It’s amazing the treasures that exist all around us in the everyday, if only we’re open to seeing them. A unique rock, a red squirrel’s tail, a raven’s claw, an eagle’s feather,  butterfly wings. Oh how they sparkle and shine, soft against the palm of your hand, little pieces of hope brought to life when received with love. Finding meaning in numbers. Reaching out for a warm hand or a long embrace that lets you know everything’s gonna be okay. That long, hard look in the mirror where your gaze softens from the first things you see that disappoint and upset you to look past that where you see yourself on the inside. And you realize the person looking back at you has been doing their best all along and perhaps it’s time to give them a little grace and show them the same love you feel in everything around you.

Life’s funny that way. I came here to write about change, to find that I already had, exactly one month and one day ago today. I meant to write last night which would have been exactly one month later, but I got sidetracked with a friend and a hurt owl, and another friend who it’d been far too long since we’d had a chance to catch up.

So I sat down this morning at my desk and went to write about change to realize, it was already written. I reread the words I wrote as if they were new, or written by someone else, someone I didn’t know or never had met, sharing their wisdom with me now, here, today. Only those words were mine and I already left myself the message I knew I’d need a month later.

Oh how much has changed in just one month! How much farther along I am in loving myself and finding my purpose, and accepting all the beautiful little things this world has to offer wrapped in hope and courage and faith. The sky is filled with haze from wildfires, the smell of smoke permeating everything, and the summer air too heavy and warm to allow for closed windows, and as such the only escape is into the forest. The trees clear the air better there, breathing in the smoke and somehow in nature’s own way of magic, turn it into something breathable and safe, nourishing, and rich. Abundance is everywhere.

It is in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the ground we walk upon. It’s in the ravens above us who keep watch over the property in exchange for trinkets and food. It’s in the dogs who stand guard (even when they’re barking at nothing in the wrong direction). The family of foxes who hunt the plentiful rabbits who benefit from the proximity to the horse feed, and the horses themselves who dine on hay and much on fresh grass and clover, unbothered by the weight of the world or the change moving in all around them.

There is meaning to be found anywhere you look, if you’re willing to see it. There is a purpose to all of us, and a place we belong but you’ll never find it until you can look in the mirror and meet yourself with grace and honesty and then turn around and look and see that Change and Hope have been standing beside you all along.

Go. Take a walk with them. I know I am. You can find me back in the woods, wandering the forest like the little wild thing I am, happiest among the animals and the trees and the sounds of nature. Perhaps I’ll befriend a bobcat next, or an orphaned coyote that my dogs happen across that they mistake for a friend. Maybe that juvenile black bear will become bold again and my dogs will light up at the idea of a furry new friend or thing to chase – they aren’t sure which but they’ll make enough noise that even an adult bear wouldn’t stick around. And I’ll laugh and Astrid will bring a mouse into the bedroom in the middle of the night as a gift to remind anyone who feels unworthy that they, too, are loved. No matter if mice isn’t quite your choice of a “gift”, she’ll bring it to you, or me, or the dogs or whomever needs that little reminder. Abundance is everywhere. You only need to accept it within yourself to see it all around you.

Breathe. Believe. Change is here, and she’s not waiting any longer.

If you’ve ever watched wild animals smell change on the wind, you know exactly what I am talking about. When they lift their noses and squint their eyes, focused on whatever scent is carried on the breeze, sniffing to discern the usual scents from anything else that it may be carrying in. That wind that’s different, more than a breeze, arriving just after the storm rather than ahead of or with it. Stronger, somehow, although the storm has already passed, this wind is different. It brings change, and if you listen like the woodland creatures and wildlife, you can smell it, too.

This morning, Change rolled in with the wind, leading it this time, not wanting to be left behind. After the storms of last night pounded the mountain with a deluge of rain and lightning and their own winds, Change arrived, blowing hard in moments, softly in others. It twirled around branches and whispered through the leaves, “move, dance, sing.” The wind resonated around the chimes on the porch, asking them, “play, ring, sing.” The horses lifted their heads up from grazing and snorted, a doe in the distance snorted back, and Change kept coming. I took my coffee out on the porch and sat on the porch swing with the animals in greeting.

Change. A close friend to Karma. They work together, those two, like sisters. One bringing opportunities to grow, the other coming with consequences of our choices to remind us what our soul needs is always more important than anything this world tries to tell you. Listen to them. They are wise sisters, and have been guiding us for lifetimes.

I’d say change smells different this time, but that’s not entirely true. I think what is more true is that I sense more these days, and am more willing to listen and be pushed through discomfort to whatever lies ahead. I know now that the only way forward is through, and the only way through is with honesty and integrity, and the only way to arrive is to live. So I am living differently these days, and it’s amazing.

I’ve had a few people try me, test my boundaries, and then gaslight me claiming I owed them an apology that they were hurt by my actions – holding my boundaries and staying true to my values which I have clearly communicated from the first day we met. I will not compromise my values to accommodate your discomfort, in situations you created to feed your ego and fill the holes in your soul. I am sorry you are hurting, but it’s not my job to fix you and it is definitely not my place nor my job to absorb your venom to make you feel big and strong.

I don’t drink poison, and I’ve learned not to serve it, either. That’s Karma’s job. I am here to listen to Change, open my eyes to who is around me, and open my heart to what lies ahead. What lies ahead starts within. What Change brings depends on what debt you owe. Karma knows, arriving at just the right time, one neither you nor I can control, no mater what we tell ourselves or how hard we try. Control, like stagnation, is an illusion. There is no standing still, the only constant is Change, whether she arrives on the winds or slides silently in with the sunrise. She may come with the storm, through the stars as they break through the clouds as the sky clears, or even in the most minuscule movement found in the blades of grass as they grow stretching up towards the sun that feeds them.

Today, I smelled her on the wind. She reminded me that she is coming, but also always here. She shared warnings of things to come, and reminds all of us that it is up to us to choose where we go from here. Everything is a choice. Hurting others isn’t winning, it’s a choice that also actively hurts yourself. Blaming others for your choices won’t get you any farther than hurling insults at me, or arguing against your soul that your vitriol is justified – it is not, but it is not my place to show you. That is your own lesson to learn and I need not stand around to bear witness. There is no benefit to me in having you in my life, and so I am rather liberal with the block button these days, even though my life online is public. Not because I have anything to hide. But because I have all the love in my life to protect and protect it I will, with all of my being.

I protect those I love, who stand by me, and who stay true to themselves. Raw honesty is hard, but it’s hardest in the mirror. So often we are willing and able to see what is around us but blind by what is inside. Close your eyes. Open your heart. Breathe in the wind – Change is here, and she is not waiting for what lies within.

That’s the funny thing, about being a Fire Dragon (Chinese Zodiac). If there’s anything we’re good at, it’s burning things down when they need, and sometimes, especially in my youth, even when they didn’t. I like to think that I am older and wiser these days, and I know I am, and so I hold this power close, careful to only use it when absolutely necessary.

Right now, it’s absolutely necessary.

I’m not sure what, exactly, happened to make things this volatile right now but it seems like the whole world has gone crazy. Ultimatums abound, from work situations to life situations, friends to significant others, governments to nations and back again. It seems that everyone is fighting something, and half the time they aren’t even sure what they’re fighting for or why. They’re just fighting. And rather than stop, breathe, think, and most importantly FEEL what they are feeling, they fight through it anyway. Yet we wonder why we have a society riddled with struggle and anger, school shootings, neighbors against neighbors, and live in a world where modern conveniences are no longer used to free up time for humans to make the world a better place. No. They’re expected. Entitled even, to these conveniences to make free time to use on themselves, selfishly. Not for growth. Not for change. Not for positivity.

For control. For power. For sense of self. For vanity. For superficiality. From fear.

We tell men that vulnerability is stupid. Don’t cry. Man up. Be stronger. Do better. Then when they open up their hearts and their souls, we laugh. Tell them they’re weak. They’re useless. They need to do more. Protect your daughters. Don’t tolerate less than the best. And then we wonder why they’re filled with violence and rage. With no outlet to FEEL, how can they be anything but poisoned from the inside out, from poison they’re given from society from the day they take their first breath. Boys will be boys. Men will be men.

Girls will be girls. Don’t throw like a girl. Run like a girl. Pretty good for a girl. Be quiet. Be polite. Don’t make people uncomfortable. Shrink to fit here. Don’t outshine others. Be pretty. Be skinny. Be smart. Be funny. Not too smart. Not too funny. You can cry. But not too much otherwise that’s annoying. Fix your makeup. Look up. Wear a padded bra. That bikini looks good. Let me make lewd comments because I am a man and I am allowed.

All of these things have happened in some way around me in the past few weeks alone. At times, it feels exhausting. And then I remember, I am not alone. And I am a Fire Dragon.

Burn. It. Down.

So, when someone lied to my face, repeatedly, despite my best efforts to show the path forward through light and love – I blocked them.

So, when someone made disgusting sexual comments to me about a photo of me – I blocked them.

So, when someone abandoned my friend in time of need – I stayed.

When everyone else left, I stayed standing right here. Fire doesn’t scare me. I’ve been burned at the stake before. You can’t kill me that way this life. Not this time. There’s no one on this planet who can tell me what to do, or who to be, or how to live, but me. There are no “I can” or “I can’t”s in this life. Only choices. I choose to live by mine. They’re not always the right ones, and I am always learning and growing. But they’re mine and no one else’s and there’s a beauty and a responsibility and an autonomy in that which most people lack these days. I have it in spades.

Courage. Conviction. Compassion. Honesty. Integrity. Authenticity.

That doesn’t mean that anyone anywhere gets to ask me anything and I owe them answers. It means that when I do speak, it’s with honesty and compassion from the heart. And when I make mistakes I own them. It means what I say to one person, I would say to any person, and always always to that person’s face – if I am ever speaking about someone. Otherwise, don’t say it.

If you don’t want other people to know your actions, the easiest thing to do is simply not do them. If you’re not proud of who you are, or have been (and who hasn’t been??? I certainly had a lot of atoning to do over the years…), then change. What’s stopping you? Fear?

Ahh, there it is again. Fear. The same thing that tricks people into thinking they can control someone (they can’t, control is an illusion). The same thing that makes people tear someone down they claim to love, while screaming they want their time and attention and to be the person that they turn to in confidence when things are hard – and in the very same day abandon that person they claim to love to figure it out on their own.

Spoiler alert: that isn’t love. That’s toxicity. Don’t worry. I’ll burn it down from here. Us Fire Dragons don’t tolerate much when it comes to that stuff. If at all. Chances were given, and lies were told. Time for those bridges to burn, and burning they are.

How DARE you claim to love someone and abandon them at the same time. I grew up with that. With a father who loved me, but abused me. A mother who coddled us but couldn’t stand up to our father during the lifetime of abuse. He did his best to turn my siblings against me – and without fully realizing it, I played into it and made things worse. It wasn’t until after he died that I truly reconciled with them in a way I haven’t known the entire rest of my life. Abandonment hurts, not just once, not just that one time, that day you got mad then left, that day you said I love you but I have to go, no. It hurts every single day because it makes you question your reality.

Was I wrong? Am I worth it? Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am too much. Maybe I am too loud. Maybe I didn’t do things the right way. I made mistakes. Maybe I deserve this.

You do not deserve this. No one does. We all deserve to be loved, and seen for who we are, on the inside 💙

Find people who love you for who you are. I was sitting with one of my best friends the other evening and we marveled at how, with the group of us (and it’s a pretty random group haha) we’re all weird and quirky in our own way. We’re all VERY different, from lifestyles to hobbies to work and everything in between. Yet, even when there are aspects of each others’ lives that we don’t necessarily agree with, we all accept each other. We all know that we’re there for each other unconditionally, no matter what. We don’t abandon each other, ever, and we’ve been through some pretty heavy life shit together. True friends – true soul clusters / families / whatever you want to call it – that come together time after time and life after life, never abandoned those they love.

We all deserve love, safety, and comfort. And if you’re not quite sure how to find that, or you’re not sure the people around you truly love you for you, you’re with the wrong people. Close your eyes. Listen to your heart. Follow your soul. Quiet the noise, the busyness, the distractions. Stop everything else and just be. 

Ask yourself this – if everything you needed was taken care of and you didn’t have to work to provide for your needs (home, food, shelter, security), what would you do? What would your passion be? What lights you up from the inside? What is your life purpose? I don’t mean what would you do as in win the lottery and buy a boat. I mean what would you do if you had no daily responsibilities other than to love and be loved. What then? Would you write a book? Build a bridge to a path forward away from the ones you had to burn down to get here? Teach a child? Rescue animals? Create literature, art, or music? Whatever it is – find that – find your purpose – and the path forward will be clear.

I love you, all, and am so very grateful for this incredible thing I get to call life. I will never abandon you. And yes, I will burn it all down to protect those I love. Always. 💙🔥🐉 

Funny how the things left unsaid find a way to grow. From scraps of buried emotions to the little omissions dropped on the floor, those things unsaid somehow seem to become more. It’s hard to say where they come from, or at what point you gradually lost your voice – or perhaps your way – but whatever it is that has gone missing has somehow turned into something else entirely.

Unspoken weight.
Intangible distance.
The little things said out of obligation so frequently that they become as hollow as the feeling in your chest.

I learned not to do that. I learned that a long time ago. It was one of the greatest lessons Jimmy taught me in the short time we knew each other before he died. Sometimes, you meet people, and you just instantly know them. They’re not new to you at all, not even in the slightest, and it has nothing to do with anything other than the simplicity that you’ve clearly known each other before. I was fortunate enough to have that with Jimmy. The first time we met he said, “She wears shit kickers and drives a truck. She’s one of us. It’s like we’re related.” And he was right. We were inseparable from that day till the day he died.

He taught me a few things. Never say goodbye. It’s always, “see you later,” or something like that, but never goodbye. Goodbyes were forever and that was different. We never said goodbye until the dream where he told me he loved me, kissed me on the forehead, gave me a hug and said, “I love you. Goodbye.” I never got a chance to ask him what that dream meant. I knew. He died the next day before I got off of work to go see him.

That was the other one. I love you. Always say I love you when you mean it, every time you mean it. It will never lose its value so long as you always say it from your heart. Never ever say it out of habit or just because you feel obligated. That’s a hard one. Ever try not saying, “I love you,” back to someone who said it to you first? Yeah, I had to work on that one and only got better at speaking my truth – or holding back – on that lesson in the past several years.

But also make sure to say I love you to everyone you love. Don’t save it for just one or two people unless there are truly only one or two people in this world whom you love. When you see someone you missed, tell them. When someone smiles that big, genuine smile that lights them up from the inside out, smile back. Say I love you before you hang up the phone to your closest friends and the people you cherish, because it is those people who are closest to your soul. They are true family.

And, don’t hold back on saying it just to keep the peace. Be brave in your honesty, and know that every moment we have together is a gift for all of us. Cherish the laughter and the smiles. Hug each other – not those fake, cordial greeting hugs, no those are useless – I’m talking the big wraparound hugs where your chest is almost crushed with caring and affection from someone in your life who means a lot to you, and you hug them back, with feeling too. Those hugs. Not just between lovers. Actually I think those hugs between friends are even more important. My one friend used to hug me like that any time I had a hard day, and he’s about a foot taller than me. He’d just wrap his arms around me and pick me up and say, “I got you,” and whether it was helping dig a hole or fix my tractor, he meant it. Keep those friends close, because they are priceless.

But know that some friends may leave you, too and that’s also okay. Sometimes, we grow and not everyone grows with us. Taking care of yourself and your own heart doesn’t mean you have to love them less. Sometimes it just means that your paths diverge and you each have to get to where you’re going in your own time, down your own life path, on your own road to find your way home.

Whatever it is you do, make time for joy. Love. Laughter. Smiles. Time to spend with friends. Not later, don’t save it for another day and put it off and reschedule over and over again because life is busy. Life’s busy for all of us. Make time for what matters and those you love. Because you never know when that moment may be your last. I’ve lost plenty of friends to accidents that claimed their lives too soon, and I miss them greatly. It’s James’s birthday today, and I said hi to his horse, took some runs on the hill, and played that song for him on the way home. He was smiling, I could feel it.

Whatever you do, just don’t let those things unsaid or those hollow words turn into an elephant in your living room or that emptiness in your chest. The only thing worse than that elephant is everything else that flew away from you on the wings of regret.

I love you, all, and am so grateful for you in my life. And if I haven’t hugged you lately, I owe you a hug next time I see you. Later, and goodnight. 💙

A wise woman I know has been talking about synchronicities lately. She’s also been teaching about the practice of detached compassion. I’ve been listening, and learning, and without entirely realizing, the more I’ve been letting go – aka practicing detached compassion – the more things have been coming together.

Reaching for an old favorite lipstick that I knew exactly where it was, and exactly what it would match, and getting compliments on it that same night although I hadn’t worn it in years. The color was Isis, by MAC Cosmetics. I later read an email from that same wise woman, who mentioned that Isis would be guiding us (I paraphrase, she’s far more eloquent in words of Spirit) and I laughed to myself at my choice of lipstick.

It happened again, on the way home tonight from grabbing dinner with friends. Wearing my high school ski team league champions sweatshirt, and my #8 WHHS Ski Team pullover, Nirvana’s All Apologies came on Lithium. It was followed by Toadies, and I laughed and hollered like it was the last time those songs came on and I wore that sweatshirt and that pullover, sometime in the mid-90s.

I was me. Really me. The good parts of past me. The fierce athlete that was high school me. The dreamer and believer from college me. The older and wiser 40-something me. And somehow, I was more me than I had ever been right up until this moment and that’s when I realized.

We are who we choose to become, today and every day, and who we become is entirely up to us. We are limitless.

With that, I’ll say more tomorrow. But for now, I’m going to relax, ignore the super bowl (as a 49ers fan who’s also a New Yorker, this one’s hard so blahhhhhhhhhhhh), and smile at everything that’s ahead. The rest of this story is still being written.

My house brings me such joy and comfort. I look around this morning, smiling at the February love/winter themed decor. It’s the first time I’ve really leaned into the love thing. I mean, not love in general, though on a romantic level it eludes me. I mean in the little touches around the house, and it makes me smile. It brings warmth and a softening to things that I haven’t allowed myself to feel before, and I quite like it. This winter, and year so far has been off to a stellar start.

The mountain has been open since mid-December, and I’ve already been out nearly 10 times with friends and on my own. I spent three hours solo on the mountain last Thursday, after three and a half miles earlier that day with the dogs, and loved every minute of it. Meeting up with winter friends at and around the mountain, making time for local friends and catching some football. The house de-Christmas-tized and settled into the next theme of the season.

Perhaps I am growing softer around the edges. Or, maybe even a little bit on the inside and I’m letting it show. I gave the Universe permission to intervene should I do anything that would get in the way of my affirmation, and it has taken me up on that swiftly and without room for doubt.

Then I had plans (sort of) and a no show with a side of slight disappointment on the heels of letting my brain talk in circles trying to narrate what was next. What WAS next wasn’t anything I had narrated and it served as a reminder. I journaled earlier this week and said, what I learned in 2025, and so far in 2026. The lessons are coming quickly and clearly these days and in literally just less than 24h from when I wrote it, the Universe laid out an example right in front of me, without any room to even question if I was understanding it correctly. It was clearer than runs under bluebird skis on a sunny winter day on the mountain, solo.

The most important lesson 2025 taught me was believe people when they show you who they really are. Even yourself.

The first lesson of 2026 is to hold space to let people show you who they really are. You don’t need to narrate for them. Even silence speaks volumes and actions reveal the truth.

The card I pulled for the week was “Death,” and I’ve never been happier to see that card. The end of the old patterns, clearing out to make way for the new blessings that lie ahead. Every day is one day closer to that path, partnership, and way forward that I can only get to by putting one foot in front of the other, learning from my past, and allowing the future to unfold as it may.

The long holiday weekend is ahead, with a cold front incoming, and fresh snow to be blown Thursday night for the weekend on the mountain. I’ll go to the range tomorrow, ahead of league starting next week. I’ll get up early and run errands and take some shots before my 1pm call, and then head home. Maybe get the dogs out for a walk – there’s supposed to be some sun again and it’s too icy out there to take them today. Wednesday I’ll meet friends on the mountain, and get in some runs on whatever is left of the deteriorating snow. I’ll skip trivia this week, and try to head out there again on Friday after there’s fresh snow blown – before the holiday crowds of the weekend. I’ll let my friends choose where we want to go / what we end up doing après ski. I’ll figure out where I’ll have the most fun watching the 49ers game and do that. I was in the hot tub before work this morning to start the week, and I’ll do yoga and stretching this afternoon to keep the focus so I can be flexible – literally and figuratively – for snowboarding and archery this week. It’s a fun, full week ahead and the weekend is wide open. I am learning I don’t have to plan all of it, narrate everything, or come up with all the dialogue in advance in my head.

And I think now that I’ve written again, I’ll get a little more work done, and use the day for some reading, learning, and growing.

This day surely is ending better than it started. And, in looking back over the year, I am so much better now than I was when I started. This has been a truly transformational year. Not to discredit the years prior – 2020 was something, and 2021 was something else. Followed by 23 & 24 which were also um, of note, to put it mildly. But here I am. I made it. Through another year, and the 1% rule holds true. If you just work on improving by 1% every day, imagine the self-discipline and strength and amazing things you could develop with that kind of commitment to yourself! Such a small, incremental improvement brings such amazing things!

I’m still uncertain of what January finances look like, and I’m nervous about that and what lies ahead. I have faith that it will all work out and I am on the precipice of great things and that all the hard work these past years is coming together for new beginnings just ahead. I am learning to let myself feel things, and I mean really feel them, not just gloss over them and move on using business to avoid what lies beneath and that was a process for sure. I learned so much, and am so grateful. I’m laughing and dancing around the living room with music playing and dancing with the animals watching it snow outside. I opened a bottle of wine for the first time in a while, white nonetheless. Though it was also the only bottle in my wine fridge haha I so rarely drink wine or at all these days but today felt like a win and I wanted a nice white with my rosemary Emerald City chicken & zucchini dinner – in the cast iron with sliced sweet potato and a touch of goat cheese. Yum!

What a far cry from this morning, fighting a mild panic attack over the uncertainty of finances, where it felt crippling to get out of bed. But I did! And I let myself feel the fear and understand it, and not talk myself out of it. I just let it flow. I adjusted my morning routine to what I thought would help me work through it, and I got a lot accomplished and felt better. I fielded work calls, fixed the trough heater, fed the horses, put the plow on the quad, walked the dogs over a mile, negotiated with the cats, and freed attic mouse #3. Oh, and I dyed my hair ahead of the Christmas party tomorrow at Solaia, and all before lunch. I spoke with two of my favorite clients-turned-friends-turned-family, and well now here we are.

Sometimes it seems as if it’s far too long for me writing between stories here. And I’d agree. Sometimes I disappear for a short or even a long while. Sometimes it’s for a few weeks, sometimes a few months. I think if you go far enough back on here, there’s probably a period of a year or more where I didn’t post at all. But all that time, I’m still laerning, growing, understanding. Sometimes I have to repeat a lesson a few times before I truly learn and accept it and let it sink in and can move on, but that happens to the best of us. I am tanking a break from hunting because it was starting to feel like stress and a chore rather than something I loved and I realized I was putting too much pressure on myself. Not everyone drops a dear their first year hunting, especially mostly on their own. Some people do. Some do not. Both things are okay. There are no right or wrong answers. And I realize that even with the breaks between posting on here, I always am back here right on time exactly when I need to be.

Life’s funny like that. Things tend to just work out, exactly how they were always going to, once you learn the lessons and figure out how to get out of your own way. Last Friday’s yoga with Jayne was also transformational. It was the first time I could really see things for myself and feel them in my heart, not just as a story I was saying to make myself feel better in the moment. It felt real. Like, really real. And I think that was the first time I felt things could really happen – were really happening – for me. And it feels really, really good.

Candles are burning. The house smells amazing. It’s snowing outside. I have a beautiful home, incredible friends, and an amazing life. I can’t wait to see what’s yet to come!

I’ll never forget commuting to the City that day. We were among the last busses into the tunnel. Traffic was normal at first, but had slowed down for some reason and I remember seeing the toll booths holding traffic after few lanes back after we got through but lost sight of it as we went underground and under the Hudson. Exiting the tunnel we went straight up to Port Authority, and, from what it seemed at the time, it was a normal day. I ran down to the subway, knowing I’d likely be a few minutes late for work but it was just a few stops on the A train to 59th and Mad. There was an announcement – the train wouldn’t stop at Fulton St. or south. That was fine, I wasn’t going south. Must be construction or a stuck train or track issue, I thought. I exited, walked the short distance between midtown skyscrapers and ducked into my office in between designer stores. My phone rang. My father asked me to be careful. Something hit the towers, a plane, must have been a small one from Teteboro or something, he wasn’t sure yet but to please stay put, and be safe. I went to the break room where there was a TV and saw the news. I asked my boss what to do. In my memories it feels as if there was no one in the office but me, but I know that’s just my brain remembering the fear and isolation we all felt. Most of the team had already arrived and a few stragglers that came from downtown of course were held and couldn’t take the subway. We were about to learn why.

Estée Lauder released everyone from their offices immediately, encouraging us to seek safety, go home if we could, and that they had heard it was best to exit the City entirely if we lived outside of it or had somewhere safe to go. We were still confused, but, safe. I think we took the stairs – I know we did a year or so later during the blackout, but I believe we did this day too. I took my huge laptop (work was life for me as a young manager with an up-and-coming career and one of the few with laptops back then) and a few things from my desk and headed out.

Cell phone service was spotty. By then I knew the first tower was hit by a commercial plane, and then had fallen. I saw that on TV just before they sent us home. Walking outside I saw the smoke billowing looking down Madison Ave, and wondered where to go. Subways were stopped. Busses weren’t running, and the streets were devoid of vehicles, save for emergency ones rushing downtown. The second tower was still standing. It was built to withstand great impacts, we were told.

I was outside when it fell. I don’t remember if I heard it, but I do remember the smell. The ash and smoke permeated the air throughout the city, and yet, I walked closer. Not to see, I don’t think, but because that was the direction of Chelsea Piers and I heard that there was a way out of the city near there. I grabbed a cheap disposable camera at a pharmacy along the way. I didn’t think to grab cheap sneakers or flip flops, and walked the entire day – into the night – in boots and heels. I kept those boots for years, afraid to throw the out despite the heels being broken, as if throwing them out I’d somehow forget.

Chelsea Piers was packed with people. Police ushered us south to South Street Seaport where they were calling for anyone who owned boats to load people up and take them across the river to New Jersey. The Seaport was overwhelmed and they opened Chelsea Piers and any other docks to any and all boats – private boats, tugs, barges, anything you could get on – and so I walked back up there. I stood next to people covered in ash. It smelled like the death you smell at Westminster Abby, but newer, fresh, still burning as if just moments before it was life. It had been.

I stood next to a woman who watched colleagues floors up jump from the towers, grieving and feeling guilty she made it out alive. I didn’t know where my friends were who worked in the City. My Aunt worked in the Pentagon at the time and I had learned it, too, had been hit. Fortunately she was late that day and made it just in time to help as a first responder (she is a P.A.) and eventually ended up on the cover of the US Medical Journal for her efforts. At the time, I didn’t know if she was alive. I just wanted to get home.

I did, eventually, make it home safely and learned most of the people I knew were fortunately safe as well. My cousin who had worked for the FBI based out of the towers, a few friends working construction in the basement, and so on. Others were not so lucky. The weeks and months ahead were a blur, returning to the city to missing persons posters plastered everywhere, hope scattered throughout mixed in with the ashes as the reality of it all set in. I got the photos developed and gathered them eventually into an album, alongside photos of the Towers from my childhood, paying homage to a City and its people. One still strikes me as particularly poignant – smoke billowing in the background, a mostly empty street, and a billboard for the upcoming release of the new Planet of the Apes that simply said, “Rule the Planet” as a helicopter flew overhead. The irony was not lost on me, and it still holds an eerie stillness for me when I see it today.

The City was different after that. Softer. Kinder. Grieving, yet resilient. We helped each other out, offered directions when needed, guidance when available, a listening ear to a stranger on the subway or train just because we knew the world needed it. We needed it. We say we’ll never forget, yet, somehow, watching the events of the world unfold today, it seems we have almost entirely.

We may not have forgotten what happened that day, or those who were lost and all those affected in so many, many ways. But what we have forgotten is love. Love thy neighbor. Help one another. Be there. Offer a helping hand, a warm smile, a comforting hug. It’s okay if you never met. You once were strangers to even your loved ones in life and they are no longer strangers because one or both of you took the time to be kind. Remember that. Reading names of those lost that day, remembering those lost to diseases after as a result, honoring the fallen – all honorable things. But we do not change the future and prevent the recurrence of history by speaking only of the past. We change the world by remembering the kindness and love that followed those tragic events, the stories that unfolded of the resilience of the human spirit, of the Earth to heal, if the City to keep moving, and of Americans to all believe in one common goal – the ability to live in freedom, with love and kindness, not hate and division, at the helm.

It would seem we have forgotten.

Today, I take a moment of silence to remember the fallen, the heroes, and the departed. Every day, I vow to take a moment to build on that in their honor, with one small act of kindness to a stranger, in honor of 9/11. We need to do more than never forget. We need to act with honor, and grow together through love and community. Imagine how different a place the world would be if we carried through that vision from 9/12/01 into every day forward. I implore you, please, please, carry that kindness forward today and every day. I am not worried you will ever forget. I am worried we have lost our way.

With love, and honor always, for all of those lost.

There’s been a lot that’s happened over the course of my life that’s changed me and shaped who I am today. The past five years were more significant than most. Losing my best friend at 18 was a turning point, for certain. But this summer more than anything is the point where I can definitively say that everything changed. All of it.

I may have moved here 8 years ago, and bought this home 4 years ago, but this summer is the first time I feel at home, in a place I truly belong. The property is flourishing because I am flourishing and I’ve built a foundation based on love and peace here that didn’t exist before. As I drifted around the pool in silence reading a book, I realized that it was something that I’ve never known before. And then it dawned on me.

The only time I’ve ever felt truly safe, is when I am alone.

In nature, or here on my property, in the woods or on the couch with my animals. As long as there are no other humans, I am safe. I’ve learned that while I am – or rather had been – always willing to share my story and my past, my experiences, my fears and my pains, and even my self-doubts and insecurities with others in the hope that it would help them see the light in themselves, that often it was met with awe and understanding, silent nods or quiet moments of shock, amazement, and more often than not, unspoken judgement. What it is not met with, however, is consistent reciprocal vulnerability and love. I don’t know what that is, or what that feels like to experience.

Let me clarify. I have absolutely amazing friends, and an inner most trusted circle of some of the best humans on the planet. They share with me, and we are at times absolutely vulnerable with each other. There’s a trust there that does provide safety and comfort, but in a way that makes me want to have shared experiences with them, and positive ones at that. Not that anyone wants to have negative or challenging experiences, but my default when things get hard or I am struggling is to shut down and only talk about the positive. I suppose it’s a big part of how I wound up with physical PTSD while completely functional from an outward perspective. The emotional hurt and pain and wounds had no where to go, so they went inward and started doing damage to my physical body instead. My mind was able to overcome (or so I thought) everything that these past five years and the people in my life had put me through, but my body broke down anyway. I didn’t realize it, but I hadn’t cried or hurt or FELT in so long that I had completely shut down, and so my body shut down for me. The only thing that wasn’t positive that I was able to feel was anger, as a way to hide the shame I felt along with it.

Why was that? That’s a trick question – which part? Why did I feel shame? I was ashamed that I made a promise to someone that I would see their children through high school, and get them on a better path and that was a promise I didn’t keep (though I did). I felt shame because the goodness I thought I saw in others time and time again was shown to me to be something that people chose not to embrace but instead turn away from for whatever reason – their own fear, pain, guilt, shame, insecurity all from their own traumas and demons I suppose. But I took that all on as my responsibility as much as I took on the responsibility of raising two minors who’s mother was riddled with substance issues and later deceased, and who’s father was alive and well (if you consider how he lives, “good” or “well”) but chose to actively abandon the responsibility of parenting. Courts were quick to give me legal guardianship and full custody as there were multiple instances in writing of the father willingly offering to abandon the children, including that any ask for child support or financial involvement would be met with him disowning them forever. I do not say this lightly, and I do have in writing these statements from this individual. Whether meant in anger or frustration at the moment, or as a real threat, he got his wish and I naively took on two children not my own, of no relation of mine, with no support, not even from their extended family (their uncle is around and never reached out to me, their aunt on their mother’s side stayed in touch, but life’s challenges from school to clothes to food to mental health breakdowns, and even inpatient therapy for one child was met as a challenge for me and me alone to face).

Life was hard. But it got harder still. Seven months almost to the day from telling two children their mother had been found deceased, I had the grave displeasure of telling my siblings the same of our father. It was 2020. The heart of the pandemic, with my siblings living overseas and unable to travel to support. My best friend helped me clean my childhood home – a massive undertaking as we were estranged from our father due to his own severe mental illness and alcoholism – a pattern I was so willing to break in my own family that I took on the burden of another family’s same illnesses in the hope that I could fix us all. But I couldn’t, and it nearly killed me, quite literally.

Earlier this year, I was stopped for a suspected DWI. I hadn’t had much to drink and light beer at that, shared with a girlfriend over 5+ hours right after dinner. The officers said my breath smelled sweet – I must have been having sweet drinks, cocktails, or similar. Anyone who knows me knows I hate sweet, especially alcohol, and that I’m not a big drinker at all either. I carry my own water bottle with electrolytes when I go out. I have a smart, calculated routine where I drink a beer, a water, would smoke a cig before I ever ordered another drink. I’ve only ever been a social smoker at most but because I also smoke very slowly, it makes this about a 1.5h routine to get through one beer. I’ve been known to bring my own beer cozy to the local bar because I would drink so slowly it would get warm long before I was even halfway through. The math didn’t add up. The officers were as confused as I was, and fortunately they released me to the ER where I learned my blood sugar nearly three hours after being stopped, was a very dangerous 67. The staff estimated that it had been lower when they stopped me. (Google “breathalyzer hypoglycemia” and this will make more sense.) Long story short, the DWI was eventually dismissed, but I was suddenly faced with very serious and unexplained health issues.

Bloodwork was inconclusive and confusing. Doctors were minimal help. My blood sugar would frequently crash – the one time I tried any alcohol since being stopped, it plummeted to 55, just shy of losing consciousness which usually occurs by 50 if not sooner. I tried eating simple carbs, and the same thing happened. Sweets – same. Fortunately for me, I prefer salty to sweet and I could still have cheese, so with the help of some friends in the medical field, a lot of research on the internet, and daily monitoring of blood sugars, blood pressure, heart rate, and more, I set about to figure out what was going on.

A mental health and substance abuse evaluation found that I met 0 of the 11 diagnostic criteria to determine alcohol or substance abuse, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), published by the American Psychiatric Association. I had no problem stopping all simple carbs, including alcohol and sweets (yes that meant bread, corn, ice cream, cookies, rolls, and any and all forms of alcohol). I joked that I could have cheese at least, because otherwise I’d have definitely wound up back in the ER for total lack of self control. I redesigned my diet for the umpteenth time in my adult life (I lost over 60 pounds in early 2021 and kept it off). But that same evaluation was the first step in offering the physical PTSD diagnosis – I had no idea that was even a thing – and I went home and cried, feeling defeated and confused.

I started yoga and meditation regularly and I cried some more. I withdrew from friends and family. I dug into research, and data collection, compiling research on myself with as many data points as possible through the use of glucose monitors, blood pressure checks, Apple Health, and anything else I could. I knew that if I fed my brain enough data, it could sort out and identify patterns and determine what to do with them and help me map a path forward much the same way that it did when I worked on projections and budgets and potential revenue and trends for clients. It didn’t fail me.

I’d eat a salad and my blood sugar would drop to the 60s and 70s. I’d eat rye crackers or beans (complex carbs) and it would stabilize. I added ancient grains and legumes to my diet and it stabilized more. From everything I’d read and learned, given enough time the body can overcome just about anything, and so I set about to keep doing what I was doing, adjusting as I needed, until I healed. I consumed massive amounts of water, electrolytes, and salts which together acted as a filtration system to flush out whatever it was that was built up in my body that was causing this reactive hypoglycemia as it is called (hypoglycemia without diabetes, without any blood sugar increase, primarily a sharp drop in response to sugars). I developed an autoimmune allergy to my 5 year old tattoo. I had a deer jump into my car on my own road. I fought a mental breakdown in my truck questioning everything, but most of all, questioning myself. And I cried some more.

I don’t keep secrets and I don’t lie. It’s just not a part of who I am and anyone who knows me will tell you as much. It hurt even more when someone I thought was a friend called me inauthentic and a liar, using fake health excuses to cover an alcohol problem and pretending my life was great when really I was a mess. The only part that former friend was right about was that I was a mess, but physically, from not allowing myself to feel ANYTHING mentally.

And despite knowing that that former friend has told others about the incident that triggered all of this, while leaving out the legitimacy of the health issues, I started to open up. I started to admit to myself and others that living with those two adolescents was abusive and destructive. That I was afraid to take on a roommate regardless of financial challenges, because I was afraid to live with anyone. I was even afraid to have friends stay over or visit and spend the night. I was jumpy. I had (for years) always had a knife on my right hip anywhere I went. Don’t ask – I don’t have a gun, yet for some reason a knife gave me some sense of security that clearly I was lacking in, well everything.

And then I looked back at my entire life this afternoon while floating around the pool and I put the book down. I never felt truly safe anywhere unless I was alone.

In childhood, my father oscillated like Jekyll and Hyde, and could be horrifically abusive emotionally and physically. As a female professional in a male-dominated field (marketing) commuting on the subway, I was sexually harassed pretty much daily. When I lost weight, worked picked up but I found out clients that would work with me because of how I looked, not ever executing my strategies or recommendations just using working with me as an excuse to always “meet over dinner” rather than in the office and while fortunately none were ever directly inappropriate, it became apparent that it was my looks and not my brain they were interested in.

Dating was a nightmare as if I had an opinion, I was too much. Talking about my past was a surefire way to get someone to run away and so, throwing my skeletons in the street to mortify people was my go-to response to intimacy. Oh, yeah? You think you can handle me? Want to hear about my fucked up trauma? My imposter syndrome? How my father worked for NASA but was also bipolar turned paranoid schizophrenic and how I, too inherited the bipolar part? (I got help in my 20s, that requires an acute level of self awareness and regulation to understand my boundaries and triggers, something that decades later is a non-issue as I am very much my authentic self and embrace who I am and know how to no longer operate in the mania in which my father lived, and eventually died.) All of that, and a side of two kids I was not related to that I willingly took on – and was abused by – was enough to scare even good-intentioned friends away, forget about a significant other. Who would sign up for that? I wasn’t even sure why I had myself, and I was the one living it.

This was the summer that changed everything.

The second half of the summer, I started inviting people over.  My cooking flourished as did my health (just check out my IG @CJMillar82!). My property blossomed and I did along with it. I reconnected with friends who called me family, and meant it, without wanting anything from me but time and love, something they were willing to also offer consistently in return and we made monthly visits a thing. I was able to have ice cream once in a while. I had a cupcake and didn’t pass out, get dizzy, or end up dangerously hypoglycemic. My soul started to heal. And so did my heart.

But I still only felt safe alone. Truly safe. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. Abuse is a strange thing. It doesn’t have to be just physical. The constant demanding, demeaning, being told you’re not doing enough, that you expect too much, that you’re too demanding, or even being told lies and spun stories that make you question your own reality and mind is another form of torture that triggered more emotional trauma from my childhood. I haven’t sat down and told anyone all of this from beginning to end, though the handful of true friends I have know these stories strung together over time, campfires, and the occasional smoked old fashioned or porch swing conversation. Few have seen me cry, crumble, or hurt. Even fewer have seen me ask for or accept help unless I am truly desperate and out of my element (such as with my tractor or hot water heater) and even then a prevailing sense of guilt and “not good enough” had me scrambling to repay them with dinner if they wouldn’t accept money even when money was tight for me and I still insisted. I felt overall undeserving of help or love it seemed. Though as I thought earlier, and thinking back again as I type this all out, I can see why.

I also realized I genuinely like alone time, but that perhaps I don’t want to be alone all the time anymore. I’ve been reading Permission to Feel by Marc Brackett, Ph.D. and struggling still to get through it, stopping frequently as I reevaluate myself and uncover more of the “why” behind who I am, and learning how to start to feel, even when it’s uncomfortable. It is often uncomfortable. I’ve always wanted to share the good experiences in life, the beauty of nature, the magic of theme parks, the thrill of a roller coaster, my favorite things that make me smile and laugh, my brightness and joy with others to help them see the light in themselves. What I didn’t realize was that I was doing so over and over and over again whether or not people wanted to grow or evolve or change, without ever allowing myself to replenish and feel for myself. Positive only, all the time. Struggles are hard, but I’ll get through them on my own, no need to bring others down. I can carry this weight, and their weight too.

This summer I put that weight down. All of it.

I put down the weight of being the sole person focused 100% on the agency that provided the bulk of my income and 0% ownership, and instead focused on what I wanted to do and what I excelled at with the intention and goal of finding additional employment before the close of 2025 and I am happy to say I have several opportunities in front of me.

I put down the weight of educating others on areas in which I knew I was more informed or experienced or educated whether that be business, community, relationships, psychology, interpersonal skills, communications, or anything else for that matter.

I put down the weight of trying to fit in everywhere – at business events, fighting to stand out to get the attention I knew I deserved but instead just clamoring among the noise. Fighting to be recognized for my skills when people would tell me I’m brilliant and amazing and if they had the money they’d hire me while wondering why the companies with the money had not (hard to when you’re self-limiting).

I put down the weight of explaining myself, my past, my trauma, and my small town’s rumors. Writing here is more than I’ve said on anything that’s happened in the past year that’s even remotely public, and it terrifies me. But I also know everything I have said here is the truth, and I have the proof to back it up, and I also now know that no one needs that proof but me. It’s my experiences alone, and no one else has to have an explanation even when they make up their own stories about me and tell others in an attempt to ruin my life.

I put down the weight of being stalked and the fear that followed that. While it’s still disconcerting, I realized that changing locks, alarming everything, and living in fear wasn’t doing anything for my health, and that if someone really wanted to hurt me, they could and would. And that words spray painted in the woods as a threat were just words. They couldn’t hurt me anymore. And as such I deleted those awful parts of abuse and hate and evil from my past. Literally. Gone. Saving only what I felt I needed, and knowing that the lessons would stay with me for times to come, knowing I learned what I needed and grew where the Universe had pushed me to grow.

And I put down the weight of being too much, the fear or guilt of being the smartest person in the room, the most perceptive, the one who notices everything to the extent that it almost seems like I can hear thoughts and read minds (maybe I can). And I embraced myself, and welcomed anyone in who wanted to share in that same level of authenticity, help me learn in all the areas I am lacking – we all have so much room to learn and grow. And open to sharing in the areas where I am strong and resilient, intelligent and outgoing. I dare hope for that challenge, compatibility, and above all else, authenticity and honesty in action and communication that brings with it the consistency that forms the soil from which safety starts to grow.

I repotted plants as much as I repotted myself, with firm roots in my home. And then today I realized.

I only truly feel truly safe when I am alone.

I’d like to change that. So I am.

Things are changing. The good days far outnumber the bad, and the bad aren’t even that bad anymore. The morning anxiety is (mostly) at bay, and things that worry me are challenges to overcome, not roadblocks that stop me in fear anymore. I’m healing inside and out, and while I am not entirely there yet – we all are works in progress, aren’t we? – I am on my way.

I have hope in ways and things I haven’t before. I am listening to music again, dancing around the house like a child at play, arms flailing, wide-eyed and grinning, laughing at myself with all the joy around me. I am feeling almost ready to emerge from my cocoon of self-welcomed exile this summer, but not quite yet.

Truth be told, I usually become a bit of a recluse in the summer. Town’s too busy with tourists for my liking, and all my friends in hospitality and business owners don’t need my business now when they’re already busy and they’ll be just as happy to see me once the weather turns and the busy season ends. I’ve reveled in this summer at home more than I can ever remember. My home is amazing, my property looks wonderful and loved, and welcoming, and I am actually enjoying it, and time here with true friends and family. I’m not quite ready to leave that just yet. Not that I’ll lever leave it, this is home, but I’m not even quite yet ready to venture out into public. I’ve limited my days and errands, spread out my work to cater to the weather instead of to others, and been able to enjoy socializing in my neighborhood more than ever.

Dog walks almost daily keeping Reese fit ahead of surgery #2. Yoga and mediation daily to help me heal, learn, and grow. Days in the pool when it’s sunny. Visits with friends and found family from out of town that have started their own tradition we plan to continue for as long as we’re able. A connection to my own soul for a change in a way that actually listens, rather than always looking first to help others regardless of the cost or damage to myself.

I have so much energy that taking a day off is hard and I have to actually remind myself to rest rather than remind myself to motivate. I look forward to working out, and to work. To meditating and growing. To reading and learning. I rarely turn on the television, even though I spend about 80% of my week alone. Some days I don’t even see any other humans if we don’t pass anyone on the road on my walks with the dogs. I couldn’t sit still so I did a 2mi walk/jog just now despite having worked out earlier and done 4mi with the dogs yesterday on top of that, and then some, and it was my best time ever. The other day I was excited that I did 3.5mi averaging under 15min per mile and today was even better! While that may not seem like anything to you, I promise you, that’s a huge deal to me!

I’ve had 4 knee surgeries, screws in both, shattered leg, shattered ankle, shattered hand, spine and vertebrae damage and hairline fractures, neck, skull, and nerve damage, and more. The fact that I can jog at all excites me in ways I can’t explain. And not just trail jog (I crossed that milestone about a year or so ago), but road jog – something I couldn’t even do without getting shin splints when I played 3 varsity sports all through high school. That’s incredible to me! I can’t wait til snowboard season, with three boards tuned up and ready to go. Opportunities to go more places – already have my season pass for Holiday Mountain, which may seem small to you, but to me it’s “home”. At just 30 min away, I can pop over for a few runs between meetings, or last minute, and they have night skiing, and will let us have dedicated snowboard racing if we can get funding for the gates (I’m working on it!).

There’s so much on the horizon! I’ve made such amazing friends, up at Plattekill, right here in town (girl, I’ve known you a YEAR now, nuts!), and up in my other mountain home, Lake Vanare and I plan on getting to see all of them this winter and snowboarding with them. I even worked on my novel again for the first time in over a year, and am making great progress!

Things financially are in a hiccup right now, but I believe that’s old things falling apart so new and better things can come together and there are several on the horizon that, when they come to fruition, will make my dreams come true. There are opportunities in front of me that are beyond my wildest dreams, and even if they don’t all or any work out, working towards them and learning from them has been an absolute blessing. I know what I want to do, I know in my soul what I am good at, what my gifts are, and how I want to share that with others. Now I need to believe in myself enough to know that others will recognize that too, and while I have no idea how, I have to trust that the Universe is going to put something or someone in my path that recognizes and believes in me and gives me the opportunity to shine. Kinda like an actor waiting for their big break, only I’m not acting, and the only time I want to be on a stage is to share my story and illuminate the way forward for others.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do. Share my light now that I am finally learning how to do so without depleting myself entirely in the process. But rather by regenerating that light as I share my story and who I am in the right ways, with the right people, the ones who appreciate it, and who appreciate me. I am spending no more time on people who do not want to move forward with me, with love.

I know. I sound all sorts of ridiculous and idealistic. Is this what living like this does? I mean, it’s pretty amazing. I’ve completely torn down every old habit from my entire fucking life. All of it. And started from scratch. I rebuilt from the very beginning. I relearned how to eat. How to drink. How to speak. How to exercise. How to harness your own energy to regenerate more. How to grow. How to love. Starting with yourself. Starting with myself. That’s what I did, and it’s been truly amazing.

So very amazing! So THIS is what joy is? This is what joy really is! How incredible! Yes, it took work. It took a lot of work, actually, and it took tearing everything down and starting over like I’ve never even lived before, but this time listening to my intuition and my soul. And what a difference it’s made. I’m still dancing around the living room, music blasting, still wide-eyed smiling. While I don’t know exactly what’s next for me when it comes to my career, I know that it will be amazing and I trust in that and will keep working hard to get there. I‘Ve been talking to someone online for a month now (ack shit really!) and we’ve talked on the phone a few times, and I am really looking forward to meeting him. He’s been kind and patient, a good listener without over communicating (note to self: over communication malfunction on my end still needs work 😂). I’ve been the holdup and he’s been understanding of that and that’s also helped me want to consider emerging from my summer hideaway, at least for a bit. He doesn’t seem to mind that I know everyone around here so no matter where we go, we’re likely to run into someone I know who hasn’t seen me in months and get questioned. He said he’s okay with that, which is awesome because usually I live a semi-public life (I work in marketing and use my social media to support businesses I work with and am friends with).

That’s a pretty tall order – all of that – and so far, so good, so I am excited. I am excited to meet someone new, in a non-work related manner, and enjoy someone else’s company other than the select few friends I hold close vs. the massive network of people I am friendly with (yes there’s a tremendous difference). I am learning how to respect my extroverted introverted-ness and what that really means. I am, by nature, totally fine alone and prefer and actually need quiet time and space where I feel completely comfortable to let my thoughts rattle around and settle down and sort themselves out and that’s something I’d neglected for too long, always putting others first feeling obligated to be there for everyone without ever really being there for myself. I know the difference now, but also after so long here on my mountain mostly alone, I am just about ready to come back out and play. Laugh. Enjoy. In all the ways I’ve learned joy really is and what it really means these days. That girl you knew before? She doesn’t exist anymore. I’ve turned into a butterfly. Just give me a few more weeks…or months…and then I’ll reemerge and be ready to fly 🦋 💕