Tag: #coping

Resilience Rising

Life throws us into the depths of despair, often when we least expect it. I know this all too well. There was a time when grief felt like a heavy cloak, suffocating every ounce of joy I had. It was as if the universe had conspired against little ole me, leaving me to navigate a world filled with unbearable tragedy. Yet, amidst that darkness, I discovered that life can still be meaningful, even in the face of overwhelming sorrow.

At first, I found myself questioning everything. Why did this happen? What was the purpose? I was enveloped in a fog of pain that seemed impenetrable. Each day felt like an uphill battle, and I often wondered if I would ever find joy again. But as time passed, I began to realize that grief, while a heavy burden, was also a testament to the love and connection I had experienced.

So I started to reflect on the beautiful moments that had once filled my life. Memories flooded my thoughts—laughter shared with those I love, quiet evenings spent in their company, and the warmth of their smiles. These memories became my lifeline, reminding me that even in the darkest times, love endures. I learned that it was okay to cherish those moments while simultaneously feeling the weight of my loss.

I also discovered the importance of vulnerability. Instead of hiding my pain, I began to share my story with others. I found solace in the understanding of friends and family who had experienced their own struggles. In opening up, I realized that we are not alone in our suffering. There is a unique strength in community, a healing power that comes from connecting with others who understand the depths of our pain.

As I embraced this journey, I began to seek out ways to honor my loved ones. I started pouring my energy into making a positive impact in the world. This gave me a sense of purpose and allowed me to feel that their spirit lived on through my actions. I found meaning not just in my memories, but in the legacy of love they left behind.

Through this process, I learned that life is a tapestry woven with both joy and sorrow. Each thread, beautiful and unpretty, is essential, contributing to the richness of our experience. It’s easy to get lost in the darkness, but I discovered that light can still break through, revealing the beauty that exists even in the most challenging times.

I began to appreciate the little things—a warm cup of tea, the sound of rain, or the beauty of a sunrise. These small moments became reminders that life, despite its overwhelming tragedies, still holds wonder and beauty. They taught me to be present and to find gratitude in the everyday.

If you’re navigating a similar path, I want you to know that it’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to grieve and to allow yourself to experience the depths of your emotions. But I also encourage you to seek out the light. Look for the moments that make your heart flutter, the connections that bring you comfort, and the ways you can honor those you’ve lost.

Life is a journey, one that requires patience and self-compassion. But as we walk this path, we can find ways to create beauty from our pain, transforming our grief into a source of strength. Even in the darkest of nights, the stars still shine. And in that light, we can find hope, purpose, and a renewed appreciation for the gift of life.

Reclaiming My Routine

For someone with ADHD, the disruption to our carefully constructed routines can feel like an emotional earthquake followed by a mental tornado.  Suddenly, all those coping mechanisms we meticulously built for ourselves get thrown into question.


Let me tell you, this past breakup definitely sent my routine into a tailspin.  Explaining my ADHD to a partner who didn’t seem to care, navigating the good days and the “forget-the-laundry” days – it was a whole thing. Being single again has allowed me to reclaim my routine, ADHD and all, without the constant need to explain or justify.


The freedom to manage my day on my terms has been a revelation.  I can wake up to a playlist specifically designed to jolt my brain awake (yes, it sometimes involves lofi, don’t judge!). My morning routine might involve tackling ten minutes of cleaning in a whirlwind of energy, followed by a ten-minute meditation session to calm the scattered thoughts. It’s unconventional, but it works for me.


The best part? No need for apologies!  If I hyperfocus on a project and forget to eat lunch, well, that’s okay. I can whip up a quick protein shake and get back to my zone.  And let’s be honest, sometimes a color-coded schedule is the only way to ensure I don’t miss meetings and calls.


This newfound freedom to embrace my unique approach to routine management has been empowering.   It’s allowed me to rediscover the joy in the little things – the satisfaction of completing a task, the focus achieved during a deep dive into a project.  It’s a reminder that my ADHD isn’t a burden, it’s simply a different way of experiencing the world.

Sometimes, a little “me time” is the perfect reset button for the mind, body, and yes, even the ADHD brain. To all my fellow ADHD warriors out there, here’s a message of solidarity:

  • Embrace your routine, quirks and all!
  • Take this time to reconnect with yourself,  rediscover what works for you, and celebrate the small victories!  

Steamy Short: The Unlearned Language of Love

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing within me. Evan sat across the table, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart. His eyes held a faint glimmer of the warmth I used to see, a flicker of recognition when I’d compliment him, a fleeting smile when I surprised him with his favorite food. But mostly, there was a hollowness, a vast emptiness that no amount of affection on my part could seem to fill.


We met at a wedding, two broken souls drawn together by the therapeutic rhythm of reception music. He was a sculptor, his hands whispering stories into the formless earth. I was a writer, weaving narratives on paper. Yet, the story we wrote together was one of mismatched languages.


My love for him was a vibrant tapestry – a sunrise over a mountaintop, the laughter of children at play, the reassuring warmth of a crackling fire. It was loud, expressive, a constant symphony yearning for a response. His love, if it existed at all, was a faint whisper – a lone wolf howling into the night, a flickering candle flame in a drafty room.


Our days were filled with stolen moments of tenderness – a lingering touch on his shoulder, a slow dance in the kitchen to a forgotten melody. But these moments were islands in a vast ocean of silence. My attempts to draw him in were met with flinches and unspoken apologies. It was like trying to teach a bird to swim, watching it struggle against the current, fear clouding its trusting eyes.


Slowly, a heartbreaking truth dawned on me. You can’t love someone into loving themself. You can’t force them to understand a language they’ve never been taught to speak. My love, a nourishing sun, was withering on the vine, starved for the reciprocating rain of affection.


Letting go wasn’t a dramatic affair. There were no tears, no accusations. It was a quiet understanding that settled between us, a recognition of the inevitable. Over breakfast one morning, I simply said, “Maybe this isn’t working.” He looked up, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features, before nodding silently.


Even now, as I pack my bags, leaving a life once filled with hope, a part of me still aches for him. I yearn for the man I saw beneath the layers of hurt, the man who might have learned to love, someday, if only he’d had the chance.


But for now, our paths diverge. I carry the love I had for him, not as a bitter reminder, but as a testament to my own capacity for caring. He, I hope, will find his own melody, his own way to heal, his own language of love. And maybe, someday, our stories will find an echo in another life, a life where love flows freely, a song sung in perfect harmony.

A Celebration of Long Hugs and Near Smiles

Life scatters us like dandelion seeds. Some friends planted roots near me, their laughter a familiar comfort just a phone call away. Others chase dreams across oceans, their faces lighting up my screen in small moments of connection. But no matter the distance, the love remains, a constant hum beneath the ever-changing melody of life.


We get caught up in the daily grind, the emails, the to-do lists, and somehow, “thank you” gets buried beneath the urgency of “must do.” But life moves by too fast. Before we know it, those cherished moments become cherished memories, and the people who hold those memories become even more precious.


Across the world or across the room, the people we love deserve to know how much they mean to us. Maybe it’s the friend who always picks up the phone, no matter how chaotic their life is. Perhaps it’s the family member who offers a listening ear and a warm hug during tough times. Or maybe it’s the person who simply makes you laugh until your sides ache. These are the people who weave threads of joy, support, and love into the tapestry of our lives. They deserve to hear, loud and clear, the impact they have.


So, forget the awkwardness of expressing my feelings. Ditch the “I’ll tell them later” mentality and embrace the power of “you make me a better person.”  Send a heartfelt message, pick up the phone for a long overdue conversation, or better yet, plan a trip to see that person who lives far away.


Long hugs might be rare for some of us, but a heartfelt text goes a long way. A near smile might be a daily occurrence for others, but a handwritten letter can carry a special weight. The point is, express yourself! Let the people you love know how much they matter.


Because life is short, and the connections we build are what truly matter in the end. Let’s cherish them, near or far, with open hearts and unwavering love.  Celebrate the people who make our journey brighter, a little louder and a little clearer, one heartfelt expression at a time.

A Celebration of “Trying”

“Trying.” It’s a word often tossed around casually, but lately, it’s felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders.  I’m in the thick of growth, tangled in the messy process of healing. Forgiveness feels like a distant melody while grief lingers like a shadow. I search for answers while wrestling with the need to let go.


This life we lead is a juggling act. And let’s be honest, sometimes the balls feel like they’re all about to come crashing down. Yet, here I am, catching them (most of the time) and trying again.


We often focus on achievements, on the finished product. But what about the messy in-between? The part where growth and healing coexist in a chaotic dance? Where forgiveness feels like a whisper against the roar of anger, and grief clings to us even as we try to let go?


This “trying” phase deserves its own celebration.  It’s a testament to the human spirit, to our inherent desire to become better versions of ourselves. It’s the quiet voice within us saying, “I may be hurting, but I’m still here, and I’m still moving forward.”


It’s okay if forgiveness takes time. It’s okay if grief ebbs and flows. It’s okay if searching for answers feels like wandering in the fog.  The important thing is that we’re still trying.


And while we’re busy juggling growth and healing, don’t forget the most important love story of all: the one with yourself. It’s easy to get lost in the needs of others, to prioritize the world around us. But in the midst of “trying,” remember to show yourself some compassion.


You are worthy of love, even when you’re messy and imperfect. You are strong, even when you feel fragile.  You are capable of incredible things, even when you’re just “trying.”


To the jugglers, the healers, the grievers, the searchers, and the lovers.  May we celebrate the “trying” phase, for it’s in this messy, beautiful in-between that we truly grow.


Sending love and encouragement to you all on your own unique journeys. ✨

Finding Serenity at Lake Junaluska

My kids are gone and I needed a change of scenery, a chance to breathe.  That’s how I found myself at Lake Junaluska, a place whispered about with hushed reverence.


Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Lake Junaluska is more than just a pretty picture.  It’s a haven of tranquility, a place where the gentle rhythm of the lake whispers promises of peace.  Fresh mountain air filled my lungs, replacing the stale smog that had settled on my soul.


The day unfolded in a slow, calming dance.  The morning began with gentle yoga on the dew-kissed grass, the rising sun painting the sky in hues of hope.  A long walk along the lake’s edge became a moving meditation, the rhythmic sound of water lapping at the shore a soothing balm for my troubled mind.The evening was filled with quiet reflection, curled up with a good book in my cozy room in the inn. 


Lake Junaluska isn’t just about the breathtaking scenery, though that certainly plays a part.  It’s about the community, a gentle tapestry woven from threads of kindness and understanding.  A simple conversation with a fellow guest, a shared smile with a stranger passing by – these tiny connections reminded me that I wasn’t alone on this journey.


As I leave this haven of peace, I carry with me a renewed sense of hope.  The mountains may be fading in the rearview mirror, but the serenity they instill lingers within.


Healing is always possible, sometimes in the most unexpected places.  So, if you’re searching for a place to mend your heart, a place to reconnect with yourself, I urge you to consider the magic of Lake Junaluska.  It might just be what your soul needs.

The Gentle Art of Giving: Why Caring for Others Mends My Broken Pieces

There’s something about taking care of others that fills me with silent joy. Maybe it’s the way a warm cup of soup chases away their sniffles, or the sight of their eyes crinkling with a smile after a listening ear. Whatever it is, nurturing others has become a cornerstone of my life.


But here’s the thing: for a long time, I didn’t realize why this act brought me such peace. It wasn’t just about being a good friend or family member. It was about a deeper healing within myself.
You see, somewhere along the way, I missed out on receiving the kind of care I craved. Maybe it was a lack of emotional support, or perhaps unfulfilled needs in my younger years. Whatever the reason, a part of me yearned to feel cherished and nurtured.


And then, I discovered the magic of giving. By showing up for a friend going through a tough time, or simply offering a shoulder to cry on, I was unknowingly filling a void within myself.
It’s like this: when I care for others, I’m showing myself what I wish I had received.  The compassion, the empathy, the act of simply being there – these become a balm for my own unhealed wounds.


It doesn’t erase the past, but it allows me to rewrite my internal narrative. I’m no longer the one waiting to be taken care of, but someone strong enough to offer care.  And in that act of giving, I find a piece of myself I never knew was missing.


This doesn’t mean I neglect my own needs. Self-care is still crucial. But taking care of others has become a way for me to practice self-love in a different form. It’s a reminder that kindness, compassion, and nurturing are powerful tools, not just for others, but for ourselves as well.


So, the next time you find yourself drawn to help someone, take a moment to appreciate it. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not just helping them, but nurturing a part of yourself that needs a little extra TLC.