You Will Be the Villain Somewhere
This week taught me something I didn’t necessarily want to learn — but probably needed to.
I found myself reading words and sitting in conversations that quietly reframed my judgment and my values in a way that didn’t match my heart at all. Decisions I had made thoughtfully and conservatively were being interpreted as careless. Standards I believed were kid-centered and appropriate were described as questionable. And for a moment, I felt it — that tightening in my chest when you realize you are being cast in a role you never auditioned for.
Lonely Doesn’t Mean Broken
Loneliness doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it slips in quietly, even when life looks full from the outside. Full calendars. Full rooms. Full conversations. And yet, beneath all of that, there’s an ache that doesn’t quite go away. I’ve learned this week that loneliness doesn’t mean something is broken. Often, it means something has shifted—and I’m still learning how to stand where I am now.
Cashing in my Mulligan
2025.
Well… that was... a year.
Like so many of you, I’ve been reading the year-end recaps — the honesty, the exhaustion, the collective sigh of “2025 was hard.” I feel that deeply. I see so many people saying they’re ready to let the heavy stuff go and finally receive goodness, peace, and joy.
Same. Loud same. If I’m being honest, 2025 sucked ass. It was a total kick in the face kind of year. One of those years where just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, the floor drops out again. And again. And again.
There were moments I truly didn’t know how much more I could take — physically, emotionally, spiritually. It felt relentless. Exhausting. Heavy. Painful. Some days, survival was the only goal. Some days, I questioned everything.
And yet…