She Changes Everything…

Some days feel harder than others, and yesterday was one of them.

Does anyone else ever have those days where you feel like you’re failing at life?

Yesterday was one of those days. Most days I do well at keeping my inner critic at bay, but yesterday that voice was loud. I’m divorced, in my 50s, living with my kids and my mom. I care for her as she navigates aging and her own health challenges.

This is not the picture of the “ideal” place to be at this stage of life and yet I know I’m not alone. So many of us quietly find ourselves in unexpected chapters like this. Like so many in this age range, I’ve found myself in that in-between place, caring for a parent while still showing up for my children, holding space for two generations while trying not to lose myself somewhere in the middle.

My life looks nothing like the picture I once held. Everything that once felt like a constant has changed. Where I live, relationships that used to feel steady, and even how I feel in spaces that once felt like home. Sometimes I miss my own house so much it feels like a dull ache. The one that used to be full of my kids and their friends, their laughter, our routines, the life that once felt so certain. I miss the version of me who belonged there. Some nights, the pain of that missing feels sharp, and I wonder if what I’m building now will ever feel as full, as real, as home once did. Still, somewhere beneath the ache, I hold hope that what I’m creating now will, in time, lead to new forms of happiness and new relationships. I know it won’t be the same kind of happiness, but my vision is to create something equally meaningful one that’s full of love and abundance.

I may not be a millionaire, and I don’t own a big house anymore or have the kind of financial success society tends to glorify. But I’ve come to understand abundance in a very different way. My wealth lives in the connections I’ve built, the work I love, and the people I get to walk beside in this lifetime. I’ve learned that the one thing we can truly count on is change. As much as we try to control our outcomes, change arrives to teach us it helps us grow and learn. I remind myself of this often. Spirit has stripped away almost everything earthly from me to remind me that true happiness doesn’t depend on material success. It depends on how we treat each other, who we show up for, and the difference we make in the lives around us. It’s not about owning the biggest home, wearing expensive clothing, or driving a fancy car.

Even when life feels unrecognizable, there are still small moments that remind me I’m exactly where I need to be.

Where I live now is peaceful we are surrounded by trees and kind people. This morning, on my walk, my neighbor a few houses down popped her head out just to say good morning. She always makes a point to greet me, and she exudes such kindness.

The thing is, I don’t know her politics, her religion, or much about her life at all and she doesn’t know mine. Yet she chooses kindness every single time. It reminded me how simple it can be: connection doesn’t need rules, alignment, or agreement. Just a willingness to meet each other in the space of shared humanity.

She made me smile today and reminded me that I am where I need to be. Even though this transition period has been rough, I know I’m being guided and rooted in something greater than what’s visible.

In certain areas of my life, I can see the pathway clearly. I love my work and feel deeply grateful for the community around me. I can feel purpose moving through me when I’m with clients, serving Spirit through mediumship, teaching, or holding space. I know I’m doing what I came here to do. That knowing is so important to me: to honor what my soul came here to do, no matter what else around me may be shifting.

I’m realizing this is part of the transformation, I am learning to hold both gratitude and grief in the same moment. To keep showing up for the life that’s here now, even as I release the one that once was.

I trust Spirit. Even though losing people we love is painful, I know I need to remember that people and situations come and go, even when we thought they never would. Maybe that’s part of how we grow, release, and return to who we truly are.

If you’re in one of these tender seasons too, please know you’re not alone. I hold the belief that “failure” isn’t a word we should entertain that what we experience are simply seasons of transformation, growth, and learning as we move through this human journey.

Maybe transformation looks less like soaring forward and more like learning to move one small, sacred step at a time.