themselves. In fact, I had two sets of couples ask if I would come to their home and do a paint and sip there sometime. I was on a roll of saying yes for the day, so I said yes! Now, I have a lead on a side hustle that I think can work out to be cool and fun! I was walking on cloud nine! I was so happy and felt so alive and ready for a new start. My trip to Colorado Springs was so needed and so awesome! I'm ready to move forward!

Reflecting on a Year of Change

It will be one year since Ben and I ended our six-year relationship. At first, I thought I was doing well, but lately, it feels like I'm back to square one. It's frustrating and disheartening; sometimes, I don't know how to cope.

Being alone has its perks, but it also has its downsides. I don't want to be alone forever. I long for the companionship of someone to come home to, to talk to, and to cuddle with while watching a funny show. It's the little things I miss the most.

Despite these feelings, I'm managing. Most of the time, I'm okay by myself. There are great things about being alone, like the freedom to do what I want, when I want, and the time to focus on myself. But at the same time, it's tough not having someone to share life's moments with.

Lately, I've found myself slipping back into old habits of distraction, avoiding quiet times so I don't dwell on thoughts of the past. It's a constant battle to stay present and not let those memories overwhelm me.

I know this is just a phase, and it will pass. Healing isn't straightforward, and it's okay to have setbacks. I'm trying to be kind to myself and take things one day at a time. Here's hoping that the coming months bring more clarity, peace, and some new beginnings.