A journey of healing, rising, and stepping fully into the woman I’ve become.
I gave up so many parts of myself this past year in the name of peace. I made sacrifices for a fictional future—and spoiler alert: it was never peaceful or real (turns out delusion isn’t a shared vision board). But I didn’t realize the depth of what I was surrendering until the fog lifted and I finally exhaled.
Once all of the toxic, negatively charged, emotionally abusive energy exited stage left? Honey, my life reintroduced itself to me—and oh, what a reunion it has been.
So, let me count the ways I’ve reclaimed my power, my voice, my magic, and my joy:
No More Drinking the Drama Cocktail
One of the first things to go? The drinking—and the drama that came with it. Every damn night holding down a barstool for dear life while nonsense dragged on for hours. That left with the problem.
And the food? Look, I still love a greasy burger, fried mozzarella sticks, and a good beer (I’m not a monster), but daily fast food and nightly binges? Those just… vanished. Amen.
Now? I rarely drink. And when I do, it’s intentional—a glass or two, maybe three if I’m feelin’ spicy, and usually no more than once a week. My body responded like that (snap): deeper sleep, less inflammation, and waking up with actual peace instead of wondering what kind of mood he might be in.
My physical health began healing immediately. And the best part?
I feel ahhhhhmazing.
Then I saged the whole fucking apartment. Multiple times. Lit some candles, opened the windows, moved the energy around. Whispered a few intentions into the universe and maybe tucked a name or two into the freezer—just for safekeeping.
Let’s just say… balance has been restored.
Financial Glow-Up, Baby
No more financial chaos disguised as “partnership.” I got real with my money. Built a strategy. Dusted off my credit report. Faced those bills and receipts (ouch, but necessary). And now? I’m paying myself back—with interest—for every time I cleaned up someone else’s mess.
Muscles Over Mayhem
I’m back with my trainer—yes, consistently, and yes, we are lifting heavy on purpose. My body is strong. My form is correct. And my gym time is sacred. She keeps me safe because listen, in your late 40s, strength and safety are sexy. I’ve got all my original parts, and I intend to keep it that way.
Strength training is important, ladies.
Seriously. Invest in your body like it’s your favorite handbag—because you wear this one every single day.
Talk Therapy: 10/10, Highly Recommend
Why the hell did I not get a therapist sooner?! I’ll never know. But now? We’re talking. We’re unpacking. We’re healing. My therapist is my co-pilot on this emotional road trip, and she does not let me take detours into old pain.
Nothing but forward motion, goals, and growth from here on out.
Self-Care Is Not Selfish
My hair? Done.
My skin? Glowing.
My brows? Arched in judgment only at red flags now.
I reclaimed my self-care days like the VIP rituals they are. No more skipping my beauty appointments to support someone else’s insecurities or emotional instability. That part of the story? Closed chapter.
Energetic Hygiene Is a THING
I’ve started doing energy work. I’m learning about chakras, balance, and how to protect my damn peace. Monthly energy cleanses? Yes, please. I saged the whole year of nonsense out of my aura and made room for actual light.
Friendship Is a Love Language
To my male friends: thank you. For showing up. For welcoming me back without guilt. For the laughs, the hugs, the “you good?” check-ins. I missed y’all. I’m lucky to be loved like this.
Sunshine Girls—My Soul Sisters
You know who you are. Thank you for reminding me who I am when I forgot. For the adventures, the couch talks, the brunches, the poolside chats, the big bear hugs (those are everything). Life is so much brighter with you in it.
Booked. And. Blessed.
I booked my next cruise.
This was one of my biggest stressors—I almost didn’t do it. The thought of it made me physically nauseous. (Thanks, trauma.) But when the invite came through? I said YES. Because this trip isn’t about running away.
It’s about showing up—to celebrate, reconnect, and dance under the stars with people who truly see me.
Manifesting Aruba Magic
Birthday trip loading… Aruba. All-inclusive. Ocean breeze. Peace of mind. It’s not final-final yet, but let’s be real—I’m going to make it happen.
(Because that is what I fucking do—I make shit happen.)
This isn’t just a birthday—it’s a divine reclamation of the woman I was always meant to be.
Dating, But Make It Divine
Okay, dating post-drama? A wild-ass ride. There are frogs, of course. But I’ve also met men who are kind, chivalrous, and emotionally available (?!). Not looking for Mr. Right (yet). If it happens, cool. But it’s not happening in two hours, two weeks, or maybe even two months.
Right now? I’m enjoying the journey. The flirtation. The warm dinners and good conversations. It feels good to be treated with basic human kindness. To be told I’m beautiful. To be seen. And honestly? That’s enough.
The Moral of the Story?
When I stopped shrinking to fit someone else’s small world, the universe EXPANDED for me.
My energy is clearer. My boundaries are healthier. My heart is still tender—but no longer bruised. And while I’m still healing, I’m also thriving.
To anyone who feels like they’ve lost themselves in someone else’s storm:
You can come back to yourself.
And when you do? The blessings pour.
I am not who I was. That woman is gone. The woman I am becoming? She’s better. Stronger. Louder. Softer in the right places. Sharper in others.
I am reclaimed. And baby, I am just getting started.