Well, here I am again. I can’t seem to silence the voice in my head. It keeps screaming the same thing, over and over. I’ve tried to distract myself, to ignore it, but it only grows louder. It’s relentless. The last time I heard this voice was back in 2014, when I started writing The Journey of the Widow Diva blog. Do you remember her?I stopped writing in 2017 for reasons I never really shared, but I never forgot those years. I never forgot you. I missed this space, this connection. There were countless moments I thought about returning, but something always held me back. It never felt quite right… until now.Now, it feels like time.Time to listen to that voice.Time to release the words I’ve been holding in for years.I no longer have The Journey of the Widow Diva website, and in many ways, it feels like I’m starting from scratch again, just like I did one late night in 2014, sitting on my sofa in our family home, Googling “How To Start A Blog.” But there’s a big difference between then and now. Back then, my words came from a broken heart. Now, they come from experience.This journey has been brutal, but also incredibly beautiful. It’s broken me down and built me back up, and somehow, through it all, it’s been healing. I’ve grown from the love of those who stayed, and I’ve learned hard lessons from those I had to let go. Life keeps handing me new beginnings, and by the grace of God, I’ve finally come to understand who I am. I’m a woman with scars, and I proudly own every single one. Each scar is a reminder that wounds can heal. And though I still carry a few bruises that haven’t yet faded, I believe they, too, will become part of my story. Another chapter. Another beautiful scar.So here I am, again. I am still standing. I’m ready.
Okay… Have Mercy!
Down here in the South, that’s really our polite way of saying “WTF” without scaring the neighbors. Or maybe it’s just the way I’ve learned to hold it together while muttering “have mercy” while screaming in my head what I really mean: “WTF…You’ve got to be kidding me.” And if you’ve read anything I’ve written lately, you know I’ve had plenty of “have mercy” moments. Moments when life throws the occasional emotional tornado straight at my face.
But here’s the thing: I’m no different from anyone else. We all go through moments in life when it feels like plot twists are being thrown at us faster than we can rewrite the story. I might just be one of the few who openly shares some of those moments with you. But the truth is simple: we all carry struggles. The only difference I can see is how differently people survive them.
For me, I’ve learned that some moments in life I can move through more quickly, while others make me scream “have mercy” a little louder. The past few I’ve been experiencing have slowed me down a bit. I got quiet and listened to the parts of my heart that needed attention. I realized that I could either rise above my emotions or succumb to them. And that will continue to be a daily decision for me.
Life can be exhausting at times, but somehow, I still end up laughing. Sometimes out of survival, sometimes because the alternative is crying in the produce aisle again. But when life is rude, messy, or completely off the rails, I still find a spark of humor. A tiny flicker that says, “Alright, this sucks….but we’re not going down like that.” Because I know lightness isn’t something I stumble upon. It’s my choice to seek it. It’s something I pack in my purse right next to my lip gloss, sunglasses, and snacks… You know, the true essentials, just in case my life continues to act up.
Not everybody chooses that path. Some people look for quick comfort or quick fixes. And you know what? That’s okay. You do you. We’re all in this together, surviving- doing the best we can, figuring it out as we go, tripping occasionally, even if that involves sweatpants, ice cream, or one good laugh at a time.
So yeah, take it from me, it’s socially acceptable to take a deep breath and yell “WTF” at the top of your lungs. Just don’t forget to keep searching for the lighter moments and more laughter, because we all know…. life will continue to hand us more of those “have mercy” moments.
PEACE, Love, and Hugs!
So here we are, two weeks into 2026. How’s it going for you so far? Because if I’m being honest, I’m still standing in some of the emotional aftermath of 2025, trying to make sense of what that was all about. Am I the only one who had a few more “WTH” moments than expected and is still carrying some of the remnants of 2025? The kind that leaves you staring at the ceiling at night, replaying conversations, decisions, and realizations you didn’t see coming? 2025 felt heavy. It was an eye-opening year for me, which began within the first week or so. The kind of difference that quietly rearranges how you see people, and yourself. It wasn’t easy to accept. But clarity rarely is. The year also began with a historic snowstorm. Looking back, that storm feels like it was the preview of what was to come for me. It arrived unexpectedly and cold, much like the year ahead that would challenge me. But it was magical while revealing its beauty.
I felt the shift somewhere in the middle of the year when life no longer felt as heavy as it did at the beginning. For me, that middle stretch of the year was about learning how to live with the realizations instead of fighting them.
Then the last two months arrived with yet another snowstorm, this time in the form of my mother falling ill. It was another reminder of how fragile time is and how quickly everything can change. When she pulled through and was able to come home, spending the holidays with us felt like a gift we didn’t take lightly. And just when I thought the year had finally loosened its grip, December 31st arrived, and she was taken back to the hospital. One last reminder that life moves on its own terms, and certainty is never promised.
My 2025 snowstorm may have smacked me in the face with a snowball, but it clearly revealed the people who choose to hold me close and truly mean it. I learned those are the people worth holding onto tighter. Even if you do not share roots or blood with them. Not out of obligation. Not out of shared history. But out of love and loyalty. I also learned that some expectations I placed on people based on who I thought they were or what I thought I meant to them only exist in my own heart. As painful as that realization is, it’s also freeing, releasing me from the obligations and expectations I once placed on myself for them.
I may have experienced a heavy, cold year, but it didn’t freeze me. It didn’t harden my heart; it softened it. It showed me that my heart remains open to growth and open to anyone who genuinely wants to be there. I feel the moment you start living with acceptance, life becomes lighter and clearer.
Stepping into 2026 hasn’t magically reset everything. I don’t know how much longer my mother will be with us, and with the possibility of snow making another rare appearance here in Louisiana next week, I have no idea what this year holds for me. However, I do know I will enter it with intention. The truth I’m choosing to take into 2026 is that heaviness doesn’t cancel growth, and acceptance without expectations has become my quiet goal.
Some years don’t arrive to reward us. They arrive to reshape us.
Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
Today marks 12 years since we lost Shawn. So much has happened in those 12 years, and it’s still hard to believe that this much time has passed.
Over the past few days, I’ve spent hours watching family videos that our daughter lovingly compiled for us. As I watched them, I kept thinking how, in those moments, I never in a million years imagined I would one day be watching them without him.
These videos are snapshots of our beautiful little family. The births of our children, their birthdays, school and church performances, dance recitals, baseball games, and family vacations. There are even clips my kids took of themselves, just being normal, silly kids in our living room. Moments that felt ordinary then, but feel incredibly sacred now.
Watching these videos has reminded me just how fast time moves. How the days feel long, but the years pass in the blink of an eye. More than anything, they remind me how precious memories are and how beautiful it is that we have them to hold onto when everything else keeps moving.
Even after 12 years, there are still some things I can’t quite bring myself to do. One of them is saying the word dead in the same breath as Shawn’s name. If you’ve ever heard me speak of him, you may have noticed I never say it. Even writing that word feels like pressing my hand on a painful bruise.
These videos have helped me find more pieces of him tucked inside my heart, little treasures he left behind without knowing. In them, I still hear his voice, his laughter, and see the pure love he had for us.
I’ve made peace with knowing Shawn is gone, but dead feels too final for someone who is still so present within me. He lives on in the courage that rises in me when I need it most, in the faith he had in me- faith I now hold onto when I start to doubt myself. He lives in my ability to keep moving forward, and in my willingness to share my heart once again, but with only those who respect my boundaries.
And in watching these videos, I realized something else, back then, Shawn didn’t know he was capturing the very gift he would one day give back to me. A gift lovingly revealed through our daughter, who gathered these moments and gave them back to us as a quiet, sacred Christmas gift- one delivered through him.
If these years have taught me anything, it’s this: love doesn’t end- it transforms. It becomes courage, wisdom, and resilience. And by the grace of God, every step I take forward is proof that even through loss, life can still be meaningful, purposeful, and full of hope.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Ho ho ho…. ’tis the season, and now let’s go.
This is the season that is supposed to be the most joyous, happiest time of the year. The season of magic. The season of giving. The season of Mariah Carey.
But hear me out. I think it’s time we do Christmas… differently.
Because, as adults, Christmas isn’t magical anymore. It’s aggressive. It’s deadlines in tinsel. It’s your bank account screaming while you whisper, “It’s fine.” It’s pretending you’re excited about socks while your soul leaves your body.
So this year, I propose a reboot. A new tradition. A grown-up remix of the 12 Days of Christmas, but instead of partridges and golden rings, we lean into chaos, survival, and very questionable choices.
Let’s begin.
Day One: Do Something Weird
Not illegal. Just confusing. Tell one person you’re “really leaning into winter feral mode.” Keep them guessing.
Christmas magic thrives on discomfort.
Day Two: Drink Margaritas
Yes, even though it’s cold.
No, you don’t need a reason.
Christmas cocktails are too polite. Margaritas don’t judge. Margaritas say, You’ve had a long year, babe. Margaritas don’t care if you’re wearing fuzzy socks and emotional damage.
Day Three: Buy Yourself the Gift
Because let’s be honest- no one else is going to get it right.
Wrap it. Put it under the tree. Act surprised. Say “Wow, how thoughtful” out loud. This is called self-care.
Day Four: Cancel One Thing
A party. A dinner. A “quick coffee.”
Just because it’s December doesn’t mean your calendar has to look like a cry for help. Say no.
Watch the world continue spinning without you.
Day Five: Eat Raw Cookie Dough for Dinner
Not as a treat- as a lifestyle choice.
Milk if you’re fancy. Judgment ignored. Worry optional. You’re an adult. Adults can do this.
Let’s not overthink the science.
Day Six: Watch a Movie You’ve Already Seen 47 Times
Because no one needs new plots in December.
You know what’s going to happen. They’re going to fall in love. The town will be saved. The dog will live.
Day Seven: Lie a Little
Nothing harmful- just festive fibs.
“No, I’m not stressed.”
“Yes, everything is almost done.”
“I totally remembered the Secret Santa gift exchange.”
This is called seasonal delusion, and it’s allowed.
Day Eight: Take a Nap Like It’s Your Job
No alarms. No guilt. Just vibes.
If someone asks what you did today, the answer is “recharged.”
You’re basically a human iPhone.
Day Nine: Wear Something Completely Inappropriate for the Weather
Because fashion has no temperature.
Tiny black dress in December? Go girl! Be brave.
You’re not cold- you’re committed.
Day Ten: Rage-Clean One Area of Your Home
Not the whole house. Don’t be insane.
Just one drawer. One shelf. One mysterious pile. Throw things away dramatically. Feel powerful. Lose steam immediately afterward.
Day Eleven: Lower Your Expectations
Lower. Lower. Even lower.
There it is. Peace.
Day Twelve: Do Absolutely Nothing
No traditions. No obligations.
Just exist. Breathe. Possibly scroll in silence.
Congratulations- you survived another year.
Because here’s the truth that no one puts on a Hallmark card: being an adult during Christmas is weird. You’re tired. You’re nostalgic. You’re broke but still festive. You miss things, you love things, you overthink text messages, and you’re one minor inconvenience away from crying in a Target parking lot like it’s another scheduled holiday event.
And that’s okay.
So ho ho ho. ’Tis the season. Now let’s go- slowly, sarcastically, and with a margarita in hand.
PEACE, Love, and Hugs!
Once upon a time, I drove a minivan and lived in a house on a quiet cul-de-sac. My three children grew up in that home, surrounded by a little tribe of neighborhood kids who ran from yard to yard as if the whole block belonged to them. My garage door was always open, and in the corner sat an old refrigerator stocked with Capri Suns. Every child knew they could walk right in and grab one whenever they felt thirsty. And just as naturally as the kids drifted in and out, so did the parents—the neighbors who became friends, the friends who felt like family. We hung out at the end of driveways, borrowed cups of sugar, and raised our children side by side without even realizing we were building something bigger than a neighborhood.When I look back at that time, I didn’t know how quickly the years would fly. I didn’t know that one day I would no longer live in that house. I didn’t realize how fast my children would grow, or how soon the little faces in those photos would become adults living lives of their own. Back then, it felt like that season would last forever—the summer evenings, bikes in the street, the wet towels on the driveway.But life has a way of moving forward, even when our mommy hearts aren’t ready.Looking back now, I had no idea that those neighbors—the parents of the kids who played with my children—would still be in my life today. I didn’t know they would become the ones who would hold me up through the hardest seasons, who would show up long after the Capri Suns were gone and the garage door no longer stood open. I couldn’t have imagined that years later, we’d be here, on an ordinary Sunday night, sharing old photos and remembering the lives we once lived, the children we once buckled into car seats and called inside for dinner.Where did the time go? Sometimes I wish I could step back into one of those afternoons—the ones filled with scraped knees, sticky popsicle hands, and the neighbors who didn’t need invitations. I wish I had known then how precious it all was, how the ordinary days were quietly becoming the stories we’d someday cherish.But maybe that’s a gift of looking back: realizing that what felt simple was actually extraordinary. What we built while our children played has carried us into a new season—one where the kids are grown, but the friendships remain. One where the memories still make us laugh, and sometimes cry. One where the people who once stood beside us in cul-de-sac summers are the same ones who stand beside us now, in all the beautiful and complicated chapters that came after.Time goes quickly, yes. But the love and life poured into those years didn’t fade. It lives on in our children, in our stories, and in the friendships strong enough to withstand the change of houses, the passing of seasons, and the growing up of everyone who once ran barefoot in that cul-de-sac.And so here we are—still connected, still sharing pieces of our lives, and grateful for the days that flew by.
This isn’t going to be a long post, just a heartfelt one.
I am writing to express my deepest gratitude for all your thoughts and prayers over the past month. They have meant more than you know. And today, I’m grateful to share that we’re taking my mom home.
This Thanksgiving, we are blessed to have her with us. If I’ve ever wondered what true gratitude feels like…today is that day. Maybe not for the reasons others might expect-but for me, gratitude today means something deeper. I am grateful to know that, for reasons only He knows, God decided it was time for her to come home to her earthly home and not her Heavenly one. I trust that His purpose goes far beyond anything I can imagine. And I am grateful to remember that I don’t have to rely on my own understanding, but instead lean fully on His.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart! Wishing you an early Happy Thanksgiving!
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Today would’ve been your 60th birthday. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what you would look like now. Would your hair be sprinkled with gray, with just a hint of that red still shining through? Would time have traced a few wrinkles across your face? Would you still be the same person you were when you were here with us? Still chasing fun, still hunting, still doing all the things that made you….you?
I may never know the answers to those questions. But what I do know is this: if you were still here with me, your beautiful, famous smile would be exactly the same. I’m sure you would still love me just as fiercely as you always did, and I know I could really use one of your hugs right now. Life has been heavy lately, and I miss the way your hugs made everything feel safe.
I hope you’re having the happiest heavenly birthday. We miss you. We love you. And we will never let your legacy fade.
Cheers to you, Shawn. I will forever love you.
For the past three weeks, I have been blessed with the opportunity to love my mother in a more meaningful way. In that time, I’ve also found room to release old anger and forgive myself for the times I didn’t understand her.She continues to teach me through lessons I never saw coming and moments that will stay with me always. Sitting beside her hospital bed, I realized something profound: no matter how weak, confused, or exhausted a mother may be, she never stops being a mother. Even in the moments when my mom doesn’t fully know where she is, there are flashes of clarity, tiny sparks that remind me she still knew who I was, who we are, and that her heart was still doing what it had always done: loving and protecting her children.There were times she worried we would drive home too late. One night, she even told me to sleep beside her. Did she understand she was lying in a hospital bed? I’m not sure. But what I do know is that her instinct to care for me remained, untouched and unwavering.That’s the thing about a mother: we will protect our children, love our children, and put them before ourselves, no matter what the situation is. That kind of love doesn’t fade. It doesn’t break. It doesn’t get confused, even when the mind does.My mother will always be my mother. And we, her children, will always be hers. No matter what state she’s in, and no matter what state we’re in, that bond stays. That love protects. That love endures.I want to close by thanking each of you for your prayers. My mother continues to fight, and we are fighting with her every step of the way. She is doing much better. Our deepest prayer is that she becomes strong enough to come home for Thanksgiving, to be wrapped in the love of her family, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. In the end, this is what life is all about- returning to the love that she began when she became a mother.Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
If you have been following along, you already know that when I write, it’s rarely planned. Most of the time, they’re just random thoughts that build up in my mind and need to be released. I don’t always understand them myself, but somehow, writing them out helps me find a bit of peace.Tonight’s thought… is about my feet. I know… random, right?These are my feet—the ones resting on the hospital sofa, where I’ve been sleeping beside my mom. There are a thousand other thoughts that should be running through my head right now, but somehow my mind keeps circling back to my damn feet.Try to stay with me here…..These are the feet my mother helped me learn to walk on. The same feet that followed her through the grocery store aisles and fabric shops, watching her pick out fabric to sew our clothes. These are the feet that walked up the aisle with my father toward Shawn on my wedding day, while my mother stood proudly. These are the same feet that walked to his casket, with my mother walking beside me, holding me up when I could barely stand.Now, these are the feet that walk the hospital halls, the feet that stand next to my mother’s bed, the feet that march to the nurses’ station, demanding that her meds are given on time.We still don’t know what the future holds for my mother, but one thing I do know is this: These feet will keep standing strong for her, for the woman who once held my hands as I learned to walk, and who now needs us to walk and stand tall for her.Peace, Love, and Hugs!
It’s 2:15 am, and I’m lying next to you on a small seat in this cramped, noisy hospital room. I know I should be sleeping, but somehow, I feel a strange comfort being here, watching you sleep.I know that God has a plan. My faith tells me not to question it, so whatever He has planned for you, I want you to know that we will be here, with you, for you, and we will be your voice.There are moments when our eyes meet. In those moments, I see a reflection of myself, what I might one day be, looking into my own children’s eyes from a hospital bed. And my prayer is that they will always know how deeply they are loved, even if I’m ever unable to say it out loud. Because when I look into your eyes, I feel it, you’re telling me you love me, without having to say a single word.And maybe, just maybe, this is God’s plan. Maybe He’s giving me this time to be with you, to see you in a different light, to love you in a deeper way. It’s hard, though. It’s hard for a child to come to terms with watching the strong mother who once carried the world on her shoulders slowly become a softer, weaker version of who she once was. But maybe that’s part of His plan too, teaching us to surrender, to step in, and to be the strength for the one who was always ours.I don’t know what everyone else is praying for, but I know what I’m praying for. But in the meantime, whatever the plan may be, we’re here. We’ll keep loving you, fight for you, hold your hand, and walk this journey with the same dignity and grace we’ve learned from you.Peace, Love, and Hugs!
This past weekend, I attended my 40th high school reunion, and I must admit, I had to do the math in my head. How could it possibly be forty years since we walked across the stage?
At this age, we’ve all been through a lot, some more than others. We’ve raised families, built careers, lost loved ones, and learned what really matters. Some are retired, some of us are grandparents, and some of us are still finding new adventures. But what we all share now is something our younger selves couldn’t yet understand: Wisdom. The kind that only comes from living, loving, and learning through the years.
As I made my way around the room, catching up with old classmates, I couldn’t help but notice that while time has left its marks on us, wrinkles here, gray hairs there, there’s still that familiar spark in everyone’s eyes. Beneath the years, we’re still those same kids from the 80’s who once shared laughter, fun, trouble-making, and maybe even a few awkward moments in the hallways of our youth.
I wonder, do we ever outgrow who we were? Let’s be honest, you can take the kid out of the 80’s, but you’ll never take the 80’s out of us. We might have grown older, but we still love good music and good times.
And yet, as shocking as that “40 years” number sounds, I find myself celebrating the woman I’ve become. As I left that night, I felt grateful, not just for the memories of where I came from, but for the wisdom that has shaped me. The woman who still loves good music, the joy of simple living, and with the same spark that got me in trouble back then, is still alive and well….
But most of all, I am a woman who has weathered life’s storms, who still stands strong, and remembers exactly where she came from.
Peace, Love, And Hugs!
Lately, I’ve been struggling with thoughts swirling in my head. Feelings I couldn’t quite put into words. I think it started around the time we all got the news of Charlie Kirk’s death. It was everywhere, on the news, all over social media. You couldn’t escape it. The story of his sudden, tragic death stopped everyone for a moment. I remember thinking about writing something then. Something about his wife’s sudden loss of her husband, but for some reason, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t want it to seem like I was adding my voice just because it was the big news everyone was talking about. So I decided to stay quiet.
Then, just this past weekend, the headlines shifted to another loss, Diane Keaton’s passing. Another shock. No one could imagine that two high-profile people would take their last breaths. And once again, the world has reacted with sadness, disbelief, and endless news tributes.
But here’s the truth: every single day, someone takes their last breath. Someone’s family is left to grieve. Whether that person is a celebrity or someone like Shawn, a simple, hardworking man who wasn’t famous, the pain is just as real. And though the less famous may not make the news, every life still teaches us something, and every death is a reminder. Whether you’re rich or poor, known or unknown, death comes for us all. Death is the one guarantee we all share. When it’s our time-it’s our time.
Let’s get real, we don’t need to be remembered with loud tributes in stadiums or mentioned on the evening news. What truly matters is living in such a way that our simple words and quiet actions touch the people in our lives right now so that one day we’ll be remembered not from speeches, accomplishments, or fame, but how we made someone feel while we were here with them.
And if we also live the kind of life that honors the voices of those we have lost, the ones who made us pause, think, and feel, that, my friends, is loud enough.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Try to imagine the thrill a hiker must feel after years of training, the moment they finally reach the peak of a real mountain. After all that effort, all the struggle, all the preparation — they did it. They made it to the top. Do they look around in awe? Do they yell in victory? Do they look back and trace the path that brought them there, remembering every slippery step and every obstacle along the way?
Can they see the valley where their journey began, the place where the trees, the grass, and the flowers grow?
Here’s the thing: once a hiker reaches the top, they can’t stay there forever. Eventually, they have to come back down. Does it take as long to descend as it did to rise? When they finally reach the bottom and look back up, does the mountain that once looked impossible still seem as tall as it did when they were standing on top looking down?
Isn’t that what life is? Don’t we all go through mountaintops and valleys again and again?
Have you ever worked for something, prayed for it, trained for it, waited for it for a very, very long time, and finally accomplished it? It’s like reaching the top of a mountain. The feeling of pride, joy, and even disbelief as you stand there looking back at everything it took to get you there. Then, one day, you find yourself confused, maybe scared, because somehow you’re now heading in another direction. And as hard as we try to hold on to the feeling of being “on top,” God has more plans and leads us back into another valley.
As hard as it may seem, if we just slow down, we will see the valley He is leading us to isn’t a place of defeat. It’s the place of preparation. It’s where we grow, where we heal, where we train for the next climb. If you take the time to look around, you’ll see that the valley is full of life. Not emptiness. It’s where the trees, the grass, and the flowers grow. You don’t see that at the top. And those trees? They didn’t grow overnight. It took years for them to take root and bloom.
So if you have found yourself in another valley, just remember, when a hiker returns to the valley, they come back stronger, wiser, and forever changed by the climb.
And the same is true for us. The valley isn’t the end. It’s where God restores us, where He strengthens our roots, and prepares us for the next mountain waiting ahead.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
I’m one of those lucky people who gets to work from home. For the past three years, since I’ve moved into my little place, I’ve had the same view from my desk. It’s the first thing I see each morning when I open my blinds, before even turning on my computer: a tree right outside my window. It’s not some ancient grand oak that looks like it’s been around forever with stories carved into its history. No, my tree is smaller, a little on the scrappy side, but still beautiful in its own way. I didn’t realize it at first, but that tree has become kind of a teacher for me.
Every season it changes, and every season it has its own kind of beauty.
Here I am, rolling into my favorite time of year, autumn. The air is beginning to feel a little different, and before long, those leaves will start turning and falling. That tree reminds me every year that letting go doesn’t have to be scary. In fact, it can be beautiful. The leaves don’t fight it; they release and drift away. And maybe, just like the tree, I grow the most when I finally let go of what I don’t need or what isn’t right for me anymore.
Then winter shows up, and the tree stands bare and exposed. Honestly, that’s how my life has felt, at times – cold, harsh, and stripped down. But that tree doesn’t give up. It just stands steady, waiting it out.
Sure enough, spring always comes. The blooms pop out like little reminders that even the hardest endings can turn into tender new beginnings.
And then, just like that, summer arrives. These long, Louisiana hot months remind me to soak it in, to appreciate the longer days. But even that warmth eventually fades, making space for the next chapter to arrive because that’s the way life moves, one season into another.
Change isn’t the enemy. It’s a natural part of life. It’s the very thing pushing you toward who you’re meant to be. That tree outside my window keeps proving the same truth over and over: Nothing lasts forever, but with each new season comes an opportunity to begin a new chapter.
I’ve watched this little tree for the past three years, and it’s taught me something else. Even small, scrappy trees that continue to stand firm and stay steady will, in time, grow into something bigger and grander, carrying their own stories that shape them into exactly who they are meant to be.
And if a tree can pull that off without coffee, therapy, or WI-FI… well, what’s my excuse? Every season has its own kind of beauty. And if I forget that, well, the tree outside my window will be sure to roll its eyes and remind me again.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
So my married besties have been hounding me about dating. They say- “Put yourself out there!” Sure, let me just throw myself into the jungle where lions swipe left. It’s brutal out there, people! Straight-up National Geographic. They said to try the dating apps. And I’m like, “Hard pass.” Cute idea… easy for them to say that. They keep swearing there’s got to be at least one real man left out there who doesn’t care about looks and wants to know the core of me. (And honestly, I’m not sure if I should take that as hope or as a backhanded compliment) They even threaten to create a profile pretending to be me. So I told them, let’s test it, and took this selfie of me fresh out of bed… like, full crime scene energy. I told them this will be my profile pic, but I will need them to help me decide which one of the following I should use to describe myself and what I’m looking for:
“Looking for a man who wants my soul, not my Sephora cart.”
“If you can handle this at 7am, you’ve unlocked boyfriend privileges.”
“Dating apps said: be authentic. So here’s my final form.”
“Who wants the ‘real me’? Careful what you wish for.”
“Proof that I’m the before picture in every after picture.”
“Giving ‘swipe left’ energy since sunrise.”
“Men say they want natural, so here I am…”
“Warning: This is the face you might actually wake up to. Proceed at your own risk.”
“Makeup washes off. This doesn’t.”
“Side effects of dating me may include second thoughts.”
“I ain’t scared to eat in front of men. I don’t do side salads. Bring your credit card.”
“I’m the reason Beauty and the Beast was a fairy tale.”
“The look that makes DoorDash drivers question their career choices.”
“The face that screams, you’ll never complain about your ex ever again.”
So okay, besties… Challenge accepted, game on! Let’s see who is brave enough to sign up for THIS hottness. Until then, my profile pic will basically be a public service announcement: Swipe accordingly.
Disclaimer: Let’s be clear, no dating apps were downloaded in the making of this blog. This was just me having fun and proving I can dish it right back at my besties.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Just the word drama sounds… well, dramatic.
When I hear it, my mind instantly flashes back to high school, where everything felt like a crisis, every hallway whisper felt like a scandal, and emotions were running at full volume. I guess that’s what happens when your brain is 16,17, or 18 years old and running on fumes, hormones, and cafeteria pizza. When our young brains haven’t lived through the bigger picture that a 50+ year old brain has.
Looking back now, all that drama seems both exhausting and oddly necessary. It taught me something valuable: the importance of surrounding myself with honest people who also value a no-drama kind of life, and steering clear of those who somehow never managed to outgrow it. You know the type. The ones who avoid taking accountability for their ways because they seek people who are willing to let them.
But here’s the twist- something I had to learn the hard way. When someone comes into my life and starts by saying, “I can’t stand drama. I don’t do drama,” my guard goes up now. Yeah, you read that correctly. At first, it sounds promising, right? Honestly, who actually enjoys drama? But I’ve discovered that when someone leads with that line, what they’re often really saying is:
” Don’t question anything. Don’t call me out. Don’t challenge me. Don’t make me look in the mirror. Don’t mention anything about me that makes you uncomfortable. Just let me keep being fabulous without any consequences, and if you play along with that, we’ll get along just fine.”
And that, my friends, is its own kind of drama. After 58 years on this planet, I’ve fallen for that line once or twice… okay fine, more than a few times. But now? Nope. Big RED flag.
I’ve realized this: the real key is keeping my circle small, filled with people I trust to love me enough to be honest, even when it stings. The kind of people who will hold up a mirror when I need to see myself more clearly. And instead of flipping tables, I try (keyword: try) to hear them, because that mirror is what will make me a better person. I don’t want to live a life with people where “no drama” really means “don’t rock my boat.” I want a life with someone who chooses growth over ego, and who will help me grow by calling me out on my own bullshit nonsense, too.
My philosophy of a drama-free life is simple: “Please don’t make me deal with someone who thrives on chaos, and somehow skipped the class on emotional maturity.”
That, to me, is the real NO DRAMA LIFE.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
That’s the thing about grief… it never really leaves.
No matter how many years go by, it’s always with you. The good news is that although grief is always a part of you, it doesn’t stay as sharp or as brutal as it is in the beginning. It softens. It shifts.
For everyone, the timeline looks different, but eventually, life does find its way back in. Happiness sneaks in again, and joy returns. New chapters unfold, and you experience new beginnings.
Still, even after years and years, grief has a way of revisiting. It shows up quietly, sometimes unexpectedly, but it doesn’t knock you to your knees the way it once did.
They say the “firsts” are the hardest after a loss. And some might believe that once you’ve faced them, the grief is over. But I’m here to say, twelve years later, almost thirteen, I am still experiencing new firsts.
Yesterday was one of them.
I attended my very first Grandparents’ Day at my grandson’s preschool. I can’t even explain how excited I was. I was practically geeking out. There’s just nothing quite like being a grandparent. But as I pulled into the parking lot, a little early, I sat in my car and noticed the steady stream of grandparents arriving. Grandmas and grandpas, hand in hand, walking into the school together.
That’s when it hit me. Shawn should have been there, too.
I won’t sugarcoat it. It made me sad. I even teared up sitting there in my car. That’s how grief works. It slips in, reminding you of what’s missing. But the difference now is that those moments of sadness don’t last as long as they once did. They come, they sting, and then they pass, leaving room again for the joy of the moment, like holding my grandson’s hand inside his preschool.
And then, again today, grief tapped me on the shoulder in a different way. After yoga, my friend and I went out for breakfast together. As I spread butter and jelly on my biscuit, because life is all about balance. Right?? Exercise and then carbs…. I looked around me and saw husbands and wives sitting across from one another, eating their Saturday breakfast like it was just another day.
For them, it was just ordinary. For me, it was a reminder. A reminder that it should have been Shawn. But it was also a reminder, too, that I am so grateful I get to sit across from my carb-eating BFF.
That’s the thing about grief. It will always be here, but it no longer steals the whole day. Grief can be messy, but it can also show you things, like how deeply you loved, how much you endured, and what the true meaning of resilience is.
It reminds me to be thankful for the moments I do have. For my grandson’s smile that reminds me so much of Shawn’s unforgettable smile. For his tiny handprint picture, which I will cherish for the rest of my life. For my best friend who shares yoga and biscuits with me. And for the ability to feel again after loss.
Grief doesn’t go away, but it changes. It softens into something I carry with me, something that shapes me, but doesn’t define me. And with each new first, I continue to learn and grow.
I’m not just surviving. I’m truly living, carrying the lessons from all of my firsts, and the gifts grief continues to teach me into each new beginning.
Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
We say it all the time, “I don’t have enough time. Time is flying. Where did the time go?” Why do we measure our lives in hours, days, and years? We are always chasing for more time. But if you really think about it, it’s not the stretch of time we remember most. It’s the moments.
Moments are what give time meaning.
Think about a mother in the hospital, praying she can hold her baby inside her just one moment longer so it isn’t born too soon. To her, a single moment can mean life-changing strength. But let’s think even deeper. Imagine the moment the baby is finally born. There’s that terrifying pause, the silence of time that feels like it stretches on forever. For the parents, every second feels like too much time. And then it happens, the first sound, the cry of their baby fills the room. It’s the moment they know their baby is here, breathing, alive.
Or think about the first kiss with someone you love. You don’t remember how long the kiss lasted. You remember the moment you realized you were in love. It’s the moment, frozen in your memory, that makes it unforgettable. It’s the moment everything shifts, the moment you know you don’t want to live another day, another hour, without that person in your life.
Think about the last meaningful conversation you had with someone you love, not realizing it would be the last. You don’t remember how long you spoke. You remember the sound of their laugh, the look in their eyes, the feeling it left with you in the moment.
What about the unforgettable vacation? The one that wasn’t carefully mapped out or planned for months. Maybe it was a simple, spur-of-the-moment trip you decided to take. What you remember are the moments. The sunsets, the taste of something new, the way you felt completely alive in a place outside your everyday routine.
Or what about the pivotal moment when you finally realized you had had enough? When something inside you screamed, “I am worth more than this.” The moment you decided, this is not how my story will end. The single moment that changed everything, freeing you from what could have been a lifetime of regret.
Time will always move, whether we’re ready or not. But moments, that’s where the heart of our lives truly lives. They’re the snapshots we carry with us. They are the moments that stay long after the hours and days have faded.
I’ve learned to stop chasing more time. Instead, I’ve chosen to spend my time chasing a life with more moments that are worth remembering.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
This one is for…. YOU.
Yes, you. The one who’s always smiling, always joking, always ready to lend a hand. The one who shows up for everyone else, who somehow always has something positive to say, even when life is heavy.
Something tells me today… You’re tired.
Tired of fighting the battle in silence.
Tired of being the strong one.
Tired of carrying the weight that no one sees and pretending it doesn’t hurt.
You’re worried, but you’re quiet. You’re hurting, but you don’t want to burden anyone. Here’s the truth…. the people who love you the most can hear your silence louder than your words.
Maybe today is the day you let yourself lean. Lean on the same people you’ve held up. The ones you put your own life on hold for when they needed you most.
It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to scream. It’s okay to admit you’re not okay. Don’t feel guilty for being human, for needing a day, or even more than a day.
Take the time. Feel the feelings. And when you’re ready to stand back up again, know this:
The world still needs your laugh, your kindness, your strength, your fire. You’ve poured so much into others, but now it’s your time. Rest if you must. Because you’re not finished. Your story is still being written.
We’re here. We’ve got you. We love you!
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Yesterday, I woke up and thought, “You know what? I’m done with the rules.” Not society’s rules. Not traffic laws. (Relax, I didn’t start driving on the wrong side of the road.) I’m talking about those invisible, ridiculous little rules we invent for ourselves.
– Eat the kale, not the candy.
– Don’t waste money on dumb stuff.
-Be productive. Be responsible. Be an “adult.”
-Blah, Blah, BLAH.
Yeah…. no thanks. And oh, did I commit!
I decided I was going to live exactly the way my grandchildren do. Loud, messy, sticky-fingered, and completely oblivious to the idea that “adult rules” even exist. I don’t post about them much (privacy and all that), but those four little bundles of joy are my personal life coaches. Nothing, I mean, nothing teaches me how to live more fully than watching how they see the world. They don’t care about balance or moderation. They are all about fun, snacks, and convincing me to buy them toys shaped like poop emojis.
Honestly? They’re onto something.
Fueled by an irresponsible amount of Starbucks (pretty sure my bloodstream was 73% espresso at that point), I launched my rebellion with my holy grail of guilty pleasures… Uncrustables. Yes, those tiny, overpriced, frozen, pre-sealed PB&Js that scream, “You could have made this for ten cents, you Lazy Heathen.” Guess what? I don’t care. I could have bought a whole loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and jelly for the same price. But dammit, I didn’t want a whole loaf. I wanted an Uncrustable. And not just one. They’re soft, they’re squishy, they’re chemical-laden magic, and they make me feel like a carefree five-year-old who just traded a Capri Sun for two Oreos at lunch.
And because I was already deep into the rule-breaking zone, I didn’t stop there. Nope. I followed it up with an entire box of Milk Duds. Not a handful. Not a polite serving. A Whole-FREAKING-Box. By the end, I was basically chewing caramel-flavored cement.
And I regret nothing.
Here’s the thing: I guess what I’m trying to say is adult rules are dumb. Most of the time, they don’t even make us better; they just make us boring and stress us out. And yesterday reminded me that joy doesn’t come from “sticking to the plan.” It comes from little rebellions. From saying, “Screw it, I’m eating candy for lunch.” From laughing at yourself when your teeth get glued shut with Milk Duds. From choosing happiness over kale, at least for one glorious day.
And honestly? I’d do it again tomorrow. In fact, consider this your official invitation. I’ll be at recess if you wanna play. I’ll save you a spot on the swings. Bring snacks. Not the healthy kind. I’m talking Twinkies, Fritos Corn Chips, and maybe a Lunchable with the pizza nobody actually cooks. Together, we’ll overthrow the adult rulebook, high on caffeine like some kind of feral playground raccoons.
So yeah, yesterday I fired my adult rulebook and wrote a new one with a crayon. First page?
1.) Zero guilt. 2.) Maximum snacks. 3.) Repeat until satisfied.
For me, it’s the simple stuff. Judge me if you must. I don’t lose sleep over opinions that don’t come with snacks. Playground rules. Unless you’re showing up with Uncrustables in one hand and Milk Duds in the other, your judgment is invalid. My rulebook is short, sweet, and sticky with peanut butter. Take it or leave it.
I gotta say… freedom tastes a lot like frozen PB&J.
Viva la rebellion!!
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Moving on versus moving forward.
I’ve written about this before. It’s something I’ve returned to again and again, trying to find the words that really land. Maybe it’s because it’s something I still wrestle with myself, I guess. After all, sometimes, our hearts hear things differently depending on where we are in our journey.
So, what is the difference between moving on and moving forward?
To me, moving on means closing a door on something that no longer serves you, maybe something that once hurt you. It’s distance, detachment, and it is final. Sometimes, it’s very necessary to do so.
Moving forward, though, is something entirely different.
Moving forward means you take the memories, the lessons you have learned, the heartbreak, into whatever may come next by carrying your past into a wiser future, almost like packing all of it in your bag for the journey ahead.
And maybe that’s what I’ve been saying all along. But today, I’m offering a new spin.
Move with.
To move with is to honor your past – the fear, doubt, loss, and the beauty of what once was, while staying open to what could still be. It means not forgetting or disconnecting, but moving with the experiences that shaped who you have become. It’s not something you carry. It moves with you on the road alongside you.
So today, if you’re in the middle of a moment—if you’re healing, grieving, changing, or simply trying to find your next step, be sure to….. MOVE without staying stuck.
Every step, no matter how small, is still movement.
Your next chapter is waiting for you.
Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
So, you think you’re in a bad mood or maybe just feeling off, and you can’t quite put your finger on why. And the more you try to shake it off or make sense of it, the worse it feels.
Have you ever considered that maybe you’re spending too much time trying to figure out what’s going on in your head and not enough time listening to what’s going on in your heart? Because sometimes, our hearts feel what our brains haven’t caught up to yet.
Today is one of those days for me. I woke up feeling heavy. A little sad. And I can’t explain why. I’ve tried reminding myself of all the things I’m grateful for. I’ve run through the checklist —health, family, friends, purpose, progress — but none of it seems to lift the weight in my chest.
My body has carried babies. It has carried hopes and dreams. It’s carried broken hearts and more “WTF” moments than I can count. It’s carried joy, too, more than I sometimes give credit for. And through all of that, my body, my brain, and my heart have served me well.
So why the sadness?
Maybe the answer isn’t something I need to figure out. Maybe it’s just my heart asking for a moment to breathe, to feel, to stop pretending it has to be okay all the time.
I feel sometimes we’re so focused on staying positive that we forget it’s okay to feel the weight of it all. It’s okay to let your heart speak without needing to justify it.
So if today feels heavy for you, too, and you’re not sure why, don’t fight it. Celebrate it. Because it means our heart is telling us something. It’s feeling. It’s processing. It’s alive.
Eventually, our brain will catch up. But for now, give your heart the space to feel what it needs to feel.
PEACE, LOVE, and HUGS!
When I look at these photos, I see a fifteen-year-old girl beginning her sophomore year and a seventeen-year-old boy, newly into his senior year in high school.
I see a girl and a boy who met in the early months of the 1982-1983 school year. They didn’t know each other yet, but life was already quietly working its magic.
I see a girl who didn’t know at the time that this boy would soon be asking her out one ordinary day after dance team practice. Little did she know this boy would one day be her husband.
I see a boy who saw something in the girl that she didn’t quite see in herself. Little did he know this girl would one day become the mother to their three children.
At the time, they didn’t know they’d not only build a life together, but that the life they built would come to an end exactly 30 years later.
When I look at this photo of that girl now, I wish I could go back and whisper to her: Life is going to twist and turn in ways you never imagined. There will be beautiful moments that will take your breath away, and there will be heartbreaking ones that bring you to your knees. But then there will be more beautiful moments again. You’ll stumble. You’ll lose. You’ll grow. But through it all, you’ll be okay. Life will keep throwing things at you, and on the days that knock the wind out of you, you will know to stand up because that boy, the one who saw something in you long before you saw it in yourself, helped you learn what it means to love, to believe, and never give up… even when your life doesn’t unfold the way you thought it would.
But most importantly, please know that one day, you will know a broken heart can mend. And when it does, you’ll make space for even more beautiful moments because you chose to stand back up, even when it would’ve been easier for you to stay down.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
.
Yeah… This is another one of those blog posts where I try to wrangle a word that’s been blaring in my head—today’s word? Patterns. So, let me unpack this one.
They say to break a pattern, you must first understand and recognize it. Sounds simple enough, right? But how often do we take the time to look at the patterns in our lives? Like, really look at them?
Have you ever caught yourself in the aftermath of a situation, a business endeavor, or maybe a relationship, and thought, What the hell was that all about? No? Just me? Well, if you’ve never found yourself in that loop, consider yourself lucky. Now hear me out, I can’t speak for anyone who’s found themselves in one, or… gasps…. more than one of those situations, but here’s what I’ve learned: People become their patterns. We repeat what’s familiar even if it’s not what’s good for us. And more often than not, we can predict someone’s next move if we just take the time to pay attention to how they’ve moved in the past. You can see who they are by looking at their relationships, their work ethic, how they respond to conflict, how they show up, or… don’t. Why? Because patterns don’t lie.
But this post isn’t about them. I believe the real work starts when we turn the lens on ourselves and ask: What patterns am I repeating that keep landing me in the same place? What is it in me that keeps attracting or accepting these situations?
For me? I’ve realized I move too quickly. I jump in with both feet because I want to believe the best in people. I lead with trust. I lead with hope. And while that can be beautiful, it can also make me blind to the warning signs that are right in front of me. It’s a double-edged sword. Seeing the good is a gift, but ignoring the patterns? That’s a lesson I have learned the hard way through situations no one else put me in but… me. I walked into them and stayed longer than I should have. It would be so easy for me to shift the blame, point fingers, deflect, and say it was the situation, the timing, or them. But that would be an old, familiar pattern I once followed. The truth is, it wasn’t the situation. It was me. It’s a hard truth to sit with. It’s not easy to face. It’s the kind of self-accountability that feels uncomfortable. But taking responsibility for that isn’t about beating myself up. It’s about finally being honest enough to grow and refusing to fall into another old pattern I used to follow. The one where I would endlessly criticize every decision I made and stay stuck in shame. That, too, was a pattern. One I no longer choose.
So today, if you’re willing to go there, if you’re brave enough to pause and look within, I invite you to sit with your patterns and own them. Not with shame or judgment, but with curiosity because once you name it, you can change it. Celebrate the fact that you were brave enough to recognize them in the first place. When you finally admit that no one else is to blame, that you have been the one repeatedly putting yourself in those situations, that’s not defeat.
That’s growth.
And that, my friends, is the beginning of a powerful new pattern worth following.
Peace, Love & Hugs!
I’ve always promised to be real with you, and if you’ve followed my writings, you know I don’t sugarcoat. It’s raw, honest, straight from my heart, and from the squirrels that take up space in my head.
So let me be clear: This isn’t a made-up story. This actually happened to me. And honestly…it doesn’t get any more real than this.
Here goes… Welcome to my world. Read on….
Y’ALL!!!! I just had one of those moments.. One of those “wait… am I turning into my mother?” moments. One of those scary, identity-shaking moments.
I walked into my kitchen and looked at my counter, and THIS is what I saw. Like, FULL STOP in my tracks!!
– A two-week pill organizer for my vitamins (because one week clearly wasn’t enough)
– Eyeglasses (just casually sitting there like they pay rent)
– and….Prunes (because apparently, digestion is now a full-time job)
Ummmm…only OLD people have these things sitting out like they are part of their home’s decor. Right?? And what’s even more disturbing? My pill organizer, my eyeglasses, and the package of Great Value prunes are all perfectly color-coordinated. Apparently, my countertop has entered its “early geriatric chic” era.
I had no warning. No transition period. Just BAM! Welcome to middle age; here’s your fiber!
Amazing. Just Amazing!
So now I need answers: Who am I? When did I cross over? How did this happen? Do I start collecting Tupperware lids with no bottoms now? Do I start saving leftovers in Cool Whip containers? What’s next? Tissues tucked under my bra straps? Time to adopt stray cats so they can judge me? Complain about the price of cereal? Watch the Wheel of Fortune while eating my dinner in front of the television?
I REFUSE to accept this. I will fight this to the bitter end. I will not go quietly into the orthopedic night. I refuse to age this way. NO! NO!! NO!!! If aging wants me, it’s gonna have to chase me. I have NOT officially entered my “sensible-snacks and early bedtime era yet!”
I am not aging! I’m leveling up! Now, excuse me while I make a Botox appointment. This girl doesn’t wrinkle! I recalibrate!
I’m just out here living the dream, one prune at a time….
PRUNES, Love, and Hugs!
TWO YEARS!! Thank you!!
It’s hard to believe that today marks two years since I started writing again. If you’ve been following along, you know that I recently launched my new website, which includes three special pages that hold a great deal of meaning for me.
The first page is called “God, a Blonde, and a Bottle of Wine”, a space for my thoughts, stories, and some of those lighter moments that help carry us through. The second page features pieces I wrote during one of the hardest seasons of my life, “The Journey of a Widowed Diva.” The third is deeply personal, “Dear Shawn”, a collection of letters I’ve written to Shawn.
Recently, I added a few more writings to the “Journey of a Widowed Diva” page. Truthfully, it’s the hardest one for me to update. That part of the site pulls me back into the space of a dark time that still aches. But I’ve come to realize that sometimes, looking back is necessary. Sometimes, the past doesn’t let you go until you sit with it, reflect on it, and honor the version of who lived through it.
When I was writing those early Widowed Diva entries, I remember trying to put into words how I was no longer the woman I used to be before losing Shawn. And now, reading them again, I barely recognize that woman either. Back then, I was a teacher and ran my trade school. I never imagined I’d walk away from that world entirely. But life has a way of surprising you. It twists. It turns. It transforms. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being the teacher and became the student, no longer teaching lessons, but learning them through the lessons life placed in front of me.
Looking back isn’t always about longing or regret; it can also be about reflection and growth. Sometimes, it’s about perspective. It’s about seeing how far you’ve come and understanding what shaped you along the way. That’s the beauty of the journey, it’s never straightforward, and it’s rarely easy, but it’s yours. Sometimes the only way to truly move forward is to take a moment to look back. And if these writings can touch someone else walking through their own journey, if they offer even a moment of understanding, then maybe my past still has a purpose.
Thanks for sticking with me on this rollercoaster of a journey. You’re officially part of it, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Stay tuned… the best (and possibly the weirdest) is yet to come!
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
Are signs real?
Feathers. butterflies. red cardinals, pennies, or dimes. A song you have heard countless times suddenly plays at the exact moment you need it most, and somehow, for the first time, you truly hear the lyrics. Are these things truly messages from our loved ones who we have lost, or are they simply coincidences that our hearts are searching for something to hold on to?
Do our loved ones really send us signs, or is it just our imagination hoping or aching for proof that they’re still with us?
Honestly, I don’t have the answer. I wish I did. But what I do know is there are moments, undeniable moments, when something happens that stops me in my tracks.
A feather floats down out of nowhere, slowly, right as I’m thinking of him. A red cardinal flies by, lands near me, and stays there longer than any bird usually would, like it’s there for a reason. A butterfly flies through the air, appearing right after a memory of him crosses my mind.
And why was it that I saw more of the signs shortly after losing Shawn, especially in my moments of deep distress? Was he still close, not wanting to leave yet, trying to show me he was still there? Or… was it my own desperate longing, not ready to let him go, clinging to every possible sign I could find, hoping each one meant he was still with me? In those days, the signs came often and consistently. But over time, they became less frequent. They didn’t disappear completely; they came in the exact moments I truly needed them. Perhaps it was his way of slowly letting me know that he would always be with me, while also gently pushing me to continue to move forward with the new life I was handed without him.
Are these all signs? I want to believe they are.
Maybe they’re not.
But even if they’re just beautiful coincidences that show up exactly when we need them most, if they bring comfort and the feeling that we’re not alone, then maybe that’s what makes them real.
Whether it’s a message or a moment, maybe, just maybe, that’s the only answer we need.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
I did something today.
Something I’ve told others to do.
Something I’ve done myself, many times before.
But today, it felt different.
This morning, I forced myself to be still.
It’s a Sunday morning. By all accounts, I should be doing something, getting dressed for church, heading to the grocery store, going to yoga, finally tackling that closet under the stairs I haven’t been able to step into for months. I even told myself this would be the perfect day to sort through my clothes and make a donation pile.
But not today. This morning, I sat on my sofa and made the conscious choice to be still. To breathe. To notice.
I looked around at my little 900-square-foot space, a place that was supposed to be temporary. Just a stopover until I found the house, the one I’d plant roots in. And yet, here I am, three years later. Still here. It’s the smallest place I’ve ever lived in. It’s not grand, it’s not flashy.
My food is in the refrigerator.
My books are stacked just the way I like them.
My pictures hang exactly where I chose to hang them.
And my white sofa? It’s white because it can be. The kids are grown and have their own homes. For now, I’ve chosen not to have pets. And my place stays clean.
As I sat in that stillness this morning, I found myself asking: How did I end up here?
If you’ve followed my journey without Shawn, you know some of it. You know this place, this season of life, wasn’t part of my original plan. Once upon a time, I thought I needed the big house. The full life. All the things. I thought those were the markers of “making it.” Today, I realized something entirely different. It wasn’t just that I thought I needed all those things, the house, the plans, the “more.” Today, sitting here in my space, I finally allowed myself to be still, and I realized sometimes, being still is the hardest thing to do. It feels unnatural. Unproductive. Like I’m missing something, or falling behind. But in that stillness, something beautiful happens. You start to see clearly. You start to feel honestly. You begin to understand that all the noise and all the chasing were never the point. And that’s when it hit me: I don’t need much. Not really. I am healthy. I have been blessed with a job that provides everything I need to support myself. My children and grandchildren are happy and thriving. I have family and friends who are more loyal than words could ever express. What more could I possibly need? That’s enough. More than enough.
I don’t know…perhaps God has something more in store for me in the future. Maybe there’s a home waiting, and someone to share it with. Someone to hang pictures with, to dream with, to build a life with. Someone who now understands the value of peace and presence over material things. Perhaps God is still fitting the final piece into place for me.
But until then, I’ll stay still in my quiet, sacred space.
Still.
Peaceful.
Grateful.
My place may be small, but today, it feels like Heaven.
PEACE, Love, and Hugs!
Somewhere, at this exact moment, a doorbell is ringing.
Someone is delivering flowers.
Someone is organizing meals.
Someone is standing in the card aisle, looking for the right words on a sympathy card.
Someone is driving past a grieving family’s home, too heartbroken to stop, but somehow feeling that just passing by is a small act of support.
Someone is sitting in silence, trying to find the right words to say, wishing words could be enough.
Somewhere, at this exact moment, someone is on their knees, praying for comfort, for peace that feels impossible. Some moments are horrific. Incomprehensible. So many questions hang in the air. How? Why? Questions that will never have full answers.
But here is what we do know:
Somewhere at this exact moment, someone is experiencing the unimaginable.
A mother.
A father.
A wife.
A husband.
A grandparent.
An aunt.
An uncle.
A cousin.
A friend.
A teacher.
Their lives were shattered and changed in a way that can never be undone. Their doorbell is ringing because people want to help. And while that kindness matters, it’s important to remember that no one can take their pain away.
What we can do is pray for them.
Give them grace.
Give them space.
Give them time.
Right now, we can’t even begin to imagine their heartache. But soon, time will begin to move again. The funerals will be over. The flowers will wilt. The casseroles will be tucked away into freezers or forgotten and thrown out. The social media “praying for you” posts will become fewer. The news cycle will shift.
And that…that is when grief will truly set in.
It’s not just in the chaos of tragedy that support is needed. It’s the quiet after. When the silence becomes deafening. It’s when the world moves on, but they can’t.
There will be a morning when the school bus drives past their home for the first day of school, and a parent realizes their child is missing and who should be on it. There will be birthdays with an empty chair. Holidays that don’t feel like holidays. There will be a parent raising children alone. There will be grandparents becoming parents again because someone didn’t come home. There will be a wife who becomes a widow. A husband who is now a widower.
So if you’re wondering what you can do, do this:
Be there then. Weeks, months,…. years later.
Be the one who remembers.
Who checks in.
Who doesn’t forget when the casseroles are gone and the headlines fade.
Somewhere, right now, someone is in the deepest pain of their life. Let’s not forget them while our world continues to turn.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
Dear God,
I come to You today not with perfect words, but with a tired heart. A heart that has held strong for so long, maybe too long. My soul is weary, not from lack of faith, but from carrying the weight of always being the strong one.
You know me. You know the silent moments, the late nights, the tears that never fall in front of others. You’ve been with me in the quiet spaces where no one else could reach. We’ve had intimate conversations that no one else would understand. You’ve heard every word, every plea, every whisper.
I’ve prayed and prayed again. And You, in Your wisdom, have answered me with lessons. And I thank you for that. Truly, I do. I know those lessons have shaped me. They’ve deepened my faith and grown my resilience. But Lord… this time, I’m not asking for another lesson because I know my heart is ready.
I’m asking for clarity. For peace. For a breakthrough. Please, God, just this once, let the answer not be another mountain to climb, not another test of patience or strength. Let it be the fulfillment of what You’ve prepared for me.
I’m tired, Lord. Not lost, not broken, but tired. Haven’t I done the work? If I’ve learned what You wanted me to learn, if I’ve grown the way You’ve intended, then I ask You, with all the humility in my heart…
Let this next chapter be my miracle. Let it be clear, undeniable, and full of Your grace. Let it be real.
No more wondering, no more questioning whether this is another detour for growth. I’ve walked those roads. I’ve honored them. But now, I ask You to please walk me into the promise.
With all my love, faith, and surrender,
Amen.
This might be a tough one to read, especially if you’re someone currently stuck in your emotions. It might even sound like I’m judging, or like I’m telling you how you should feel or act. But trust me when I say this comes from a deeply personal place, years of self-reflection, therapy, and painful growth.
Let’s talk about triggers and what they are, and more importantly, what they aren’t.
Triggers, sometimes referred to as “stressors,” are emotional reactions triggered by a specific event, words, or environments.
I like to explain that triggers are like hidden landmines buried deep in your mind, planted by past trauma. You don’t always see them coming. But when you step on one, it explodes. One second you’re fine, the next you’re overwhelmed, panicked, angry, or shut down. It’s real. It’s valid. And for many of us, it’s something we will carry for life.
But here’s the hard truth. Your triggers are your responsibility. It is not the world’s job to tiptoe around you. Yes, you read that correctly…. It is not your partner’s job, your friend’s job, or society’s job to avoid saying or doing something that might “set you off.”
At some point, healing stops being about who or what hurt you and becomes about what you’re doing about it now. You’re a grown ass adult. You are responsible for your emotional regulation, your awareness, and your healing.
Yes, what happened to you may not have been your fault. How do you choose to carry it? That part is on you.
Blaming your past becomes a distraction from your future. You either own your life, or you become a prisoner to your excuses. And let’s be real, no one wants to be around someone who constantly leads with anger, bitterness, blame, or self-pity. That kind of energy pushes people away, and eventually, it will leave you isolated.
At a certain age, you are no longer just a product of your environment. You are the result of the choices you continue to make. Healing is a decision, a brutal, often thankless one, but it’s yours to make. No one else can do it for you.
And if you’ve chosen to stay stuck in your self-pity, surrounded by people who continue to accept your excuse-making, they’re not helping. They’re enabling. And they’re just as responsible for your lack of growth as you are.
The truth?
What happened to you was real. It hurt. You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t deserve it. But it happened. And now? It’s done. No one is coming to rescue you. No one is going to carry your healing for you. That path belongs to you alone. This is your fight. Your responsibility. That journey is yours. And only yours.
There comes a time when you must decide to heal or stay broken as a prisoner, locked inside a cage built from your excuses while refusing to face yourself.
Was this brutal? Maybe. But freedom doesn’t come without accountability. Fix yourself.
PEACE, Love, and Hugs!
Sometimes my brain throws thoughts at me so randomly, I wonder if there’s a rave going on in my head and the squirrels forgot to send the memo. I mean, half the time I don’t even share them because… well, how do you explain squirrel?
But this one I had to write down. So hang with me here, because even I’m trying to follow the trail of breadcrumbs my brain left behind.
Do you remember being a kid, whether on the playground, at a roller rink, or someone’s birthday party, and the song “The Hokey Pokey” came on?
You know the one:
“You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in and you shake it all about… ” (Admit it… you just sang that as you read it.)
Well, who knew that little toe-tapper from childhood was actually trying to teach us something deep about life?
Stay with me.
Life, it turns out, is basically one big Hokey Pokey.
Think about it. Every time we start something new, a job, a relationship, a “let’s try this again for the seventh time” gym membership, we put one foot in. We test the waters. Sometimes we panic and yank that foot back out. And then? We shake it all about, regroup, turn ourselves around, and keep it moving.
That’s what it’s all about. No, really, it is.
Life isn’t about having it all figured out the first time you put your foot in the circle. It’s about the back and forth, the in and out, the full-on shake-it-all-about chaos of trying.
It’s about showing up, spinning in awkward circles, and hoping no one notices you’re just winging it with jazz hands.
Whether it’s love, career goals, projects, or healing old emotional junk, we’re all just doing the Hokey Pokey and trying to remember the steps as we go.
So the next time you feel like you’re stumbling, or spinning around in the very public dance floor of life… just smile, shake it off, and remember: “That’s what it’s all about.”
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
This might sound simple, perhaps even something you’ve heard before, but my heart keeps urging me to share it because if even one person feels seen, comforted, or reminded by these words, then it’s worth putting them out there.
I may have 12 years of experience behind me, but the core of my message hasn’t changed. Life has shown me sometimes gently, sometimes brutally, just how fast everything can shift. What you think is certain can disappear in an instant.
You never truly know what someone is carrying behind their smile. Be kind. Hug your people. Say “I love you” every chance you get. The last thing I ever said to Shawn and the last thing he heard from me was “I love you” in his final moments. That’s a gift I will always hold onto. I am forever grateful it was those words that closed our chapter.
Please don’t judge. You don’t need to fully understand someone’s struggle to show them compassion and grace. Just be there. Show up. Love out loud.
Make memories, so many memories. Take the photos, laugh at the silly things. Recognize and hold onto every little moment you experience with your person, and then cherish them, as insignificant as they may appear at that moment in time. Why? Because one day, you WILL find yourself aching for just one more moment with your person, and those memories will be the soft place your heart lands when it hurts the most.
Don’t take the people in your life for granted. Not for a second. They are in your life for a season and a reason. If you’re lucky enough to understand the reason before your season with them is over, that’s a rare and beautiful blessing.
As for me, I do NOT care if someone judges me and feels I’m redundant. I’ll never stop saying Shawn’s name because he left behind a legacy of love. His gift to me, and one I now carry forward to share. And at the end of the day, isn’t that what we’re all here to do?
Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
Dear You,
Yeah, you.
You’re slipping and shrinking.
You’re doubting yourself again.
Nah… we’re not doing that anymore.
Let me tell you something, you’re not lost. You’re not failing. You’re just in what I call “The In-Between Space.”
It’s that weird, wobbly place between who you were and who you’re becoming. You’ve moved forward, but haven’t quite arrived. You’ve let go of things, people, and identities that no longer serve you, but the new pieces haven’t fully landed yet. You’re in the messy, uncertain, frustratingly slow part of the journey. And I know… you’re tempted to rush. You’re wondering if you’ll get “there” wherever there even is.
But hear me out. This space? This is the work.
This is where old doors close and new ones creak open. This is where everything feels like it’s coming undone, so it can be rebuilt. This is where you learn to sit with yourself.
To breathe.
To trust.
To pray.
This is the sacred space where you stop needing to be liked by people who don’t even like themselves. Where the pressure to prove yourself to anyone else finally breaks and falls away. To remember, people love to judge what they don’t understand.
Sometimes, the breakthrough comes after the breakdown. Sometimes, you’ve got to let it all go. Purge the noise, the fear, the expectations, so you can finally hear your own voice again. Because in this “In-Between Space”, you don’t find the answers by forcing anything. You find them by being still. By being real. By being the you who has already clothed yourself with healing.
Remember who you are.
Stay with it.
You’re not lost.
You are becoming.
Love yourself. Right here. Right now. You’re exactly where you need to be. You’ve stood in this “In-Between Space” before. Remember? That’s how you reached the life you’re living today. You are just retreating for a moment. Because sometimes, all it takes is a real, honest conversation with yourself in the mirror to look into your own eyes and remember who you really are… again. You got this!
Love,
Me
Peace, LOVE, and HUGS!!
I have a confession. I didn’t realize Memorial Day was this coming Monday. The only reason it even crossed my radar was thanks to a bombardment of ads for sales for mattresses, barbecue pits, and just about everything in between. And just like that, my brain started spiraling.
“What is Memorial Day really about again?”
I noticed some posts and ads casually referencing “Honoring All Who Served,” which made me pause. Isn’t that Veterans Day? That’s in the fall, right??? So I did what any slightly embarrassed but curious person does… I Googled it. And let me tell you, Google gave me a gentle (Okay, not-so-gentle) reality check.
So now I’m here, not just to redeem myself, but to share what I relearned, just in case someone else out there is as fuzzy on the details as I was. So let’s clear this up…
Memorial Day is not just the “unofficial start of summer.” It’s not about weekend getaways, cookouts, or scoring a great deal on a new sofa. It’s not a day to honor all who served. That’s what Veterans Day in November is for.
Memorial Day is a day of remembrance. It’s specifically set aside to honor and mourn the men and women of the U.S. Military who died while serving their country.
And let’s go even deeper.
Memorial Day is also a time to acknowledge those who lost their battles after the war. Those who made it home, only to face the long, invisible struggles of PTSD, trauma, and other wounds that claimed their lives later. Their sacrifices are no less real.
Yes, many people will be off work on Monday, but let’s pause between the burgers and the beaches. We’ll get to enjoy time with our families and maybe even squeeze in a little sunshine and rest. But let’s not forget who gave up the chance to do those same things. Let’s not forget somewhere, right now, there’s a spouse, a child, a parent, a fiancé, a sibling, or a friend who is carrying the weight of that loss. While we enjoy the day, they are remembering the heroes they lost.
This Memorial Day, I hope you’ll join me in taking a moment, a real moment, to remember what this day is truly about. It’s not just a long weekend. It’s a respectful pause, a tribute, and the responsibility for us to remember the fallen.
PEACE, Love, and Hugs!
If you’ve been following along, last week I shared my thoughts on how I believe there are two types of teachers, people, and leaders. This week, something has been weighing heavily on my heart after a conversation I had with someone who’s been deeply hurt. She called me with questions about my healing journey, and I felt compelled to share this with you.
As I’ve told many people before and as I told her, I don’t have all the answers. Honestly, I am just winging it as I go, while trying to be true and honest with myself along the way.
But if there’s one thing I’ve come to believe deeply, it’s this: What you allow yourself to feel is what you heal.
And if you choose not to go deep within yourself to truly feel, then whether you realize it or not, you’re choosing not to heal. You are choosing to stay in the space where pain, fear, and stories of the past keep you stuck.
From what I’ve seen, there are really two types of people who’ve experienced trauma, loss, and emotional wounds:
Type 1: Those who are actively trying to heal.
Type 2: Those who choose to remain unhealed.
Type 1 :
A healed person isn’t someone who’s “all better” or never gets triggered. They’re just someone who’s chosen to take responsibility for their part in the healing process. They are brave enough to love themselves, flaws and all. They aren’t ashamed to show up as they are, even when it means others may not understand or approve. A healed person surrounds themselves with others who are calm, honest, and emotionally available. They value a connection with people who communicate clearly and who take responsibility for their own shadows.
Type 2:
On the other hand, an unhealed person chooses, consciously or not, to remain a victim of their past. An unhealed person stays stuck in the same story, repeating it to themselves and others until it becomes their identity. They lie to themselves to avoid discomfort. They project their pain, deflect responsibility, or blame everyone else for where they are. And more often than not, an unhealed person surrounds themselves with others who are also unhealed. Why? Because misery feels safer when it is familiar.
So here’s the truth: every time you lower your frequency to meet someone at their level of dysfunction or avoidance, you end up paying for it. And that’s a lesson the healed no longer need to learn.
Healing isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing, day by day, to show up for yourself. To feel the things you’ve buried. To release the people, stories, and patterns that keep you small.
So if you’re somewhere in between, that’s okay. Please believe me, this isn’t about judgment. This is about awareness and the reminder that we all have the power to choose our healing, even if we’re just winging it along the way.
Peace, Love & Hugs!
I believe there are two types of teachers in this world; chances are, we’ve all learned from both.
The first type grades tests with a red ink pen. They mark the wrong answers with big, bold Xs. No explanations, no suggestions. Just a silent judgment that says, “You got this wrong.” They focus on what you missed, not how you might improve or how hard you tried.
Then there’s the second type, the blue pen teacher. They don’t just grade; they coach. When you make a mistake, they leave a note beside it, guiding you through the error, helping you understand, and encouraging you to do better next time. These are the teachers who see potential in every misstep and turn every test into a learning moment.
And just like there are two types of teachers, I believe there are two types of people.
Some walk through life with a red pen. They look for the flaw, highlight your mistakes, and focus on what went wrong. Not to help. Their goal isn’t growth; it’s to point out failure.
But then there are the blue pen people. The encouragers, the mentors, the people who help you turn setbacks into stepping stones. They don’t just point out what’s wrong, they help you figure out why and how to grow from it. They see mistakes as a necessary part of learning and evolving.
This idea doesn’t stop with teachers or peers. It extends into leadership.
The red micromanage and focus on what their team is doing wrong. They create fear, not growth. They think leadership is about control. The blue, on the other hand, leads with trust and compassion. They give feedback that builds rather than breaks. When something goes wrong, they ask, “How can we learn from this?” rather than, “You messed up!” Red leaders keep people small. Blue leaders help people rise.
Blue is the color of building, of planning, of possibility. Be someone’s blueprint. They don’t call them blueprints for no reason. Be the one who helps lay the foundation, guides the structure, and builds others up. Not tear them down.
In a world full of red pens, be someone who chooses a blue pen, as a teacher, a peer, a leader, and most importantly, as a human being. And if you are already a blue pen, have compassion for the red ones. Chances are, they were taught, led, or raised by someone who only used red. Sometimes people pass on what they were given. Not because it’s right, but because it’s all they know.
So lead with grace. Teach with empathy. Live with intention. The world doesn’t need more correction. It needs more connection.
Be the blue.
Peace, LOVE & Hugs!
Have you ever had someone pop into your thoughts out of nowhere and then stay there? Maybe it’s someone you haven’t spoken to in years, or someone you’ve barely met but can’t seem to forget.
There’s a saying that if you can’t get someone out of your mind, maybe they’re meant to be there. But if that is true, why do we talk ourselves out of reaching out? Why do we let our own self-limiting beliefs hold us back and let self-doubt creep in?
“What if they don’t want to hear from me?” ” What if it’s awkward?”
Are these fears from past experiences? Fear of rejection, or to protect our pride?
What if we challenged those beliefs? What if instead of overthinking, we simply followed that quiet but very loud inner voice we hear? Send the text… Make the call… Say hello.
The truth is, you never really know how impactful a simple connection can be. Maybe they have been thinking about you, too. Maybe your message arrives at the exact right time. Maybe it leads to healing, laughter, rekindled friendships, or something entirely unexpected.
So the next time someone crosses your mind and lingers there, don’t silence that instinct. Reach out. Speak up. Life has a funny way of bringing people back into our thoughts for a reason. Don’t let fear be the thing that stops you from finding out why.
PEACE, Love & Hugs!
Word of the day: Complications
The word was blaring in my head all night long, so let’s see where this takes me.
When you hear the word complications in a hospital, it’s usually terrifying. “There could be complications,” or “We had complications during surgery.” And in that moment, you surrender to whatever those complications are, and do whatever it takes to get better. The destination is clear- get out, heal, and move forward with your life.
So why don’t we live like that every day? Shouldn’t our destination not be a specific place, but a new way of seeing life?
Why do we complicate our lives by trying to control them by piling on unnecessary stress by overthinking every decision, and hesitating out of fear, when we know the more we complicate things, the more complications we create?
There comes a time in everyone’s life when you realize, “This is not what I want to keep going through.” Shouldn’t that be the very moment we start seeing life differently? A moment to simplify rather than complicate? But too often, instead of embracing change, why do we add more pressure, more expectations, more distractions?
Maybe we should ignore the odds, the overthinking, the complications, the need to control. And just let…go. Trust the flow. Let life take you where you’re meant to go.
I guess the answer to life is just that simple, and not as complicated as we make it. It’s not about controlling life, but about surrendering to it.
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
Sometimes, it only takes a feeling, maybe a lyric from a song or a scent, and suddenly I’m back. Back in a moment, I didn’t know I was holding onto. Back in a memory I didn’t realize I was making.
It’s wild how something so simple, like the way the ocean smells, or the sight of fireflies, can transport you back in time. You don’t always realize it in the moment, but those are the times that stay with you. The ones that become the stories your heart whispers back to you when you least expect it.
And that’s just it, memories aren’t always born from big vacations, fancy birthday parties, or picture-perfect milestones. Most of the time, they come from the simplest things. A laugh shared over coffee, a spontaneous dance in the kitchen, the sound of someone you love saying your name.
If there’s one message I could leave behind, one thing I hope someone hears, it’s this….BE PRESENT.
Because memories don’t wait.
I wish I had known that then. I wish I had taken more time to just be in those little moments, instead of rushing through them or assuming there would always be more. There are memories I will never get the chance to make with Shawn ever again. And that truth hits deep. But what brings me comfort are the memories we unknowingly made. They are the gifts he left behind, tucked deep within my heart, where they’ll stay forever.
So take it from someone who learned through loss. Slow down. Look around. Hold the hand next to yours a little tighter. Be there. Fully. It really is all about the simple things in life.
Because someday, that random breeze or song on the radio will carry you back, and you’ll be grateful you were there when that memory was made.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
“Eight Letters, Three Words, One Feeling: I Love You”
I bet the title had you thinking this was going to be one of those sentimental, sugar-coated takes on love. But not today. In fact, this might come across as a little tough, but trust me, it comes from experience. I’ve loved, I’ve lost, and in the process, I’ve learned exactly what love is and what isn’t. So here goes…
“I love you.” Three simple words, yet they hold power to change lives, heal wounds, and create the deepest connections.
Love is one of the most beautiful experiences we can share, but the truth is, many people don’t realize the value until it’s gone. We often confuse love with attachment or obligation. But real love? It doesn’t leave you questioning your worth.
Love is not a reason to tolerate disrespect. If you have to beg for love, it’s not love at all. The person who truly loves you will never make you feel like you have to fight for a place in their life. Love isn’t possession. It isn’t about control. It isn’t about losing yourself to make someone happy.
And sometimes love hurts. Ironically, the ones we think would never hurt us are often the ones who do. But even with the pain, we should choose to love ourselves. Choosing yourself is not giving up on love for others.
If love makes you feel small, uncertain, or unworthy, then it’s not the love you deserve. It’s okay to walk away from what doesn’t feel right. The sooner you do, the sooner you make room for the love that is meant for you.
And the greatest truth about love? You can’t truly receive it until you’re willing to give it freely, without fear, and without limits.
Why? Because in the end, love isn’t something you take; it’s something you become. So love hard, deeply, fearlessly, and unapologetically because no matter what, true love is always worth it.
Peace, LOVE, and Hugs!
Recently, I was asked how I came up with the name “God, A Blonde, and a Bottle of Wine” and why I no longer go by “The Journey of the Widow Diva.”
When I first began writing as “The Journey of a Widowed Diva”, I was at the very beginning of that journey. One I never asked for, never wanted, and yet, there I was, thrown into a category called widowedhood at the age of 46 years old. One I never imagined being a part of. I poured my heart out, trying to navigate a life without Shawn. One that was unfamiliar, uncertain, and at times, unbearable. But at the time, I also thought I almost had it all figured out, and I was on the road to complete healing. However, I had NO idea about the twists and turns I would have to endure. I also tried to ignore a small but loud voice deep within me telling me it wasn’t going to be easy. And, Oh. My. God, the mistakes I made. I made PLENTY of them. But looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing because every step, every misstep, brought me to the person I am today.
So here I am now. “God, A Blonde, and a Bottle of Wine.”
Without God and His guiding voice, I wouldn’t have made it this far, let alone be able to share my journey with others. Have I always listened? I wish I could say yes, but the truth is, I haven’t. If you knew me then and you know me now, you’d see that part of me hasn’t completely changed. I sometimes still screw up by relying on the crazy voices in my head. And you guessed it, I’m always wrong when I do. Yes, I still make mistakes. Yes, I still wander aimlessly sometimes. I still don’t have it all figured out. I can’t say I am healed because how does anyone know when they are completely healed? Just like any wound, over time it may not hurt as much, but the scar remains. My scar will be a part of who I am for the rest of my life.
As far as the blonde and the wine part? Well, I think that part speaks for itself. Although I may have more gray hair than before, this blonde still loves her wine!
I was also asked why I always end my writings with the words, Peace, Love, and HUGS! To answer that, I have to go back to when I was writing “The Journey of a Widowed Diva.” I used to simply end my messages with HUGS! Back then, I believed everyone could use one, and all we needed was an embrace, a simple human touch to bring us comfort. But through all the trials and tribulations I’ve faced, my sign off has evolved. Now, I close with Peace, Love, and HUGS because I have found peace in my journey by learning true love never dies and how to love deeper and wholeheartedly. And HUGS…. well, that hasn’t changed. I still believe we all need a big, long hug sometimes.
Believe it or not, I learn something new about myself each time I write. After reading this, I realized I once wrote to seek healing. Now, I write to reflect and to grow.
I wander aimlessly. I make mistakes. I don’t have it all figured out. I have also endured more than I have yet to share with you. But I have grown. I have changed. Yet, despite all the growth and changes, some things in me remain the same.
Peace, Love and…. 6-second HUGS!!
If you’ve been riding along for the past two weeks, you know she found herself at a fork in the road. A place of reflection or possibility. Then last week, she reached a stop sign, a moment where she had to pause, find stillness, and truly listen to where God was leading her.
So here we are, this week. She has more clarity but still has a few lingering questions. She’s at a check-your-engine point.
The road that’s called LIFE moves fast. Between responsibilities, expectations, and the constant pressure to meet others’ needs, it’s easy to lose sight of ourselves. But at some point, we have to check in and ask: Am I spending my time and energy on the right people and things?
Time is precious. If a person or situation doesn’t recognize your worth, why continue pouring into something that doesn’t pour back into you? Efforts speak volumes. When someone genuinely values you, their actions—big or small—reflect it. Love, respect, and appreciation aren’t just spoken; they’re shown.
So take a moment and ask yourself:
-When was the last time I truly recharged—physically, mentally, or emotionally?
-Are the people in my life uplifting me?
-Am I the only one making an effort?
-Am I receiving the same energy I’m giving?
If you’re a priority in someone’s life, their actions will show it. If you constantly have to question where you stand, that may already be your answer.
Beyond relationships, this check-in applies to all areas of life. Are you where you want to be? If not, maybe it’s time to make a change. Growth requires honest reflection and the courage to walk away from what no longer serves you.
She’s still on the journey. But with every check-in, she’s getting closer to clarity, closer to alignment, and closer to the life she…. I am meant to live. Why? Because I know MY time and peace are invaluable to the life I deserve. I will continue to check in with myself ensuring that the people in my life and the spaces where I want to grow are truly valuable and worthy of my energy.
And I hope if you are at a fork in the road, you find stillness so you, too, can check your engine!
Peace, love, and HUGS!
Last week, I wrote about the fork in the road and the moment she must decide whether to go left or right to move forward. However, this week, she finds herself standing still at a stop sign. Not because she’s lost, but because something in her whispers: Wait.
What if the real answer isn’t in moving forward at all? What if the real answer lies in the pause? Will she find her clarity in that stillness?
The thing about life is that time passes so quickly. You don’t even notice it until something, a moment, or a realization, stops you in your tracks. It’s like the road suddenly stretches out in silence, and you’re forced to take in everything you’ve been speeding past.
Before we rush ahead, we need to stop and realize one simple truth. We need to trust where God is leading us. His plans far exceed anything we can ever imagine. He knows who belongs in our life and who doesn’t. We need to stop seeing ourselves through the eyes of someone who doesn’t see us. We need to stop measuring our worth through someone else’s inability to recognize it. God loves us. We are perfect and enough in His eyes.
Sometimes, before we move forward, full speed ahead, we may have to stand still. We may have to take a pause on that road ahead of us and look inward. We may need to ask ourselves:
What do I truly deserve out of life?
Only when we answer that question, only when we learn to trust and let go, can we take the next step with confidence. And when we do, the road ahead becomes clearer than it ever was before.
So maybe this week isn’t about her moving forward full speed. This week is about her standing still and finally listening to where God is leading her. I mean, leading….. ME.
I am, her.
Peace, love, and HUGS!
I am sure there’s been a time (or two) in your life when you just didn’t know which way to turn. You don’t know where life is taking you. One minute, you think you’ve got it all figured out, and the next, you’re left with nothing but confusion. Mixed signals. Second-guessing. Scratching your head, wondering, what the hell is this all about?
Ever felt that?
Or maybe, just maybe, you’ve found yourself on the back of a Harley-Davidson on a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining without a cloud in the sky, and for a few hours, you feel completely free. No deadlines. No expectations. You pull out your phone and snap a selfie in the rearview mirror, not because of vanity but because you want to capture this feeling. Because you know tomorrow is Monday. And Monday means going back to being the person you have to be during the week.
No? You’ve never done that? Well, just roll with me here (no pun intended) and pretend you know exactly what I am talking about.
Imagine this: a girl riding on the back of a motorcycle, taking that mirror selfie at a literal fork in the road. Two paths stretch ahead, left or right. Each one leads to something. Maybe adventure. Maybe disaster. Maybe something she never saw coming – or maybe, gasps… exactly what she’s been praying and searching for.
The question is, which way should she go? And maybe the bigger question is, should she even be looking in that rearview mirror at all? It’s easy to keep glancing back, isn’t it? To get caught up in who we used to be. Sometimes, the reflection feels clearer than the road ahead.
But here’s the thing: She can’t move forward if she keeps looking back. That rearview mirror is small for a reason. It’s there to remind her where she’s been, not to dictate where she could possibly go.
So maybe this is the moment. The fork in the road. The time for her to choose:
Left or right?
Forward or back?
Reflection or possibility?
Take the selfie if you must. Capture the moment. But then put the phone away, wrap your arms around the present, and lean into the turn.
Because in the twists and turns on the road ahead of her is where she will find her answers.
And who is she? She is… me. Yup, I took this picture. That’s me in the mirror at the fork of a road, literally.
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
Can you ever really find closure after experiencing trauma? It’s a question that has haunted me for years. And after everything, here’s where I’ve landed.
I don’t think closure is something we find at all. It’s not a place we arrive at or a final chapter that ties everything up neatly. Closure isn’t something that just happens. If anything, we have to create our closure and accept the gifts that loss has granted us.
Gifts? Yes, you read that correctly.
For me, creating closure has meant actively facing the pain and grief of my past, allowing myself to feel every raw emotion that comes with it instead of pushing it down. That’s what I always tell others who have been hurt. If you feel like crying, cry. Let it out. The more we ignore our emotions, the more they linger beneath the surface, waiting to erupt like a volcano.
I remember my therapist once explaining how our brains store memories and emotions, even the ones from years ago, buried deep like fossils. She explained this process, called memory consolidation, means fear, pain, and grief will not just disappear. Even if we don’t acknowledge them, they remain, shaping us in ways we may not even realize.
I’ve learned firsthand that just because you don’t cry doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there. Avoiding it doesn’t erase it. Our brains hold onto those feelings, and eventually, they will find a way out, usually in some very unexpected ways.
But here’s the thing, closure doesn’t have anything to do with grieving. It’s about finding a way to honor what was lost. Maybe it’s choosing to live in a way that reflects the love we had for someone who’s no longer here.
Every day, I choose to show up for my life in a way that would make Shawn proud. That, to me, is closure. Not forgetting, not moving on, not longing for what was, but embracing my life and moving forward with the gift of wisdom, love, and the strength that loss has given me.
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Or as some of us call it- Friday. A Friday where we get to watch our social media feeds explode with flower arrangements, overpriced chocolates, and couples declaring their undying love for each other. How sweet. How romantic. How…. predictable.
Look, if you’re here, you probably thought this was going to be one of those “You’re not alone, your person is out there, just be patient” pep talks. Nope. Not today. Let’s be real: Valentine’s Day has a way of reminding us who has a person and who is currently binge-watching Netflix with a family-sized pizza (which, let’s be real with each other here, is just a personal pizza with a few extra steps).
But before you spiral into the abyss of self-pity, let me let you in on a little secret, Valentine’s Day is just another day. No, seriously. The world keeps spinning whether or not you receive a stuffed bear holding a heart that says “I Wuv You.”
And honestly, let’s talk about the people in relationships for a second. While the single, pizza-eating people are dodging heart-shaped advertisements, they’re out there stressing. What to buy? Is a card enough? Will she be mad if it’s not jewelry? Will he even notice if I just cook dinner instead? Meanwhile, the pizza eaters have no expectations, no last-minute drugstore runs, no pressure. Kind of sounds like.. freedom???
Because when it comes down to it, isn’t love supposed to be more than just one day? Shouldn’t we be celebrating love, kindness, and appreciation every day? Love isn’t just grand gestures and fancy dinners, it’s feeling seen, valued, and in my opinion, the most important, feeling… wanted.
So if you’re going to be alone tomorrow night. I salute you. I see you. You’re not actually missing out, you’re just waiting for the right person. And maybe, just maybe, they’re out there too and will be sitting on their sofa, eating their pizza, waiting for the day when they finally get to spend every day making you feel seen, valued, wanted, and like every day is a Valentine’s Day.
Until then? Wait for it. Enjoy the freedom, own your Friday night, and remember – 50% off chocolate starts on Saturday.
Peace, love, and HUGS!
I’ve always said I write when my brain insists that I need to release whatever’s brewing inside me. Most of the time, when I sit down to write, I don’t really know what’s going to come out. Sometimes it’s a conversation I had with someone, a song lyric, a dream, or just something heavy in my heart that needs to be released. Tonight, for some reason, there’s one word that won’t leave my mind…..Potential.
Why potential? Honestly, I have no idea. But here we go. Let’s see where this takes me.
Here’s the thing about potential, it’s never one-sided. If you want the good things in life, you have to be willing to risk the possibility of bad things. It’s like a package deal.
If you want love, you have to accept the potential for rejection.
If you want deep, meaningful friendships that feel like family, you have to accept the potential for the disappointment of failed connections.
If you want to chase your dreams, you have to face the potential of falling on your face.
No matter how you slice it, potential isn’t always pretty. It’s uncertain, it’s vulnerable, and it’s scary. But here’s the kicker, the good stuff, the really great stuff, only comes when you embrace both sides of potential.
You can stay in your comfort zone forever. You can avoid risks and shield yourself from heartbreak, failure, or embarrassment. But if you do that, you also block out the chance for love, connection, and the kind of joy that makes life worth living.
The truth is, the greatest things in life require us to take a leap, to open ourselves up to all the messy, beautiful possibilities. You can’t have the sunshine without the risk of a little rain.
So tonight I am reminding myself, and maybe you too, that it’s okay to risk the bad things for the potential of something amazing. Because staying safe and small isn’t living. It’s existing.
And I for one, don’t want to just exist.
Take the leap. Embrace the potential.
Peace, Love, & HUGS!
Here we are two weeks into the new year. I thought I’d check in to see how’s it going for you? How are those resolutions holding up? New year, new you, right?
For some, the promise they made to themselves at midnight on January 1st is still alive. If that’s you, I applaud your commitment and determination! Keep at it. New beginnings are your stepping stones to your growth and health.
And then there are people like me, those who didn’t make a resolution, or who decided we were perfectly fine with who we were going into the new year. New year, old me.
So how’s it going for all of the new year, old you people? You are my people!! If you are like me, you’ve probably had some moments of clarity. Maybe you’ve been reminded that the world around us doesn’t change just because the calendar does. And you know what? That’s okay. The old you saw it coming and didn’t go into the new year expecting anything different. We have learned to accept what is. Let go of what was. And have Faith in what will be. I applaud YOU, too! Because sometimes the best resolution is simply to stay true to yourself.
And for all of the new year, new you people out there…. Could you do us one simple favor and work on your gym etiquette for all of us old me’s who have been going all year long?
Peace, Love, & HUGS!
11 Years.
4,018 Days.
574 Weeks.
132 Months.
I’m sure I’ve messed up the math somewhere, but honestly—who counts? Days, weeks, months, years—they all blur together, and they all hurt.
This day never gets any easier for me. The day I lost you, my life was forever changed. You’re missed every single moment, and when you left, a piece of my heart went with you.
But with every passing day, my heart has slowly mended. It’s grown stronger in ways I never thought possible. Though you’re no longer here, you’ll always hold that one irreplaceable part of my heart—a part that will never belong to anyone else.
Life keeps moving forward. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes into days, and days into years. And so, I move forward too. My heart is at peace knowing that you are at peace.
I love you. I miss you. Until we meet again, I will honor your legacy by living with the love and kindness you always shared effortlessly
What does a girl do when she’s diagnosed with the flu during Christmas week? It’s easy to surrender to frustration or sadness on missing out on family, grandchildren, and the holiday parties. Does she feel sorry for herself? Get upset about being sick and lonely? Or maybe angry at the thought that someone else spread their germs?
No, not this girl.
This girl, who has spent nearly a week battling Type A flu, chose a different path. I decided to dig deep into my thoughts and look for gratitude instead of dwelling on disappointment. And you know what? I found it.
Yes, the year 2024 is ending on a sick note for me. But this year has been one of the best I’ve had in a very long time. A year so full of blessings that being grateful feels like the only fitting way to close it.
This year began with a dream come true. In January, I stepped into a new role with a new dream job. A position I never imagined achieving a few years ago. It was a moment that felt surreal. A true testament to the power of prayer.
Then came one of my greatest joys of life, welcoming my fourth grandbaby into the world. If you’re a grandparent, you know there’s no love quite like it. My heart grew fuller this year.
2024 was also a year of victories for my children. I watched two of them land new jobs with new roles, while my third child walked across the stage becoming a nurse practitioner. It was a moment of pride that I’ll treasure forever. One of my children also became a new homeowner this year as well.
So as I sit here at the end of the year, sick but not defeated, I choose gratitude. I chose to reflect on the incredible blessings that have come my way in 2024. My health will return, but the memories and milestones of this year will stay with me forever.
I’m thankful for the opportunities, the growth, and the love I’ve experienced. And instead of focusing on the flu, I’m choosing to rest, recharge, and prepare for what’s to come.
2025, I’m ready for you. If this year was any indication, I have every reason to believe the best is yet to come.
Wishing all of you a holiday season filled with love, hope, and a little bit of flu-free gratitude.
Peace, love, and HUGS!
Here we are again, in the midst of another holiday season. A season often described as a time of miracles. The lights, music, Hallmark movies…. they all carry a promise of something magical. But have you ever stopped to wonder…What are holiday miracles? And, more importantly, how many people are out there waiting for one to magically show up?
We hear stories about an unexpected stroke of luck, patched-up relationships, or life-changing surprises that some people experience during this time of year. But what if this holiday season doesn’t bring you a miracle? What if the season comes and goes, leaving you still waiting? Do you hold your breath for another year, hoping that next time will be different?
This brings me to my question for you: What are you waiting for?
What holiday miracle are you waiting for to magically arrive? Love? Health? Happiness? A new beginning? A sense of purpose?
Here’s the thing… you don’t have to wait. Why not make your own miracle?
If it’s love you’re longing for, why not take a chance and say the things you’re too scared to say? Be vulnerable. Life is too short to wait for the perfect moment.
If it’s health you are seeking, why wait for the stroke of midnight on January 1st to start? Why not today? Take that small step toward becoming the version of yourself you dream of being.
If it’s happiness, stop chasing it and start creating it in the small, ordinary moments of every day. Do something that makes your heart lighter.
Be honest and admit what you already know, holiday miracles aren’t found under a tree or wrapped with a shiny bow. They happen when you choose to believe in yourself, when you take the first step toward what you want, and when you let go of the fear that’s holding you back.
This holiday season, don’t wait for a miracle, be the miracle. Take action. Take a risk. Make your magic happen. Because the greatest gift you can give yourself is the realization that you already hold the power to change your life, to create your joy, and to light up your own world.
So I’ll ask you one more time… What are you waiting for? Go. Make it happen.
Peace, Love, & HUGS!
Today would have been your 59th birthday. I sit here, reflecting on how we might have celebrated this special day. I can’t help but let my mind wander to thoughts of birthday celebrations in Heaven. What do they look like? Are there angelic choirs singing, radiant lights with a divine glow, and joyous parties that are better than anything we could ever imagine on Earth? My faith and heart tell me you are in Heaven, where every day is a celebration.
I picture you surrounded by beauty, peace, and love that words here could never truly capture. It’s comforting to know that no matter how much effort I could have poured into making this day special for you, there is no comparison to the glory of where you are now. I feel peace knowing you are in Paradise and that you are embraced by something far greater than anything we could ever create or experience here.
It soothes my soul to think of how you are surrounded by love and part of a celebration that never ends. One day, I will join you, and we will celebrate together. Until that day comes, I will carry on here and move forward with my life, as you would want me to. I will continue to honor your legacy by living as you once lived with kindness, strength, and complete unconditional love for those around me.
Today, I celebrate you. I celebrate your life, your laughter, and the beautiful memories we once shared. And though the ache of your absence will always remain, so does the gratitude for the time we had. Happy Heavenly Birthday, Shawn. You are forever celebrated, forever loved, and forever remembered.
For some people, Veterans Day marks a three day holiday weekend. I have a confession, it wasn’t until I met a Veteran that I truly began to grasp the profound significance of this day.
When I write, I often explore the different types of loss and how they shape our lives. I write about the importance of truly knowing someone and the act of deeply listening to their stories. But have you ever taken the time to truly listen to a veteran? Not just a polite nod or a passing thank you, but a real, attentive moment of understanding. Many veterans keep their stories locked away, hidden in silence, yet those memories linger, haunting them as a constant reminder of what they endured for us. The silence isn’t just an absence of words, it’s filled with reminders of pain and resilience, something that continues long after their service has ended.
They fought for us with pride, stood their ground, and served their time with dedication. But when they return home, they often bear invisible wounds, carrying scars that we cannot see. Life resumes for the rest of us, the daily routine, the comfortable distance from conflict, while they quietly carry the weight of their memories. This, too is a kind of grief. While I have not served in the military, I am familiar with the pain from grief. I can imagine it may feel like a living reminder of loss, similar to the grief of losing a loved one, though each experience is unique. Just as we eventually move forward after a death, those who have sacrificed are left with the physical and invisible scars of their experiences.
So today, thank a veteran. But if you can, go further, take a moment to truly see them. Listen to their stories, or simply acknowledge the depth behind their silence. Imagine their journey, their sacrifices, and the reality they carry. It’s a reality that doesn’t end when the uniform is folded away. We owe them not just gratitude, but understanding.
Veterans Day is more than a holiday, it’s a reminder to honor those who gave so much and continue to live with the memories of their service. Let’s make space to listen, to learn, and to appreciate the stories that are shared or their silence that speaks volumes.
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
On October 31, 1982, I went on my first date with Shawn. I was about four months shy of 16 and had to sneak out, telling my parents I was going to a haunted house with my friends because I wasn’t allowed to date until I was 16 years old. I can remember the mix of nervousness and the excitement of those early days.
If you think back to your own first date, you can probably still feel the butterflies in your stomach, that thrill of holding hands for the first time, maybe even that first kiss. It’s a rush of emotions and newness, and we never think those feelings will fade. Yet, as months turn into years, as we build lives together filled with commitments, work, and eventually, kids, that spark we once had can fade into the background. The excitement that once came naturally turns into routine, and the passion that once lit up every interaction can sometimes feel buried under daily responsibilities.
Even though 42 years have passed since our first date, I still cherish the memories of all the firsts I was blessed to share with Shawn.
If I could give one piece of advice, it would be this: never stop dating your partner. No matter how many years have passed, or how many responsibilities fill your days. Make it a priority to rekindle that spark. Life will shift and change, and if life allows, there will come a time when it’s just the two of you again. Nurture that connection today, so that when the years have passed, the spark is still there, ready to carry you through.
So go on those dates, sneak a kiss, hold hands, and remember the magic of the first night together. Let it remind you why you chose each other in the first place and keep choosing each other, every single day.
Peace, Love, & HUGS!
I can remember writing this to Shawn back in March 2015, just 16 months after I lost him. It’s obvious at the time, I believed my grief journey was over. Reading it now, it’s clear I thought I had reached all of the stages of grief everyone tells us about. Little did I know, it was just a small hill I had crossed at the time, and was unaware of the mountain that lay ahead of me.
That’s the thing about grief. There were many sneaky hills that I crossed, thinking I reached the top of it, but it was that mountain- that huge, steep mountain- that required me to take one small step at a time to reach the summit, where I could finally look back and see all the hills I crossed to get where I am today.
And guess what? There are still hills on top of the summit. Grief doesn’t ever completely go away, but there are fewer hills and somehow they become smaller than they once were before.
Keep climbing! Peace, Love & HUGS!
March 6, 2015
Hey Shawn,
I didn’t want to change my Pandora station to a genre you and I never listened to together. Most of the music I’ve been listening to is new music you never had the opportunity to hear when you were here with me. I thought if I listened to our old music, it would feel like you were still with me. I didn’t want to listen to any uplifting songs because I wanted to continue to feel the deep, sad feelings I would feel when I heard certain songs. But I did.
I didn’t want to laugh or smile again. I thought it would be disrespectful to you if I felt anything besides complete sadness. I felt guilty. How dare I laugh about something funny? How dare I smile or show a little spark of happiness on my face? But I smiled.
I didn’t want to wash the last outfit you ever wore because I wanted to continue to somehow smell you. I thought if I kept it in your closet, I would continue to feel my sadness and loneliness. But I washed it.
I didn’t want to sell your truck. I thought if I kept it in our driveway, I could continue to go out there every morning as a reminder you weren’t here. But I sold it.
I didn’t want to skip a week of bringing you flowers to your resting place. I didn’t ever want to be so busy that I would break the promise I made to myself to bring you fresh flowers once a week for the rest of my life. But I broke my promise.
I didn’t want to take my wedding ring off my finger. I thought I should put it on a gold chain, with yours to wear around my neck 24/7. I didn’t want to take the chain off my neck while I slept alone at night. But I removed it while I slept.
I didn’t want to stop crying every single day of my life. I didn’t want to have to stop hiding the red swollen eyes behind my sunglasses. But I didn’t cry today.
I didn’t want to go to dinner and have drinks with friends. I didn’t want to have fun or have a good time without feeling guilty. But I had dinner with them.
I didn’t want to start caring about my health again. I never wanted to swallow another vitamin ever again. I never wanted to feel my heart stop racing from drinking 3-4 huge mugs of coffee every morning instead of eating food for breakfast. But I did because I needed to take back control of my health again.
I didn’t want to start feeling again. I wanted to continue to feel like a shell of a person. I wanted to be numb. I wanted to hurt. I never wanted to feel feelings again. But I am not numb today.
I didn’t want to seek new experiences. I wanted to continue to relive my old ones. But I am experiencing my new normal.
I didn’t want to see there was a little good in every situation I was handed. But there is always a little good in every situation.
I didn’t want to know what acceptance was. I never wanted to have to accept our story didn’t end the way we planned together. But I had to.
I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to love life again. I didn’t want to find myself again. But I am.
Back in May 2024, I asked you to consider the last time you truly saw someone- not just by looking at their face, but by looking deep into their eyes. I mentioned the eyes are often called the windows to the soul for a reason because they reveal the stories a smile might conceal, the depth of a person’s experiences, their sorrows, fears, and hidden truths.
That reflection has since led me to think deeper: Do we really know someone’s soul?
We can spend years with someone, loving them, and yet never touch the essence of who they truly are. We might know their habits, their quirks, and their outward expressions, but what about the hidden depths that live deep in their soul?
What are their dreams? What fears do they carry? What is their favorite smell that reminds them of a special memory? What makes them laugh from the deepest part of their being? What do they long for when the world is still and quiet? And perhaps most importantly, do they want us to know the parts of themselves they rarely show?
We often move through life on the surface, but what would change if we allowed ourselves to reach deeper? To connect not just with the person in front of us but with an intention to learn the invisible parts that make them who they are?
So I leave you with this: To truly know someone is not to simply touch their skin. It’s about touching their soul.
Peace, Love & HUGS!
It took me a long time to realize that I was overcomplicating my life. I was constantly overthinking, trying to plan every moment, every outcome, every possible scenario. Do I still overthink? I’d be lying if I said no. But I am learning to recognize when I’m trapped in ruminating thoughts. The difference now is that I am able to stop, breathe, and see through the noise.
How? I’ve surrounded myself with a fierce, compassionate small tribe of women who walk beside me. These women never rushed me to figure things out; they simply stayed, supporting me until I was able to find my own inner fierceness again. Looking back, I realize how lucky I’ve been to have this kind of circle. They’ve helped me understand that life doesn’t have to be complicated.
But here’s where my overthinking creeps back into the space even my fierce tribe of women can’t fully help with. As grateful as I am to have this circle of support, I can’t help but wonder how many men are out there overthinking with broken hearts. Who do they turn to? Do they have a supportive tribe walking beside them, or are they quietly struggling with their ruminating thoughts?
So gentlemen, if you are caught in your thoughts, feeling alone- I am writing this one for YOU.
If your heart is broken, seek out others who have walked that same path. The brokenhearted ones will teach you the most valuable lessons- how to heal, how to live alone, how to end something that needs an ending, and most importantly, how to start all over again.
If you’re unsure whether you already have a supportive tribe, pay attention to how the people you surround yourself with make you feel. Your people are the ones who make your heart sing and bring calmness to your nervous system. You’ll know because you feel safe, accepted, and seen around them.
And if you don’t know what you should be pursuing in life right now, here’s a suggestion, pursue yourself. Focus on becoming the healthiest, happiest, most healed, and most confident version of yourself. The right path will reveal itself when you’re ready, because the more in tune you are with yourself, the clearer your direction will become.
Life doesn’t have to be so complicated. In fact, the most powerful moments in life are often the simplest. Find your tribe, then find yourself. Yes, it’s that simple.
Peace, Love & HUGS!
Today marks 10 years since I made the decision to remove my wedding band, nine months after losing Shawn. At that time when I posted the following, I wanted to convey a message. And now a decade later, I find myself wanting to express that same thought, but with wisdom and growth that has come from my journey.
Ten years ago today, I took the ring off my finger and placed both of our wedding bands on a chain, which I wore around my neck for nearly a year. What I was trying to say then, and what I am trying to emphasize now, is this, a wedding ring isn’t the true reflection of a marriage. Some may feel the need for a big diamond or a flashy ring, but it’s not the ring that defines a marriage. It’s the two people who wear those rings that truly matter.
There will come a time, unfortunately, when one of you will face the heartbreaking decision of what to do with your ring after losing your spouse, just as I had to. Please remember, the moment you take your vow and exchange those rings, those rings are just symbols. What truly defines a marriage is the love and commitment between the two people who wear them.
Peace, Love & Hugs!
September 24, 2014
As l lay in my bed tonight my hand automatically wanted to hold my necklace of love. I took my wedding ring off today because it no longer felt the same on my finger as it once did. Somehow it feels better next to his, closer to my heart, and around my neck. That’s also his crucifix and mine too. Our rings are now closer to my heart and surrounded by Jesus. Why am I posting this??? I guess I wanted to share with you my experience with our rings. When we got married at the age of 20 and 21 we had promised each other that we would give each other “better” rings when we could afford to. Through the years we continued to wear our modest rings and with each anniversary we would say maybe next year we would buy new rings. Somehow it never was the right time. When we celebrated our 25th year of marriage, we both looked at our rings and at the same time said that we didn’t want to ever get new rings because these were the rings that we stood before God when we made our vows to each other. Shawn and I knew it was the two of us that made our marriage, not the rings. I sometimes catch people looking at my neck when I leave my house and at first, I didn’t understand what they were looking at. Now I pray when they see my necklace of love they are reminded that the rings they proudly wear on their fingers could possibly be worn around their necks one day like me. I pray they go home to their spouses and realize how blessed they are and their rings aren’t their marriage, it’s the two people who wear them. God Bless! Hugs!
Dear Friend,
I love our time together and the conversations we share. However, after our dinner the other night, my mind wouldn’t let me rest, and I realized there was more I wanted to add to our discussion. If there’s one message I could ever deliver to you, it would be about love. Love, in all its raw, messy, and beautiful forms, is what truly makes life meaningful. But too often, we wait until it’s slipping through our fingers to realize how much it means. We wait until love is a memory before we value it fully. Let this be your reminder and please trust me when I say…DON’T WAIT.
Love hurts sometimes, love anyway. Love isn’t always easy, but it must be real, genuine, raw, and nothing less than that. You might fear the vulnerability that comes with love, knowing it can expose you to pain, but that’s where the beauty lies too. When love is real, it changes you, it deepens you.
But here’s something else I want to tell you, it’s okay to walk away from love if it doesn’t feel right. Just because love is important doesn’t mean you should hold on to something that diminishes you. Staying in a place where you feel small, constantly questioning your worth, is not love. It’s attachment, it’s fear of the unknown, and that is not what love is meant to be.
The sooner you let go of what isn’t right for you, the closer you’ll get to the love you deserve. Real love doesn’t require you to fight for your value, to prove yourself over and over again. You are worthy, and the right love will remind you of that every day. You shouldn’t need constant reminders of your worth from the person you’re with. If that’s what you’re seeking, it’s not love, it’s your sign to walk away.
Love is about seeing and being seen, cherishing and being cherished, without games or second-guessing. So love, with everything you have. But also love yourself enough to know when it’s time to walk away, trusting that the right love will come when you’re ready to receive it.
Love: Feel it. Cherish it. But know when to let go.
I love you, my beautiful friend,
Daneen
Peace, Love & Hugs!
I hope there comes a time in your life when you finally reach a place of true awareness. You’ll know you’re there when you feel unapologetically confident in who you are and what you stand for. It’s a journey marked by trials, mistakes, and heartache- challenges that test and shape us. But when you arrive at this place, it’s almost indescribable.
It has taken loss, heartache, prayers, finding my tribe of people, and A LOT of therapy for me to arrive at this beautiful place. Although I still don’t have all the answers yet, it’s what excites me the most. I feel the day you believe you know it all, is the day you stop learning and growing into the person you are meant to be.
But here’s what I do know.
I’m drawn to people who are consumed with passion, and who have a fire growing inside of them. The deep thinkers who can hold a meaningful conversation but most importantly, also have a very wicked sense of humor that makes me laugh at the most serious moments. I love the strong ones who don’t let their pride mask their vulnerabilities, and who are brave enough to speak up for what they want or don’t want in their life.
I’m in love with those who know how to listen wholeheartedly without rushing to offer judgmental advice. People with big hearts, deep souls, and wild minds who crave adventure. I cherish a friend who doesn’t count favors and simply lives by the testament: We’ve got each other’s back.
And this is what I know for sure.
If you’re not pouring into me with the same intention and love that I have to offer, I’m okay with that. I’ve learned to believe who you are the first time you show me. I no longer have the time to wait for someone to become the person I hoped they could be. And If you avoid me, it speaks more about you than it does about me because I am an open-hearted, open-minded soul with nothing to hide. It’s obvious it is you that has something to hide.
And listen up, if I’ve cut you out of my life, trust that it was for those reasons. Believe me when I say, I cut you out of my life for a reason. If you want back in, you’d better come back with intention, changed behavior, and genuine love. Only then will I decide if I have space for you in my life.
This may sound harsh to the weak-minded, but this unapologetic confidence I now have has brought me to a new level of self-assurance. A deeper loyalty to myself and the boundaries I’ve set for my own well-being.
But what intrigues me most are those who aren’t intimidated by my confidence and boundaries. Those willing to challenge themselves because they truly want to be a part of my life. Only the brave souls who seek the opportunity to experience genuine love and loyalty are welcomed into my world. No acceptions.
Peace, Love & Hugs!
As I sit here tonight, the rain is tapping against my window. It’s the kind of rain that keeps you inside, that stops you from jumping into your car to drive to a friend’s house for your regular daily four-mile walk. Tonight, it kept me from spending that cherished time with one of my very best friends. The one who knows me better than I sometimes know myself.
While we spoke on the phone, I told her I was bummed out that I didn’t exercise at all today, and also my soul felt like writing something tonight, but I was searching for inspiration. She reminded me of something important. “It’s okay not to do everything, every single day.” and “Give yourself grace to just be.” In one simple statement, she provided the inspiration I needed. Those words resonated with me, and they became the spark I was searching for.
Now, as I lay here on my sofa, listening to the rain, my laptop balanced on my stomach, I’m writing this not just for you, but for myself too. A reminder that missing one day of exercise isn’t the end of the world. Health doesn’t have to be purely physical. Being truly healthy and whole is about finding peace in solitude, feeling comfort in your own thoughts, and knowing the rain outside is a gift that teaches us to slow down and simply be.
So, let’s give ourselves the gift of grace. To accept pauses, the quiet moments, and the unexpected detours that remind us it’s okay to just be. Sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
And also sometimes, the rain is more than just weather. It’s a gift of grace, a gentle reminder that it’s perfectly okay to just be.
And to my BFF, who knows me better than I sometimes know myself, this is my gift to you. A gentle reminder to practice what you preach. It’s okay not to do everything, every single day. Allow yourself the grace you so often give to others- you deserve it just as much. I love you!
Peace, Love & Hugs!
We’ve all been there- stuck in traffic, aggravated and frustrated with the person in front of us driving too slowly. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves. But then I wonder how many times have I frustrated someone else because I was distracted, or driving slowly, lost in thought about something I was going through.
We’ve also all heard the saying, “Everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about, so be kind.” But it’s not until you find yourself in a personal struggle that you truly realize just how important kindness and patience are- especially when you’re the one who needs them most.
I feel there seems to be a misconception that grief only arises when we lose someone. But grief is much broader than that. People grieve over circumstances, relationships, missed opportunities, and even the versions of themselves that might have existed if things had turned out differently if they had made a different choice, if they had spoken up at the right moment, or if someone had stood up for them. Grief is painful. Grief causes distractions.
But how do we know when someone is going through such pain? It’s not as if we wear labels on our foreheads that say, “I lost my job,” I’m fighting cancer,” I’m going through a bad divorce,” I’m suffering emotional abuse,” or “I’m feeling worthless.” There’s no bumper sticker to say, “I messed up financially,” or…… “I’m grieving.” Yet the truth remains, everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about.
The least we can do is be patient and kind. The next time we find ourselves frustrated in traffic because someone is driving too slowly, consider that they may be in the middle of a battle right now. A battle without a label, without a bumper sticker to let us know.
Or maybe just maybe, we need to recognize battles within ourselves. That frustration we feel in traffic could be a perfect opportunity to acknowledge that our anger has nothing to do with being stuck behind a slow car. Instead, it might be a reflection of something deeper going on inside us. It could be our chance to pause, reflect, and find compassion, not just for others, but for ourselves.
Be kind to others, but most importantly, be kind to yourself because only then can you truly see that everyone is fighting a battle.
Peace, Love, & Hugs!
There’s something undeniably comforting about a really good hug. Whether it’s a warm embrace from a loved one or a spontaneous squeeze from a friend, hugs have a way of making everything just feel a little bit better.
Did you know that hugging goes beyond just making us feel warm and fuzzy inside? I did some research- shocking, I know! My very trusted source, Google, schooled me on hugs. There are real health benefits that come with this simple act of affection.
Hugs are truly universal. People use hugs to express love, comfort, support, and even joy. Research suggests that the average person craves a hug about 13 times a day. That’s right- 13 moments when a simple hug could make a world of difference.
So what makes a hug so powerful? When we hug, our bodies release oxytocin which is the “love hormone.” And here’s the kicker: while the average hug lasts 9.5 seconds, it takes a full 20 seconds for a hug to unlock its full healing potential. And that my friends is when the magic happens….
I think every human needs touch, and hugs are one of the easiest ways to fulfill that need. So, don’t hold back. Hug often and hug long, whether it’s a quick squeeze during a busy day or a lingering embrace at the end of the day.
Next time you’re in need of a pick-me-up., remember the best medicine might just be a 20-second hug. So go ahead, share the love, and spread those healing vibes. Your body and mind will thank you and so will the person you are hugging!
Peace, Love & HUGS!
Dear New Grief,
First and foremost, I want to express how deeply sorry I am for the pain you’re experiencing. Please know that even if it doesn’t feel this way now, you will get through this. There will come a time when you realize it. You will discover a purpose behind your pain. But in the meantime, I want to share something with you.
Grief from loss doesn’t disappear on command. You can try to drink it away, shop it away, push it down, ignore it, or pretend.. Grief is patient. It will wait for you, and it will return, demanding to be felt.
Grief offers us a choice: to turn our backs on life and wither away, or to honor ourselves by healing and moving forward.
It is easy to let your life become defined by how something ended, but true healing comes from remembering how it felt when it was yours. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can cry and close your mind and feel the emptiness, or you can smile, open your heart, love, and live.
But even as you heal, remember no matter how much work you’ve done on yourself, we all snap back sometimes. So be easy on you. No matter how much progress you make, there will be days when it feels like you’re back at the beginning. And that’s okay. Be kind to yourself to feel, grieve, and remember that healing is not about forgetting the pain. It involves embracing the fullness of your memories.
Please be happy for tomorrow and remember the joy of yesterday.
Peace, Love & Hugs,
Daneen
Last week, I dug deep into the concept of fate, describing it as a gentle guide that nudges us toward our destiny. This week, fate has revealed its more somber side. I learned that one of my classmates passed away after a long, hard battle with cancer. He bravely fought, embodying the true spirit of our high school mascot- a Warrior. His battle was nothing short of heroic, and his departure has left a profound impact on those who knew him.
As I reflect on life, I can’t help but wonder about the role of destiny. Was his untimely passing his destiny? It’s a question that lingers, an important reminder of life’s unpredictability. He may no longer be with us, but he has left a legacy- a testament to his strength and resilience.
In the face of such loss, we are reminded of how short life is. His journey teaches us a crucial lesson; life is fragile and passes quickly. We must cherish the present, live fully, and embrace each moment because we cannot predict what tomorrow holds.
His battle and passing should urge us to reconsider how we live our lives. Are we making the most of our time? Are we nurturing relationships and pursuing our passions? His story is a call to action- to live deliberately and with intention, to honor his memory by making each day count.
In tribute to this true warrior, let us strive to live our lives with the same courage and determination he displayed. Let his legacy inspire us to appreciate the here and now, to seek true love and love deeply, and to live fully. In doing so, we not only honor his memory but also embrace the delicate beauty of our own existence.
RIP my friend. You made it home. You are in Paradise. Your warrior tribe will continue to pray for your wife and your children, just as we had prayed for you, while you were here with us.
“Once a Warrior, always a Warrior.”
This morning, I woke up with a word blaring in my mind: fate. I have no idea why it appeared, but as my morning progressed, it refused to leave. Over and over, the word kept ringing in my head. Naturally, when this happens, it’s my signal to attempt to release what is happening in my brain. So here goes….
Fate, as they say, typically refers to events or outcomes that are predetermined and beyond our control. This definition makes me wonder, is it fate that certain people have entered and exited my life, guiding me toward my destiny?
I can’t help but think about the experiences and relationships that have shaped my journey. Each interaction, each encounter, seems to weave moments that appear random at first, but end up forming a pattern.
Perhaps fate is not just about predestination but also about the paths we choose to follow and the lessons we decide to learn. And how the people who have crossed my path were meant to teach me something and whether their presence or absence nudged me closer to fulfilling my purpose.
I guess you just can’t fight fate. It has a way of weaving itself into our lives, often in ways we least expect it. No matter how much I try to plan, predict, or control my path, there are moments when fate steps in, guiding me to unforeseen destinations. It’s in these moments that I realize I can’t fight fate. Instead, I embrace the journey, trusting that each twist and turn has a purpose, leading me exactly where I need to be.
So, as I release these thoughts into the world, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences as I have. Consider the possibility that fate is not just a distant, uncontrollable force but a quiet, gentle guide, shaping your journey in ways you might not yet understand. Embrace the people and moments that come your way, for they might just be the stepping stones leading you to your true destiny.
Everyone loves a great comeback story. We’ve all seen the Hollywood scripts: an athlete comes out of retirement to win a championship, the underdog knocks Goliath off his high horse, or a player returns from a major injury to finish their career on top. These stories become legendary, making athletes icons and giving us all the feels.
But what about us regular folks? We might not be dunking on ESPN or scoring last-minute goals, but many are making epic comebacks with all the same feels.
Think about it: we’ve all had those moments when life decides to play dodgeball with our dreams, and we’re the ones without the ball. We face personal losses, heartbreaks, and many other challenges that knock us off our feet. Yet, somehow, we dust ourselves off, pull up our socks, and get back into the game called LIFE.
So, while we cheer for athletes and their iconic comebacks, let’s not forget to applaud ourselves and the people around us. Whether it’s bouncing back from a setback, your stories are just as inspiring. We might not get a trophy or a spot on ESPN, but we earn far more value: character, strength, and the ability to laugh in the face of our setbacks. Because in the game of life, that’s how true champions are made. Let’s celebrate the unsung heroes, the everyday warriors who made their epic comebacks.
And remember, the secret to a great comeback isn’t just bouncing back, it’s bouncing back with style, grace, and maybe a little bit of humor. Adjust that helmet, wink at your haters, and let them eat your dust. I applaud YOU!
Peace, Love & Hugs!
I can remember when I got pregnant for the first time. I spent countless hours reading books, eager to absorb every bit of information about pregnancy. I wanted to know everything about how to navigate pregnancy. At the time, YouTube did not exist. So like millions of other pregnant women, I found myself turning to the well-known book, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” Its detailed explanations provided a guide through the unknowns of pregnancy. I had my first baby at the age of 22, my 2nd at the age of 24, and my 3rd by the age of 26. I had three babies in four years. And guess what? I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I did the best I could as a young mother to survive while keeping three babies alive. If there were a magical “What to Expect” book on survival, I wouldn’t have had the time to read it. So I did the best I could and relied on my instincts in a whirlwind of diapers, feedings, and sleepless nights while Shawn worked long hours to support us. Now let’s fast forward to their adolescent years. Each one of them had their own unique needs and personality, and balancing it all felt overwhelming. It felt like just when I thought I had their individual needs and ever-changing personalities figured out, one of them would change, and then I would have to start all over again trying to figure out who or…. what they were at any given moment. The day I lost Shawn, many moments remain a blur, yet some memories are strikingly vivid. That day marked the first time I called myself a widow. I remember looking at my mom and saying, “Oh my God, I’m a widower.” She gently corrected me, “No, you are a widow.” And after a brief moment and a huge gulp, I whispered, “I’m a widow.” The word widow terrified me because I had no idea how to navigate this new identity at the age of 46. There are no manuals, no guidebooks on how to be a single parent to adult children, and no “What to Expect” books when you become one. I was once again left to rely on my own instincts and do the best I could with the circumstances I faced. This is a picture of me on my daughter’s wedding day. I remember it well. I was kneeling down, looking up at my daughter while my mother helped button the thousands of buttons on the back of her beautiful wedding gown. I was in deep thought, wondering how it all happened so fast. How did she grow up and become old enough to be married? How will she navigate life without manuals? Did I teach her well enough to rely on her own instincts? And then on the day my son got married, I found myself questioning once more: Did I do my best to prepare him to be the man of the house in his father’s absence? Does he know to trust his own instincts? I now have three grandbabies under the age of four and another on its way. As with all the other times in my life, I sometimes question if I am doing this grandmother thing correctly. However, I rely on my instincts and do my best. This time around, I must admit, it’s much more fun yet still scary because, just like maternal instincts, grandmotherly instincts kick in, making me worry about them. Now don’t get me wrong, my children are amazing parents. So I don’t have that type of worry, I just worry about the little things like what will I do to the first kid that bullies one of them on the playground. I wonder how old my grandbabies might be when I get out of jail. So, here I am. In my quiet moments of solitude, I sometimes find myself wondering what lies ahead and whether my instincts will help me through any challenges that come my way. But then I remind myself that I don’t have to rely on my instincts anymore because I have a book that will guide me through anything life throws my way. It’s called “The Holy Bible.” This journey of me living in the present, and embracing the uncertainty of life fills me with a sense of curiosity. I am ready to face whatever the future may bring my way because He has a plan for me, my children, and grandbabies and it is all in His hands. Peace, Love, & Hugs!
Alright, let’s get real for a second. Whether you are grieving a loss, nursing a broken heart, or finally seeing someone’s true colors, it’s time to throw yourself a pity party, ice cream-stained clothes, and all.
I see you. You feel like you can’t breathe because your chest is about to explode. You can’t eat because your stomach feels like there is an elephant in it. But it also feels so good to eat those emotions away. The sweatpants you have been wearing for three days are somehow no longer feeling soft and now feel crusty and hard. Your sofa is the only place you want to be in at this moment. But you are also feeling guilty because you know you should be at the family get-together that you promised you would bring a stupid casserole to. You have 23 text messages you need to respond to but don’t have the energy or brain power so you just text back a smiley face emoji. And now dirty dishes in the sink are piling up and beginning to smell worse than your sweatpants.
I see you. You are sad. You are grieving your loss. Devour that pizza like it’s your last meal!
You wonder how could you be so wrong about someone or something? Questioning yourself why you chose to ignore the red flags. The painful thoughts keep ruminating over and over in your brain. You can’t sleep. Plotting revenge or hoping what they did to you will somehow happen to them one day. You are wondering if anyone else can see who they truly are. And how can they continue to get away with what they do?
I see you. You are mad. You are confused. Just remember, no one can wear a fake mask forever. Eventually, the lies liars tell turn out to be their own undoing. Cheaters are gonna cheat. Eventually, their “What’s Up” app or deleted text messages will get discovered by their “other”. Just know their day is coming. No need for revenge. Karma is a…..!
But listen up: this pity party has an expiration date. When it’s over, it’s time to rise, shine, and show the world what you’re made of. Get off that sofa, wash those nasty sweatpants, and for the love of God, take a shower!
I see you. You got this, Boo!
Peace, Love, & Hugs!
Last night, you visited me in my dream again. Over the past ten years, I’ve had countless dreams about you, but a few stand out as vividly as this one. Those special dreams are different. They linger in my mind with complete clarity, convincing me you are still with me.
In the early days, waking up from these dreams filled me with deep pain, longing for just one more moment to hold you in my arms and have you here beside me. Each one was a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what could never be again.
But over time, something changed. The sorrow began to fade, replaced by a comforting realization. These dreams became a source of comfort rather than sadness, a way for you to remind me that you are still with me, even if not in the way I once knew. I no longer dread waking up to find you gone. Instead, I cherish the moments when you visit me in my dreams, knowing you’re watching over me, guiding me, and loving me from Heaven.
Last night’s dream we were in an unfamiliar place, but everything felt so real. We didn’t need to speak much; just being together was enough. I woke up with a sense of peace, a feeling that your visit is to remind me that you’re never really gone.
Thank you for your visits, the comfort, and the reminders that love never dies. I’ll be here, waiting for the next time you choose to visit me in my dreams. Until then, I’ll carry the memory of last night’s dream in my heart, a precious gift from you that will keep me company until we meet again.
Have you ever paused to look around and wonder how many people are simply settling? Probably a hell of a lot. People settle into okay relationships, okay jobs, okay friends, and an okay life. Why? Because okay is comfortable. Okay pays the bills, and provides a warm bed at night. Some people are fine with okay, and guess what? That’s okay. But let’s be honest, okay isn’t thrilling. It isn’t passionate. It’s not life-changing…… but it is safe.
But what if we dared to step beyond okay? What if we reached for something more? The thrill of pursuing our dreams, the excitement of achieving something we once thought was impossible, and the satisfaction of living our life true to our passions. What if these are the rewards waiting on the other side of the comfortable-okay- zone?
Comfort is a very powerful force because it keeps us warm, safe, and secure. It’s the reason many people opt for it over the unknown. Okay means not having to worry about the next paycheck or the next lonely evening. Okay is the safe path, and it’s human nature to take it. But comfort as soothing as it is, can also be a trap. Settling for okay can stop your growth. When you settle, you stop pushing boundaries. You stop asking for more from life. You risk missing the chance to have someone look at you the way you deserve to be seen. You stop dreaming big. While settling for an okay life, you might miss out on extraordinary opportunities. The job that challenges you, the relationship that makes your heart race, or the passion that ignites your creativity. All these remain out of reach if you’re too comfortable to step out of your okay zone. It’s easier to stay in a secure situation than to risk the vulnerability and the uncertainty.
In the end, settling for okay is okay for some people, but will it leave them with a lifetime of what-ifs?
Peace, Love & Hugs!
Happy 37th Heavenly Wedding Anniversary, Shawn. Today would have marked 37 years since we said: “I do.” As I reflect on our wedding day and the life we once shared, I feel your presence and love surrounding me.
There’s an old saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words,” and this particular picture speaks volumes to me. It takes me back to one of our cherished long weekend escapes to the beach. The memories of that time come rushing back whenever I see this image.
I remember the day vividly. While I was soaking up the sun by the pool, you chose a spot in the shade to nap. I glanced over at you and couldn’t help but smile. I knew I had to capture this moment. This picture of you resting has always been one of my favorites.
Looking at this picture now brings me comfort. It’s how I envision you in Heaven, resting peacefully, free from worries, and surrounded by the Holiness of God. This image captured not just a moment in time, it’s how I see you in my heart.
In the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, it’s easy to forget to pause and appreciate these simple, yet profound moments. This picture reminds me of the importance of finding peace and joy in the little things.
This photograph isn’t just an image; it’s a story, memory, and a reflection of the beautiful person you were. And in my mind’s eye, this is how you will always be….. A picture of perfect contentment resting peacefully in Paradise.
Until we meet again, I will continue to seek the simple moments in life that matter the most. Rest peacefully! You are deeply loved and missed.
This morning, at 7 am on a typical Tuesday, I experienced something profound. As I walked out of the gym with one of my very best, dearest friends, discussing our upcoming day, we noticed a scene that left a lasting impact on both of us.
In the middle of the parking lot, two women stood next to one of the cars, praying. One woman had her head bowed, tears streaming down her face. The other woman had her hands placed on her friend, fervently praying, deeply attuned to God. Despite the hustle and bustle of people coming and going around them, they were completely absorbed in their moment with the Divine.
I do not know the specifics of their prayer, but the sight was beautiful and moving. It was a reminder of the power of prayer, especially when shared with a friend. The depth of their spiritual moment, standing in the middle of a busy parking lot, shows the importance of having someone in your life who will stop everything to pray with and for you.
Prayer is a powerful act, not just of faith but of friendship and support. It brings a sense of peace and connection that can be deeply transformative. Watching these women, I felt hope and inspiration. It was a testament to the strength and beauty of human connections grounded in Faith.
In our busy lives, it’s easy to overlook the importance of such moments. But seeing those women, I was reminded that prayer doesn’t have to be done alone; it can be a shared experience that brings comfort, strength, and unity. I hope everyone has a friend who will stand by them, no matter what, and pray for them with such love and devotion.
This morning I walked out of the gym with my friend who fervently prays for me and has brought me closer to God. What I witnessed in the parking lot reminded me why God brings friends into our lives. May we all strive to be that kind of friend, and may we all be blessed with such friends in our lives.
Peace, Love, & Hugs!
Regrets? Oh, I’ve got some. Some are the kind that make you cringe at 2 am, and others are those brutal life lessons that leave a lasting impression (or maybe a scar). But there’s one regret that stands out like a neon sign dead in the night. This one involves a wild night on our Harley Davidson motorcycle, a bottle of vodka, and a tattoo that only a select few know about….until now.
Once upon a time Shawn and I owned a Harley. Yep, I was a biker chick who wore leather boots, a doo rag on my head under my helmet, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, yes, I wore leather biker chaps too. Leather…black….assless chaps. Got a visual yet??? And guess what? Shawn wore the same as I and so did our best friends who also owned a Harley. Thinking back now, I am sure we looked like a small gang riding in and out of our quiet, humble neighborhood while setting off car alarms from the loud pipe sounds coming from our bikes. (No lie, this happened)
One evening while riding with our friends and maybe, a few drinks later, somehow…. our motorcycles led us into a tattoo parlor’s parking lot which just so happened to be the same parlor Shawn went to get tribal flames with my “D” initial tattooed on his upper arm a few weeks prior. There was also a gas station located right across the street that just so happened to sell liquor.
And this is where things took their regretful turn of events.
I was the only one out of our motorcycle gang who didn’t have any ink on my body and for some reason…. this would be the day I decided it was my turn to sport a tattoo somewhere on my body but I was scared it would hurt. At the time, I thought it was a good thing my bestie’s husband realized I was worried because within 10 minutes of us entering he had the solution to calm my fears. Remember the good old gas station I mentioned across the street? It had just what I needed…Vodka!
I am going to spare you some of the drunken details and skip to the next morning when I woke up with a massive headache and a bandage on my body because there is no need to explain how things went from… Hello, Vodka to Goodbye Dignity!
When my eyes opened, my first thought was that I needed something for my headache. And why the hell does my back, my lower back, my very lower back hurt? I rolled over and with my hand, I touched my back only to discover I had something taped to it. I popped out of my bed and ran into our bathroom to look in the mirror. As I turned around to look over my shoulder into our mirror, I had the tattoo parlor flashback from the day before. Nooooo way!! I did NOT! I yanked the bandage off and to my horror, my body was now the owner of a tramp stamp!
If you think things couldn’t be any worse, buckle up because this is where things get worse.
This is when Shawn enters the bathroom with the grin on his face that anyone who knew him, knows the grin I am talking about. Are you freaking serious?? OMG! I have a tramp stamp! And not only do I have a tramp stamp, it is huge! It is ugly! It is colored! It has a red heart with black tribal flames on the sides of it. What do those letters I can’t see in the middle of the heart spell? And through his laughter he proudly informs me… “It says, Shawn.”
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you probably think this is where the story ends. But nooooooo….this is when the story only gets worse!!!
Me: “OMG…. I have been branded like livestock. I can’t let anyone know I have a tat, especially my father! Even though I am 30-something years old, married, and have three children, he would be so mad at me.”
Six months later….
My sister needed surgery and I was the only family member who matched her blood type. So my father met me at the hospital to watch my children in the lobby so I could go upstairs to fill out the papers to donate my blood for my sister’s upcoming surgery. Did you know you cannot donate blood if you get a tattoo within the year you want to donate? Yeah, me neither. I wish I had never checked that regretful little box next to the question asking if I got a tattoo within that year. And guess who had to go downstairs to explain to my father in front of my own children why I was turned away from donating blood? Me! I can happily say my sister did well; her donor obviously didn’t get a tattoo that year. And as for the confession to my father and how he took it? Well after my sister’s surgery was over and until the day he went to be with Jesus we laughed about the day I had to tell him I was a branded cow.
Moral of the story: Some regrets are life’s way of teaching us lessons – like not mixing vodka and decision-making. Others stick with us forever, like a tattoo helping you to never forget because every time you look in the mirror there’s an inky reminder of that one crazy night. Regrets might be a part of life, But Hey…..at least they make for some unforgettable stories.
Have I learned my lesson? Yes!! Who wants to come with me to get my next tattoo with no vodka involved?
Peace, Love, & Hugs!
A very dear friend from high school inspired me to write this. She reminded me of the time I went skydiving a few months after I began my grief journey. To respect her privacy, I won’t mention her name, but I want to thank her for helping me find the words to continue sharing this journey. This post is a continuation of what I wrote about last week, I guess my brain had more to release. So here goes…
When we experience any type of loss, it is an experience that changes us in many ways we might not fully understand at first. It feels as though we’re standing at a crossroads with two hard choices: we can get busy living our lives or get busy dying from the pain of the loss.
When I lost Shawn the immediate aftermath was a period of shock where the depths of my grief felt like I was slowly dying inside. I was overwhelmed by the weight of my grief. During that time, I made a vow to myself: I would live my life the way Shawn lived his, and the way I believed he would want me to live mine.
At first, this vow pushed me into a frenzy of activity. I was determined to check off every item on my bucket list, convinced that living life to the fullest meant doing everything I had ever dreamed of. But as time went on, I realized that this approach was impossible. It was as if life grabbed my hair and pulled me back, forcing me to confront the truth: I couldn’t truly start living until I let go of everything I had been clinging to.
I had to let parts of myself die. The parts that were tied to my old life and the expectations I had before my loss. This process was painful and required me to confront my grief head-on. It was only by shedding these layers of myself that I could begin to understand what it means to truly live.
Living life after a loss is not about ticking off boxes or chasing after every experience. It’s about finding meaning in the everyday moments, embracing the pain, and allowing it to transform us. It’s about building a new life that honors both the memory of our loss and our potential for joy and growth.
Looking back now, I see that my journey through grief was not just about surviving; it was about finding a new way to thrive. By letting go of the past and the things I once held onto so tightly, I made space for new experiences and relationships. I found a renewed sense of purpose and a deeper understanding of what it means to live a full, meaningful life.
If you are experiencing the depths of grief, know it is possible to find your way to the other side. It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen overnight. And hopefully, it won’t take you as long as it took me to realize this. But with time, patience, and a willingness to let go, you can begin to rebuild and find a new path forward- one that honors your past and your future. Grief did not simply vanish over time. Instead, it revisits me sometimes when I least expect it. But rather than resisting these moments, I’ve learned to embrace them. Feeling the grief allows me to heal it. Grief will visit you, but it does not have to consume you. Embrace it, feel it, and allow it to heal you. Grief has been a part of my journey, but I refuse to let it define me.
Remember, you have a choice. You can get busy dying, or you can get busy living. Choose life. Choose to live fully, bravely, and with an open heart.
P.S. I’m ready to go skydiving again. Who’s ready to come with me?
Peace, Love, & Hugs!
Over the past year, I have launched a new journey of learning to let go of what no longer belongs in my life. This process has taught me that releasing control and embracing the flow of life has led me to unexpected growth and freedom. I’ve come to understand that clinging to past experiences, regrets, or fears only slows my progress and prevents me from fully experiencing the present. By letting go I have discovered the importance of surrendering everything to God, trusting in the natural course of life, and the power of resilience. This journey has not been easy, but it has been incredibly rewarding, offering me a sense of peace and clarity I never knew was possible.
Letting go isn’t about forgetting, ignoring, or avoiding the past. It doesn’t leave behind the feelings of anger or regret. Letting go isn’t about winning or losing, it’s not about pride or how it makes me appear. It’s not about blocking the memories or dwelling on sad thoughts. It doesn’t result in emptiness, hurt, or sadness. Letting go is not about loss or defeat. It’s about finding peace and moving forward with a renewed sense of freedom and acceptance.
Letting go is having an open mind and confidence in the future. To let go is to accept, learn, and grow. It is to be thankful for the experiences that made me laugh and made me cry. It’s about all that I have, all that I had, and if it is God’s will, all that I will soon have again. It’s having the courage to accept change, the strength to keep moving forward, and continue growing from my experiences.
By letting go, I have opened a door, cleared a new path, and set myself free by allowing space for new beginnings. It’s realizing that my heart can sometimes be the most potent remedy.
When Was the Last Time You Truly Saw Someone?
They say a smile is a universal symbol of happiness. We often assume that a smiling person is a happy person and that their life must be filled with joy and contentment. But if we stop and look closer, we might realize that a smile can also be a mask, hiding the stories behind the smile.
Have you ever taken the time to truly see someone? Not just to look at their face, but to look deep into their eyes? The eyes are often called the windows to the soul for a reason. They can tell stories that a smile might be concealing. They reveal the depth of a person’s experiences, their joys, sorrows, hopes, fears, and hidden truths.
Some of the most profound truths can be found in looking into someone’s eyes. Sometimes, behind the brightest smiles, you will see shadows of pain, past struggles, and maybe silent cries for help. These are stories that a simple smile cannot tell and appearances can be deceiving.
Think about the last time you truly saw someone. Was it just a glance, or did you take the time to really connect? In our busy lives, we often breeze through interactions, missing the stories that eyes can reveal. Yet, taking a moment to really see someone can make all the difference. It could possibly clear up misunderstandings, offer comfort, and build deeper, more meaningful connections.
So next time you see someone smiling, take an extra moment to look into their eyes. Ask them how they’re really doing and be prepared to listen. You might discover a story that will change the way you see them, and it might even change the way you understand yourself.
Let’s not forget the importance of looking beyond the smile. Let’s cherish the deeper connections we can make when we truly see each other, eyes and all.
When was the last time you truly saw someone? Maybe today is the perfect day to start.
I have been open, honest, and sometimes raw when writing to you. I always promised I would. I knew when I began writing again and chose to share my life, thoughts, and feelings with you, that I would be opening up a place in myself I had closed for about six years when I stopped. A lot has happened in those six years that I stored and never released like I once did when I was writing as the “Journey of the Widowed Diva.” Back then, my therapy was releasing the grieving craziness that my head and my heart were screaming by writing and sharing it with you.
So here we are, I am sharing myself with you once again, but this time my writing isn’t my therapy. My therapy is my therapy. Yup, you read that correctly. I have been in therapy with a licensed therapist for over a year now. And guess what, I am NOT ashamed to share that with you. It has been the bravest thing I have ever done in my life. Therapy ain’t for the weak…. it will dig up sh*t you have buried, ignored, and pushed away for years and years. It makes you face your fears and shows you who you are. Once you unlock what you have been hiding from yourself, there is no more running away from it. It has been brutal and ugly at times, but it has been the most beautiful, eye-opening gift I could have ever given myself.
Now don’t come at me with “But you said to not look back.” and to “move forward” because I know what I’ve preached for over ten years. So here’s the thing…. Yes, the past is the past. But if you don’t go back and fix the things from your past, they will continue to show up in your future. Over and over again. I am also here to let you in on a little something else I’ve learned by going to therapy. It will not help unless YOU are ready to admit to yourself that you are there to fix YOU.
It has helped me build boundaries. It has taught me how and when to say no and recognize when I am at the point of enough and when it’s time to end something that is no longer good for me. It has helped me know what I want and what I do not want. While going to therapy I had to leave a few people behind for me to move forward. But there will be a day I plan on circling back to them and hope they realize I did what I had to do for me. It has also shown me who I do not ever want back in my life and will never allow myself to let them back in. But most of all I now know who truly belongs in my life.
I believe everyone should see a licensed therapist at some point in their lifetime. But only you will know when the time is right for you.
Now here is where the plot twists…..
Although my therapist has helped me more than words can say. I can say without hesitation I am NOT the person I once was, and if it weren’t for my soul sisters who have held me together and cheered me on, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. They have healed a piece of me they didn’t break. It’s no coincidence they are in my life. I am grateful for them.
If it is not the right time for you to seek a licensed therapist, be intentional about creating relationships with those who fill your life with the good stuff. Who somehow just makes you feel better when you’re in their presence. The ones you know deep down that your life is better because they are in it. They truly exist. You will know when you have found them. Search for them.
Picture this… it’s 12/26/2013. The morning after Christmas. I can’t remember if our adult children were either at their place or maybe one or two of them stayed the night and decided to crash out in their childhood bedrooms. The house was quiet. There weren’t any boxes, bows, or toys all over the living room like there once were when they were young. It was just Shawn and I awake that morning. The house felt different than in the previous years. Although neither one of us said anything, it was clear to us that our children were grown and Christmas now looked and felt differently. We didn’t need to say the words, but somehow I could sense we both knew we were walking into a new chapter together. Shawn made coffee from our very basic Mr. Coffee coffee maker using basic coffee grounds purchased from probably Walmart. We sipped coffee from mugs that didn’t match because they weren’t from a set and I am positive they weren’t Christmas-themed. And we were both experiencing a wine-ache, oops… I mean a headache.
I am not sure if it was the caffeine kicking in from our second or maybe third cup of coffee (don’t judge) or if the Tylenol we both slammed down our throats was doing its job but we decided to pop open the computer and started checking out Facebook. Post after post. Picture after picture we saw perfect family photos. Families with matching sweaters. Families with matching pajamas. Families drinking hot chocolate from, you guessed it… matching mugs! Posed pictures with the tall family members in the back, and the short ones in the front. Everyone had smiles on their faces. All wearing Santa hats. No eyes were accidentally closed. No one had food in their mouths. Even their poor dogs had to endure taking family photos with Santa hats shoved on their heads.
So this is when the fun began!
Have I ever mentioned Shawn was a smart ass? And he was as real as real could be. He didn’t have a fake bone in his body. And did I mention I could be an even bigger smart-ass than he was?
Shawn looked at me and asked why didn’t I take family photos to put on Facebook. I replied, “Because you didn’t buy us matching Rudolph sweaters.” He then looked at me and told me I was looking rough. I guess it was because I had on one of his tee shirts, a pair of sweatpants with holes in them, no makeup on, and bags under my eyes. So of course, I had to come back with a “And you look like sh*t.”
This picture was taken four days before I lost Shawn. It was the last picture we ever took together. We posted it on Facebook as a joke. I do not think I have ever shared this photo again and not because it makes me sad. This photo has popped up on my Facebook memories every year since then. I have it saved in my photos on my cell phone and have seen it many times, but never once thought of sharing it. Why? Because we both looked like sh*t. But shame on me… This picture is us. This was us being real. This picture signifies everything Shawn was…. REAL!
Today I am sharing it once again. Not as a joke, but as a reminder for me to KEEP IT REAL. So here goes… #NOFILTER #3rdCUPOFCOFFEE #LIVELIFELIKESHAWNWOULD
As I repeatedly turned each page of one of my granddaughter’s favorite picture books, I watched her tiny finger point to the puppy she saw on each page. Page after page, she looked for the puppy and smiled when she saw it. As she intently studied each page, I wondered what could be going through her mind. She just began learning how to say her first few words. Could her one-year-old mind already create stories while looking at pictures in a book? I watched her excitement each time we began to read the book over and over. I also witnessed how she dealt with her disappointment when we reached the last page and heard me read the words… “The End.” Does she already know she doesn’t like endings?
This led me to wonder if my mind created the story of how I thought my life should be while looking at story books and reading fairy tales as a young child. Don’t all fairy tales begin with a “Once Upon a Time”? And don’t they all end with a “And They Lived Happily Ever After.”? As an adult, I unfortunately know some fairy tales do not end with “And They Lived Happily Ever After.” But I also know some endings are the beginning of a new “Once Upon a Time.”
So why does experiencing any type of an end have to hurt so badly? And why do we keep holding on when something has or needs to come to an end? Dig deep and think about some endings you have experienced. Didn’t every end have a beginning? And every beginning had an end?
Maybe all it takes for us to realize we can change the way we choose to experience an end is simply witnessing how a one-year-old chooses to do so. When your story comes to an end, simply turn the page, and start a new beginning.
This letter is to you.
The you that has had a hard week. The you who seems to be under constant dark clouds. The you that feels invisible. The you who doesn’t know how much longer you can hold on. The you who has lost faith. The you who always blames yourself for everything that goes wrong. The you who feels you have hit rock bottom. The you who is intelligent and totally sane but got labeled crazy because you got too close to figuring out someone else’s bullshit. The you who is trying to do the right thing, trying to stay open and keep going. Trying to hold on. Trying to let go. Trying to find your flow. Trying to stay afloat. Trying to meet each new day. Trying to find your balance. Trying to love yourself. Trying new things and new ways. The you who is wearing that smile, even though last night you barely slept.
To you, you are incredible. You make the world a little bit more wonderful. You have so much potential and so many things left to do. You have time. Better things are coming your way, so please hang in there. You can do it. I think the world of you. The way you stand upright, refusing to fall. The best thing about rock bottom is the rock part. You discovered the solid bit of you. The bit that can’t be broken down further. The thing that you might call a soul. At your lowest, you found the solid ground of your foundation. And that’s where you found your new self.
Now get up and go stand in front of a mirror and read this again and again to the you who needs to believe what they are reading to themselves. Then go take a shower, and wash off your day. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. It’s still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it another day.
I see you. I’m there too. We’re in this together.
So, to the strongest souls I know, to the ones reading this now. When the world throws punches, defend yourself and adjust your crown.
Shout out to everyone who is trying right now. I see you in that mirror. Your crown looks good on you!
Hugs!
This photo popped up in my memories a few days ago. When I look at this photo I see a woman smiling at her husband who was behind the camera. I see a woman who now knows how precious life is and how short it can be. I see a woman who used to think she was overweight but now happily realizes her current extra 10 lbs. is from enjoying life with good food and wine with good friends. I see a woman who has experienced unexplainable pain and loss but is now a badass survivor.
Eleven years ago, the woman in this photo was not the woman I am today. Eleven years ago, I was smiling at my husband not knowing I only had eleven months left with him. Although it was taken eleven years and ten pounds ago, I remember this day like it was yesterday……
I was kidnapped once. It was in January 2013. It was a month that rained almost every day with very little sunshine for weeks. The stressful, rush of the holidays was over, resolutions were made, and the high expectations of the New Year were staring in our faces.
So what did this married couple do when cabin fever set in? Fight.
I think we fought over the television, how one of us was sitting in the other’s favorite spot on the sofa, how he smacked on his food, how I stole the covers, how he left his dirty clothes on the floor, how I gave the dogs more attention than I gave him… It went on and on until one Saturday morning, I had ENOUGH! I couldn’t listen to him bitch about how I bitched about everything, and he couldn’t listen to me bitch how he bitched about everything. So I told him to get out! Leave and don’t come back until I say so. I remember he looked straight into my eyes and told me he was leaving. I couldn’t believe it. I mean I didn’t really mean what I said. He went into our bedroom and started to pack. Really?? So my selfish pride set in and I yelled… GOOD! Leave and don’t come back. When he came out of our room…. three minutes later, he had two small plastic grocery bags packed. I looked at them and said, “You sure do pack light.” He said, I’m leaving and you are coming with me. HUH?? I can’t leave. I’ve got things to do. The house is a mess and I don’t like you! He told me too bad and picked me up and carried me to his truck. I was kicking and screaming but he was not letting me go. He pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the highway. And off we went.
I thought he would turn around and head back home at any moment until he picked up his phone and called our son. He told him to take care of the dogs because we wouldn’t be home. I guess our son asked him where were we going because I heard Shawn say he didn’t know yet. So we drove for miles without talking. I continued to think he would turn around soon because there was no way we could be going away because men don’t know how to pack. We drove and drove in the rainy weather in silence. I saw the Mississippi state line. There was still silence. Then I saw the Alabama state line. I decided I should break the silence and ask where the hell was he taking me. He said we are going to find sunshine.
Somewhere in Alabama, he pulled off to get gas. He came out of the gas station with a cheap bottle of wine and used his key to open it. He had skilled talent and could always find ways to do things like that… He handed the bottle to me and asked if I wanted a sip. Well of course I did. I took a gulp and spit out the pieces of cork that were floating around in it and off we went.
I’m not sure if it was the cheap wine, or the fact my man was determined he was taking me to some place called Sunshine, but as we drove on, the sky started to get brighter. His playlist on the radio got louder, and I became more curious. I decided to look into the grocery bag he packed for me. If I was going away, I needed my stuff. He grabbed the bag and told me to chill out. So I drank some more of my cork and wine…
Next up, the Florida state line and….. sunshine. It was like the sky opened up as his truck entered the Sunshine State. The music was getting better and we saw sunshine for the first time in weeks. And by now, I figured out where he was taking me. To our favorite place where we had escaped to previous times, but never in January and never when we were fighting.
I waited in the truck while he went inside to get us a condo. It was then I finally got a chance to peek into my packed bag. He packed a shirt, a pair of socks, a toothbrush, and a bottle of conditioner. OMG… no shampoo?? No pants? Makeup? Perfume? My moisturizer? How can a girl go out of town without her necessary things? I only had the clothes and makeup I already had on and a grocery bag with not even half of my necessary stuff. I knew there was no turning back, so I took another sip from my bottle of cork, oops, I mean wine.
When we finally got up to our room overlooking the beach, Shawn looked at me and said let’s go for a walk. We poured the rest of the wine into the condo’s provided plastic wine glasses and went for a walk on the deserted beach. We walked and walked. I’ve never seen so many seashells before. I guess not many people go to the beach in January so we could find as many shells as we wanted to.
By this time, I had accepted I was indeed kidnapped. I wasn’t getting away and I couldn’t have been more happy. I looked at him and said…. I remember you. He smiled and said, I remember you. He then picked up his phone and took this picture.
Ten years ago today, on a Sunday night, I sat on our comfortable sofa in our comfortable home across from my husband. Little did I know it would be the last time I would ever have the opportunity again for the rest of my life. I didn’t know I had less than 12 hours of time left to spend with him. I didn’t know the only life I knew was about to change right in front of my eyes and would never be the same. I didn’t know my children were about to lose their father and I was about to become a single parent. I didn’t know I would be sitting on a different sofa in a different home ten years later without him. So I ask you, where are you tonight? Are you sitting on your sofa with someone you love? Can you imagine it could quite possibly be the last 12 hours you will ever be able to spend with them? What would you do or say if you knew you only had 12 hours left? I now know what I would have said to him. I now know life is short and you never know when you will be sitting on a sofa on a Sunday night wishing you could have those last 12 hours to say and do all the things you didn’t say or do because you didn’t know like I didn’t know. Please act like you only have 12 hours left to spend with each other and say and do all those things you think you have the time for. Sending you my love and HUGS to all those who are hurting tonight. ❤️
December 23rd… the day before Christmas Eve. What are you doing today? Running around town shopping for that last-minute gift you forgot to get? Are you in a crowded mall? Sitting in traffic? Getting ready for another Christmas party? Baking cookies? In a grocery store picking up the ingredients for your Christmas dinner? Wrapping presents? Are you trying to figure out why the lights are only working on half the Christmas tree? Are you hoping you remembered everything?
Whatever it is you are doing, I hope you finish soon. I hope you were able to find the gift you needed. I hope you are out of the mall or traffic. I hope you didn’t burn any cookies and you didn’t forget an ingredient for the special dish you make every year. I hope you finished wrapping the presents and you didn’t lose your scissors too many times. I hope tonight is the night you realize it doesn’t matter if the bows don’t match the wrapping paper. I hope you realize no one will know if you didn’t add 1/4 of a teaspoon of the forgotten ingredient to your casserole. Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter if you burn your cookies because some people like crispy cookies. I know… weird, but it’s a real thing.
I hope tonight you take a deep breath and relax. I hope you are with your special someone you love and they love you back. I hope you take a moment to look each other in the eyes and realize your gift is right in front of you.
But most of all, if you are alone, if you are hurting, or grieving any type of loss, if you couldn’t force yourself to feel festive, didn’t shop for presents, bake cookies, or make the dish you made every other year, I hope you realize it’s ok if you didn’t. I hope tonight …. you don’t lose hope.
Merry Christmas from me to you!
P.S. Don’t forget to love harder and HUG longer!
P.S.S. No one cares if only half the tree has working lights. We know why they aren’t. We get it.
I am gonna vomit out the words that have been swirling around in my head for a few days. I hope it all comes together and makes sense in the end. Buckle up. Here goes….
Last week I was doing a little Christmas shopping at the worst place in the world… Walmart. While I was driving there, I had a full-blown conversation with myself. I asked myself… why? Why am I going to torture myself? As I drove into the parking lot I could see the sea of cars. I once again asked, why? But by the grace of God, there was a spot someone had just backed out of so I pulled in. I walked in and the only basket I could find had one wheel that was stuck and the other three squeaked. I thought this was a sign I should just turn and run out. But I figured I made it this far, I should just go for it. So I pushed my squeaky three-wheel basket and ventured into the black abyss of Walmart hell. There were people everywhere. Christmas music blaring in the background. The smell of burnt fried chicken from the deli floating in the air. I could hear the sound of crying babies. It was then I realized even babies hate this place. And it was so freaking hot in there. I wish I could remember how long it took me to find what I was looking for, but for some reason, time goes away once you enter the pit of hell, oops I mean, Walmart. Was I there for 10 minutes or ten hours?? I don’t know. But I managed to find the toy I needed to get for my grandson and a basket full of other crap I threw in as I aimlessly walked around looking for it.
At this point, I am now sweating. Was it because I was in the fires of hell? Was it because I pushed a squeaky three-wheel basket while leaving skid marks on the floor from the stuck fourth wheel? Was it because I now had to decide between standing in the long line at the self-checkout or at a regular checkout with a real human who works behind the cash register? So as the sweat rolled down my back and exhaustion set in, I decided to get in the line behind a young couple in the regular checkout line. I stood in a line that happened to extend back into the clothing section. I also overheard the young couple in front of me bickering with each other. He wanted to know why did she have to be so bitchy about everything and she wanted to know why did he have to be such an a**hole. At this point not only am I sweating and exhausted, I am a little sad. I wanted so badly to step in between them and make them stop. I wanted to tell them they had no idea how lucky to have each other to be able to endure shopping in hell together and they shouldn’t say stuff like that to each other. But I didn’t.
As I stood there pretending to not hear them, I remembered the Christmas shopping adventures Shawn and I once made together. I could only wonder how many people overheard our conversations. I am sure we sounded the same way as the young couple in front of me. And I am positive we were somewhere in line at a Wal-HELL, fighting because he was being an a*hole and I was being a btch. And guess what???
I miss those days too. I miss having someone to fight with in Walmart while pushing a squeaky basket.
Hugs!
Tis the season for Christmas music. I have always loved Christmas music. I think the only song I didn’t like hearing on the radio and couldn’t wait for it to finish was Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas.” And honestly, it’s still one of my least favorite songs. Sorry but not sorry if you’re an Elvis fan. It is what it is. I write it how I feel it… My real jam was “Jingle Bell Rock” and when I would hear those first few tunes pumping out of our station wagon’s speakers, I instantly knew my jam was on! You know those tunes I am describing. I bet you just heard them in your head too.
When I was a child I’d get so bummed on Christmas night because I thought the magical season was coming to an end. I didn’t want to have to wait another year to hear Christmas music. If I could go back in time I’d tell Little Daneen to not be so bummed out. I’d tell her there would be a time when I would not have to hope for the radio DJ to play another Christmas song before I would have to get out of our car. I’d also let her know there will be a radio station that will play nothing but Christmas music starting in mid-November and there will be something called Pandora or Spotify too.
Do I love Christmas music as much as I did as I child? Maybe not as much, but I do like it more now than I did just a few years ago. After I lost Shawn, it was too painful to hear the music that was supposed to remind us how it was the most wonderful time of the year.
So here I am, all grown up getting ready to celebrate my 10th Christmas without him. Yes, some songs still make me sad. No, Jingle Bell Rock is not my jam anymore. But there is one song that makes me feel all the feels. “My Grown Up Christmas List” Have you ever really listened to the words?
“So here’s my lifelong wish
My grown-up Christmas list
Not for myself but for a world in need
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list”
I couldn’t agree more with those words, but I would like to add a
few of my wishes to this list.
“So here’s Daneen’s new lifelong wish.
My grown-up Christmas list
For those who are hurting
May all your “soons” turn into “finally”
May you accept all that was and surrender to what is
And find the courage to walk away from all that is not meant for you
And find peace in walking toward all that is
And if love visits you, may you love harder, love deeper
And believe Christmas time doesn’t have to be the only most wonderful time of the year
This is my grown-up Christmas List”
Oh yeah, and one more….may all your hugs be tighter and last longer.
Hugs!
Is it because since their childhood they have been expected to be tough? Is it because showing their emotions would be a sign of weakness? Is it because they don’t want others to know they feel pain? Is it because sometime in their lifetime, they heard the words… Suck it up and be a man?
I am here today to let you in on a little secret. Men grieve too.
Men experience pain after different types of losses. They feel the loss from death, divorce, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, or maybe a pet. And if they lose their wife to death, they get labeled a miserable, unwanted title too. They become a widower who feels the pain and devastation. They also feel the loneliness that comes with their new title.
Men are also forced to walk away from the only life they once knew after a loss and must begin the unknown new life they never asked for. Men must quickly make decisions while trying to grasp what has happened to them. Learn new household duties they once didn’t have to do. And some become single parents who now must raise children alone or share custody.
Unfortunately, men walk through their grief journey silently. But why? They hurt too.
In one of my first writings, I mentioned the different types of loss and how it causes grief and pain. At the time I also promised I would be honest and raw when I write to you. I feel it is time I dig a little deeper. It’s time I share the type of loss I feel is the most brutal of all.
Betrayal.
It’s crazy, but just saying, writing, or hearing the word… betrayal…makes me sick to my stomach.
I feel being betrayed is the deepest, most painful loss anyone can experience. It is gut-wrenching and cuts you like a knife. When you find out you have been betrayed it is as shocking as if someone you love unexpectedly loses their life. But worse. Yes, you read that correctly.
There are many different ways you can be betrayed. And let’s be real, there is no reason for me to explain the different ways you can be because if you have experienced it, you already know. But why does it hurt so badly when it happens to you? And how could the pain feel worse than the death of a loved one?
Well here goes…
When someone we love passes away, it breaks our hearts. We feel pain. We are never the same as we once were. Our future or the picture in our heads of how we thought our future was supposed to be will never be. When we lose someone from death, we grieve what was and what was supposed to be. We grieve the person we once were.
Loss from betrayal and death are both shocking and painful. Both take a piece of you that you will never get back. You will never be the same person. Both knock you to your knees. When we have been betrayed, it is from someone who is still here and who we trusted. They stole the future you had thought was supposed to be. And somehow now, you must continue living while grieving the future someone intentionally stole from you.
However, I am here to say that there will come a day when you will peel yourself off the floor. And that will be the day you will begin your journey to healing.
Will you ever be the same person? Let me ask you…Do you really want to be that person anymore? I hope not. I hope once you get through the shock of the death of the future you pictured in your head, you come back swinging. And as much as you may want to swing at the a**hole who stole your future and your trust, I hope you don’t.
Betrayal is brutal. But what’s even more brutal is letting them watch YOU move forward with your life, stronger and wiser. Please kiss the picture you once held in your head goodbye, and paint a more colorful one for yourself.
What do the death of a loved one and the death from betrayal have in common? There will be a glorious day when we will be reunited with our loved ones. And there will be the glorious day when you run into your betrayer and they get to see the new wiser you!
Get off the floor, dry those tears, put the ice cream down, and get yourself back into the gym. Learn something new, go to church, enroll in a class, and get yourself into therapy. Do whatever you need to do because your day of redemption will happen. And when it does, you will be so thankful you didn’t take that first swing at them because it hits them harder seeing you living the colorful future you painted for yourself.
Hugs!!
I can remember the morning I woke up and realized I had run out of coffee the day before. It was a Sunday. It was weeks into my grief journey. The people who at first surrounded me 24/7 were slowly drifting back into their own busy lives but continued to hover through phone calls or text messages.
Them: “Do you need anything?” Me: “No thank you, I don’t need anything.”
This was around the time reality was beginning to slap me in the face. It was the time I knew I needed to try to start peeling myself from the sofa I had spent every single day sitting on and needed to start getting out of the house. I remember when I made the pot of coffee the day before using the last of the coffee grounds, I told myself it would be the day I would finally get out. But grief had different plans for me on that Saturday. Grief decided to sucker-punch me and I could not pull myself off of the sofa. I could not leave the house. Grief has a sneaky way of showing up at any given moment and ruining any goals, big or small, you may have made for yourself.
All I needed to do was pick up my phone and send out a group text message to let someone know I needed coffee. I knew once I sent out my call for help, I would end up with enough coffee to last me a lifetime from those who desperately wanted to do something for me. But I also knew it would mean someone would want to come over to the house to drop it off and probably would want to stay and talk.
I did not send out a cry for help. Instead, I continued to lie to myself. I continued to tell myself I would get dressed and just quickly run to the grocery later in the day when I would feel better.
Well, later on never happened to me. The longer my day went on, the longer the extreme wave of grief I was experiencing went on, and the weaker I became. I was stressing about getting dressed to go to the grocery store. I had made a goal for myself but couldn’t do it. And as crazy as this sounds, the simple thought of sending a text message was too much of an effort for me to make. This wasn’t because I was too prideful to ask for help, it was because I was completely exhausted from my day of stressful grief while sitting on my stupid sofa. So I did what I had previously done for weeks. I made another goal for myself. I promised I would get up first thing the next morning to go get the coffee. I then took a pill I had been prescribed to help me sleep and put myself into a coma.
Sunday morning…. my eyes open, and I roll out of bed. As I walked through our living room heading to the kitchen to make coffee, you guessed it….. I realized the promise I made the night before was about to become another failed goal. But then something made me look at our front door, and through the glass, I could see something sitting on our front porch. My first thought was, Oh Lord… please not another plant or casserole. My prayer was answered. It was…coffee!!! It was a half-gallon of hot coffee from Starbucks with cups, creamer, sugar, and sweeteners. My eyes couldn’t believe it.
It must be the pill I took the night before. I must be sleepwalking and dreaming this. But I wasn’t. To this day, I have no idea who got up on a Sunday morning to drop off something I will never forget and will forever be grateful for. It might just be coffee to you, but it was a true-answered prayer for me. It was the warmest “hug-in-a-cup” I’ve ever received!
You’re probably bored with my coffee story. So I will finally get to my point.
Don’t ask. Just do it.
When someone is going through a hard time in their life, please don’t ask what can you do for them. Don’t ask if they need anything. Just do it.
Go to the grocery, go cut their grass, pick up their mail. Do whatever your heart tells you to do. Just don’t ask them. And for the love of God, don’t ring the doorbell and wait for them to answer. Drop it off and leave. They will be grateful for the toilet paper you thought they needed.
Please don’t make someone pull themselves off the sofa to open the door to have a conversation. They are exhausted. They need quiet time.
They need coffee.
What do I do now? This is a question I’ve asked myself more times than I can count. I am sure it’s a question you have asked yourself many times too.
I can remember asking this question moments after I lost Shawn. “What do I do now?” The answer I received wasn’t what I was expecting. I think what I meant to ask at the time was, How do I live life without Shawn now? Or, How do I do life now? How do I continue now? But I didn’t use those exact words. However, I did receive an answer to my question of what to do NOW that dreadful morning from the police officer who was standing in our living room, “You need to call your family.” So I did.
I then asked my family the same question once they arrived at our home shortly after they received my call. Once again, I received another immediate answer I wasn’t expecting. “You need to call the funeral home and start making arrangements.” So I did.
I listened and did what I was told because I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I needed to do something. And honestly, now that I think of it, this was probably one of the first times I followed someone’s directions. If you knew that Daneen, you knew she had a head like a brick. She followed her own rules and needed to be in control at all times.
This is also a question people ask themselves when they know someone who is experiencing a painful loss. What do I do now? Should I bake and send them a chicken broccoli-cheese casserole? Send flowers and a card? Say you are praying for them?? Should I call the pharmacy? And how strong can the prescription be?
For many years I questioned myself if I packed up Shawn’s clothing too quickly, if I sold our home too soon, or if I jumped too fast with my decision-making because of the unexpected answers to my NOW question I received moments after my loss. Believe me, I am not blaming them. They didn’t know what to say or do. They simply answered my question.
I feel the first words spoken shortly after Shawn’s death are the ones I remember the most because my brain hadn’t processed the event yet. My eyes and ears were absorbing everything around me. Also, I am positive the horse tranquilizers, oops, I mean, the prescription I overheard family members whispering about hadn’t arrived yet.
Here I am, almost ten years later, and guess what…. although I have experienced all of the above and more, I struggle with what to do or say to someone who is experiencing a devasting loss. But what I struggle with most of all is not holding back my true words when I am asked “What do I do now.”
So what should you do or say to someone who is going through a painful event is the real question here.
I do not have all the answers and I so wish I did. But I truly feel sometimes in life there are just no words to be spoken. Your presence is louder than words. But when we do ask questions your words and actions should be chosen carefully, but NOT sugarcoated. Tell us what we NEED to hear, not what you think we should hear. And if you haven’t experienced your devasting moment yet, please stay silent. Believe me, although we are in shock or in a medicated fog, we hear your inexperienced words. And please for the love of God, don’t shoot those emoji-praying hands on Facebook unless you truly mean you really are praying.
This may sound harsh to some, but these are the true words I say to someone who is in pain.
I am so sorry for your pain. I am so sorry you have to go through this. I will fiercely continue to pray for you and all of the surviving family members and ask God to please help you seek a purpose for your pain, and not let the pain be your purpose. You will never move on, but there will come a day when you will begin to move forward. You will make mistakes. You will stumble. This will hurt like hell, but you will get through this. People will surround you but eventually, they will return back to their lives, and that is when the real grief kicks in. It is when reality sets in. But guess what, that is when I will be there for you. But in the meantime, you have to feel this to heal this. And no one can fix you. You have to be the one to pull yourself together and realize you have a second chance at life to be better than the person you once were.
Because my friend, you will never be the same person you once were.
Those who know me, know I write what needs to be released from my brain and heart. For over a week, I have been holding off on posting something I wrote a few weeks ago. I heard the words in my brain, but obviously, it didn’t feel right in my heart to release it yet. I don’t know why and there is no rhyme or reason to it. But I finally learned to listen to both. And if something doesn’t feel right with one of them, then I don’t do it.
And then it happened… last night….in the middle of the night, more words woke me up. Why does it have to happen then? I have no idea, but that’s when they start screaming in my head and my heart starts questioning why.
Below are the words I heard and the questions from my heart. Maybe this will resonate with you, maybe it won’t. But here goes the release and I pray I can get some sleep tonight.
I believe everyone will have a pivotal moment in their lifetime, which will forever change them for the better. It’s the moment you will never be prepared for. So why do we have to be blindsided or sucker punched by this moment to be forever changed?
It really is the little things in life that matter. I didn’t know how much they mattered until they were gone. Why do we have to lose them to realize this?
I believe everyone has a different view and opinion of what means the most to them. And what is important to them, might not mean one iota to someone else. Why do we judge someone by what they view or feel?
I believe in giving someone a chance. I also believe in giving second chances when you truly care, love, and believe in someone even if they have hurt you. But why does it have to take so long and how many chances before we say… Enough, I am worth more than this?
I feel there are two types of love and ways to love someone. You can either love someone or you can be in love with someone. Loving someone is great. But love is a completely different feeling when you are in love with someone. I wonder why some people settle for just love.
I believe we all try to ignore our injured inner child but it always has a way of sneaking back into our adult lives. It’s the hardest part of ourselves to let go. Why do we continue to let our ego control us by not letting go of the past?
And this is what both my brain and heart feel:
My pivotal moment has made me who I am today. I am the kind of girl whose loss made me appreciate the little things in life. A girl who struggles with judging others’ opinions, but now has the ability to recognize I do. I am a girl who gives countless chances but when I’m at enough, I am at enough. I also believe without a doubt life is too short to settle for love only. And last but not least, I also believe we should all slap our inner child and tell it to get the hell over it. The past is the past. It is behind you. You can’t change it, but you can learn from it.
And here is something for you to think about tonight while I hopefully sleep… What was your pivotal moment?
Good night world. Hugs!.
How many times have you heard someone say the first year is the hardest?
Do you think someone once told them when they were entering college or leaving home for the first time? Or was it from someone giving them advice on their wedding day? Or maybe when they had their first baby. Or when someone lost a loved one? Were they just repeating the words of advice they once were told by someone, too?
Shawn and I both didn’t go to college so I can’t comment on that, but I do feel the first year our children went away to college was hard on us. It felt like a piece of us was missing. But honestly, we quickly adapted because we saw how they adapted to college life.
I don’t know about you, but the first year of our marriage wasn’t the hardest either, it was years later when we had three babies all under the age of four. When two of our children had braces and the minute I had the orthodontist paid off, the third child needed them. Or when we had three teenagers who were all old enough to drive at the same time. You get where I am going with this.
And then when I lost Shawn I heard the same words I had been previously told. “The first year will be the hardest.” I so wish I had the brain power at the time to think back to all of the times I heard it and remembered the first year wasn’t always the hardest.
I can remember the first year like it was yesterday…..
I prepared myself for every holiday like a freight train was rolling my way. And after getting through each dreaded one, I thought I could check it off of my grief list so I could be done with it. I was wrong and so was everyone else who told me it would be my hardest.
The first year wasn’t my hardest. It was my second, third, fourth….
I want to let you in on a little secret about widows and widowers. We appreciate the advice from you. We appreciate you holding our hands through the first year and holidays. But we have many, many more firsts you aren’t aware of. So just because we got through the holidays, doesn’t mean we are through the hardest part.
I am going to share just a few of my earlier hard firsts which may seem very trivial to you, but at the time, it felt like I was hit by the 1st-holiday freight train I was told to prepare for.
Garbage pick-up day. A few days after losing Shawn, my youngest daughter (aka Baby Bird) and I didn’t know what day to put the trash out for garbage collection. She had to call a neighbor to ask.
The first meal I ate alone. I went from being a daughter, wife, and mother, then to a widow. I had never eaten one meal alone my entire life until the day I ate the loneliest peanut butter and jelly sandwich in our quiet kitchen.
The day I ran out of my favorite perfume. It was one of those gifts Shawn always gave me I took for granted until I was out.
The day my mail was addressed to Ms., not Mrs.
When I tried to put on my own necklace. Or when I had to figure out a way to zip up my dress with a back zipper and then later figure out how to take it off.
When I had to say goodbye and give my mother-in-law and then my father-in-law one last kiss before they entered Heaven without Shawn standing next to me.
All of the tough decisions I had to make about his funeral arrangements. our businesses, insurance, and our home.
The first time I got a flat tire. When I had to figure out what a deductible was.
The list can go on and on. What I am trying to explain here is it’s not over once the funeral is over, the flowers are dead, the casseroles are all eaten, and the first holidays are over.
And guess what, I am still to this day experiencing them. Do they knock me to my knees like they once did? Not really, but they still sting.
Now stay with me here because this story is taking a turn. Here’s the part I hope I can bring some light to if you’re the one who is experiencing firsts.
There will be many more beautiful firsts than there are dreaded firsts. But it’s up to YOU to see them, to witness and experience them, to find them, to ask for them. To want them.
We experienced a loss and were forced to face many firsts we never asked for, but because we have, we can seek beautiful new ones now. Why? Because we have experienced the unexplainable. We now have the wisdom to know what we do or don’t want to bring into our second first life while creating the life WE want.
I hope today is the day you realize you have been given a second chance to live another first life that was created by YOU!
I’m sending big HUGS to those who are experiencing the dreaded firsts. Cheers to all who are experiencing beautiful firsts with newfound wisdom. And sending my love to those who see us while continuing to hold our hands while we do so.
Have you ever found yourself wondering, “How could something like this happen to me?” or “Why does it have to hurt so badly?” Maybe even, “What did I ever do to deserve this?” I’m pretty sure you have.
Would you believe me if I told you that within every painful experience, gifts are waiting to be found?
Now, depending on where you are in your grief journey, you might have stopped reading right there. I truly understand. In my early days of my own grief, if someone had said that to me (and maybe they did), I would’ve shut down completely. The idea that anything good could come from pain would’ve felt impossible.
If that’s where you are right now. I get it. I can almost hear your eyes roll. Maybe you’re not ready to hear this yet, and that’s okay. Come back when you are, because my journey isn’t over either.
My story isn’t only about me losing Shawn. I’ve faced other forms of loss, too, not all through death, but through the many twists and turns life brings. As I’ve written before, grief comes in all forms, and it all hurts. But through those painful experiences, I’ve felt emotions deeper than I ever thought possible. And strangely enough, I’ve come to see that as a gift. One of the unexpected gifts my pain has given.
When we experience a loss that shakes our world, I believe we have two choices.
The first is to stay in this “safe” place. The place we run to when the pain feels too heavy to bear. It’s the space filled with hurt, sadness, loneliness, betrayal, anger, fear, guilt, and sometimes even shame, depending on the nature of the loss. This is where we first come face-to-face with grief. We realize that the picture we once held of how life was supposed to be will never look that way again. Some people choose to stay here, and that’s okay. This is your journey, your story, and no one else gets to decide how long you should or shouldn’t remain in that space.
The second choice is to open your heart and receive the gifts that loss can bring. To acknowledge them, welcome them in, and let them begin to guide you toward healing. This is the place where you discover the gift of a second chance at life. It’s where you begin to understand that the pain of the first place was necessary because without feeling that depth of heartbreak, you wouldn’t recognize what healing truly feels like. Here, you realize you can’t do it alone. Here, you let God meet you in your brokenness, and in that surrender, you begin to see that sadness can be sacred. It becomes the first step toward healing, the quiet acceptance of what is gone, and the gentle opening to what can still be.
Happiness doesn’t come from avoiding pain; it comes from our willingness to feel. To allow every emotion to surface and to keep following the quiet pull of our heart’s desires.
Desire is born when we are vulnerable enough to let the right people in, when we face life on life’s terms, and when we finally surrender the need to be in control.
It’s in that surrender that we begin to see how God can take even our deepest pain and turn it into something good. Something that brings light not only into our lives, but to the lives of others, if we simply choose to let Him in.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
A few days ago, I read a Facebook post by someone who had experienced a loss. By her words, I could tell she was still in the very beginning stages of her grief journey. Her words reminded me of when I was at the beginning of mine, and how I would pour my heart out there because I needed to release the pain I was feeling, too. I read the comments from her family and friends who were commenting on her post, just as mine had done for me. And while reading the comments, I knew the people who had already experienced a loss like hers. And…I also knew by the words of the others who haven’t.
Now, don’t come at me and call me a judgmental social media grief police officer, because I am not. And I am not a grief expert either. All I am trying to explain is how her words and some of those comments brought me back to that time of my life….. the very beginning of my journey… which made me begin to start thinking deeper again.
In my beginning, I cannot remember if someone had told me or I had read that there would be stages of grief I would experience. I remembered questioning if or what stage of grief I was experiencing because I wanted to quickly get through each one. Almost like I was in a race, running as fast as I could so I could cross the pain line and finally be done with my grief race.
What I didn’t know at the time is that you can’t rush grief. And as much as I tried to make it go away, it always had a sneaky way of blindsiding me when I least expected it. I can’t speak for others, but for me, grief usually snuck up on me while I was around people who loved and only wanted the best for me. But they, too, were in a race. They were in a race to make me better. To make my pain go away. To hurry and get the Daneen they once knew back. They unknowingly tried to fix me.
Why?
Because it hurts when someone you love and care about is hurting. It is very hard to watch someone experience pain. So what do we do? We try to fix them.
But here’s the thing about someone who is grieving. You cannot fix them. And guess what, we don’t want you to. Grief is not a disease. We are not sick. We are not contagious. You can’t catch it from us. So please don’t try to rush and fix us.
Let us be. Let us feel the pain. We have to feel it to heal it. We just need you to be…
All wounds hurt, and they take time to heal. And no two wounds are the same. Wounds heal in time. And none of them has an exact healing time. Some heal faster than others. And some take years to get better. So does grief.
Give us time. We are aware of how life moves on. We see it and know it. We see you moving on with your daily life while we try our damndest to try and hold on to what we once had. But there will come a time when we are ready for our painful wound to heal. And this is when we know it is time to not move on but to begin to move forward. And just like wounds, we don’t have an exact time when we will be ready. But when we are, we just hope you haven’t moved too far on, and you will still…. be…here for us.
Peace, Love, and HUGS!
The thing about heartbreak is that it never really makes sense.
What I’ve learned through years of living, searching, and simply being human is that sometimes tragedy has no reason at all. Bad things happen not because we deserve them or because there’s a lesson waiting right away, but simply because we are human beings having a human experience. Pain, heartache, grief, loss, illness, and death are all part of that experience. Sometimes there’s no explanation beyond the fact that pain is woven into the process of being alive.
We all struggle. We all suffer. A loss is a loss no matter who you are or what form it takes. No one person’s grief outweighs another’s. We all hurt, we all bleed but what truly matters is what we do with that hurt. How we respond to tragedy is what gives our pain purpose.
A broken heart, I believe, is the deepest pain a human can endure. It strikes when we least expect it, and no amount of preparation can soften the blow. But here’s the thing about a broken heart…it does heal. And when it does, it’s never quite the same. Your mended heart becomes something new: softer in some places, stronger in others. It remembers the pain it carried, but it also learns to love more deeply. A healed heart seeks out others who have known pain and helps them heal too, passing along the love it has rediscovered.
Heartbreak isn’t just an ending, it’s an awakening. It shakes you, opens your eyes, and reminds you of your worth. It frees you from what you were settling for and shapes you into someone you might never have become without the pain.
Because in the end, every heartbreak, every tragedy, every ending
is really just the beginning of something new.
Peace, Love, and Hugs!
© God, a Blonde, and a Bottle of Wine