#journey – Page 2 – In My Unapologetic 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!

Saying “No” with Self-Love

Lately, the word “no” has become my mantra. It’s not a negative word, but a powerful tool for protecting my emotional well-being. Saying “no” to dates might sound crazy, but trust me, it’s a form of self-care that’s blossoming beautifully.

Breakups leave scars, emotional ones that take time to mend. Right now, I’m in the gentle process of healing, rediscovering myself, and figuring out what kind of story I want to write next. Dating in this vulnerable space feels like putting on roller skates before learning to walk again. Not smart.

So, instead of forcing myself into potentially awkward situations, I’m focusing on inner exploration. I’m back to reading self-help books filled with wisdom, not TikTok videos. I’m taking long walks in nature, listening to smooth lofi, not the noise of a crowded restaurant. I’m spending quality time with my children and close friends, basking in the warmth of genuine connection.

This period in my life isn’t about staying stagnant. It’s about creating a foundation of self-love and understanding. It’s about remembering my worth and setting boundaries that prioritize my emotional health. When I eventually do decide to open myself up to dating again, it will be from a place of strength and clarity, not desperation and loneliness.

Remember: saying “no” is a powerful act of self-love. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you wise. Focus on healing, on rediscovering who you are, and trust that love will find you again, but on your terms and on your own beautiful timeline.

My Plantastic Jungle: Where Chill Vibes Grow

Working from home day in and day out can be a total drag sometimes. Like, deadlines are piling up faster than the dirty laundry, and the world feels like it’s running on fast-forward. But guess what? I’ve got the ultimate stress-busting secret weapon: my very own plantastic jungle!

Okay, okay, maybe it’s not technically a jungle (yet!), but it’s definitely overflowing with awesome plants that make my home feel like a total oasis. Some might call it an obsession, but I call it happiness central! These leafy besties seriously bring the chill vibes.

Every morning, before the day really starts, I do a little happy dance with my green crew. Watering their thirsty leaves, misting the air for my humidity-loving ferns – it’s like a mini spa day that sets the tone for a peaceful day. And let me tell you, seeing a new leaf unfurl is like watching a tiny miracle unfold – it’s just so darn inspiring!

But the coolest part of it all, is taking care of these plant pals like I take care of myself. It’s a daily reminder that even with all the craziness in life, we can still create something amazing. Plus, these little green ninjas are basically nature’s air purifiers – they breathe in yucky carbon dioxide and breathe out life-giving oxygen. Totally the ultimate wellness squad for me and my asthmatic princess!

Beyond the science stuff, though, they’re just plain gorgeous. My pothos hangs like a lush curtain of green, while my African violets add bursts of color like tiny confetti explosions. Every plant has its own personality (and name!), making my jungle a living, evolving work of art.

Stepping into this haven is pure magic. The gentle hum of the humidifier, the earthy scent of fresh soil, the soft light filtering through the leaves – it’s like entering a chilled-out dreamscape that melts away stress faster than you can say “namaste.”

So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed and need a little piece of peace in your life, consider joining the totally awesome plant parent club! It takes a little patience and effort, sure, but the rewards are way cooler than just pretty decorations. It’s a space to breathe, to grow, and to reconnect with the simple joys of life. Because sometimes, all you need is a little plantastic therapy to find your happy place!

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.