Thoughts for Today

It comes up more than you might think. A woman sitting across from me — or on the other end of a call — working through something that, on the surface, looks like a decision about a relationship. A friendship that has grown quiet. A family dynamic that feels heavier than it used to. A connection that once felt mutual but lately feels one-sided. And somewhere in the middle of the conversation, she says something like, "I don't know why I keep trying so hard for people who aren

This week I’ll be celebrating my birthday. I used to make a big deal about my birthday– and I wanted you to make it a big deal too. Birthdays felt like milestones. Now they feel more like moments for reflection.  Moments to notice what has shifted, what has softened, and what has become clearer over time. This year I don’t feel dramatically different. But I do feel clearer. There are times that I still go back and forth on certain boundaries. I still replay conversations in m

I set a boundary recently that felt clear, measured, and necessary. It wasn’t reactive. It wasn’t harsh. It was thoughtful. And yet later that night, I lay awake replaying the conversation in my head—not because I doubted the boundary itself, but because I worried about how it would be received. Would I seem distant? Withdrawn? Unkind? What if clarity in me felt like rejection to someone else? The conversation had ended, but the argument hadn’t. It had simply moved inward. Se

I often talk about self-care as soft, soothing, the kind of thing that feeds your soul. But this week, self-care for me looked like sitting on hold with Tricare while we followed up on the referrals from my yearly physical. Asking lots of questions about providers and advocating for myself. This was neither inspiring nor relaxing. But it was necessary.  This was me keeping a promise to myself. To be transparent, I practice self-care in many different ways. I do buy the flower

If you got flowers yesterday, I love that for you. Truly. And if you didn’t, I have a different idea. Buy your own. There’s something quietly empowering about walking into a store, picking out a bouquet you love, and placing it on your own table. Not because no one else would. Not because you’re proving something. But because you can. And because you’re worth the beauty. “Buy your own damn flowers” isn’t about independence in a hardened way. It’s not about rejecting love or

Stepping away doesn’t mean escaping life. It means entering a space where nothing is being asked of you, and noticing what rises when the mental load is set down. It starts with the drive. I turn up the music, really loud and sing without reservation. I arrive early to be sure I have time to get settled in and grounded before the others arrive. We always stay by the ocean. You can smell the salt in the air and see the waves crashing on the shore. And then, there’s a deep brea