Lately, I’ve been able to reintroduce habits that I had long forgotten; habits that work for me; that make me happy.

It’s the first of the year. I’ve never been big on resolutions. They feel loud, performative—like promises made before listening.

The space between Christmas and the New Year has always felt different to me.

For a long time, I believed that finding my place meant arriving somewhere; - physically, emotionally, spiritually - and knowing, without question, that I belonged.

We are in the midst of the holiday season. For me, life is simple again this year.

The holidays are painted as a time of joy, connection, family dinners, and warm living rooms filled with laughter. But that is not the season I know.

The holidays are here—ushering in the familiar rush of calendars, family gatherings, late-night wrapping sessions, and houses transformed into twinkling reflections of cheer.

Healing often arrives quietly—like sunlight through the pine trees or the soft wind vibrating the strings on my harp.

Growing up in a home built on privacy teaches deep silence—and sometimes, self-erasure.

Here I sit, the day before escrow is set to close on the sale of my house.

It’s that time of year again — when I roll up my sleeve and prepare for my annual vaccines.

I love to walk.

I have been on a journey to find myself again.

I am a systems thinker and a cyclical thinker.

My house is in escrow.

I have a fairly new car that I leased in 2024. It’s a long story how I came to lease a car—it’s not something I love to do, but it is what it is.

Selling a home in today’s market can test anyone’s resilience.

I have never been one to just sit around and chit-chat about life’s happenings.

As I sit in bed this morning and write this blog, it is my hope that I can process all the places my subconscious went to as I slept last night.

Well, let’s take care of the frustration first…my house is still for sale.