It’s been a while since I’ve used my website. It feels strange to read my last post now—I was full of optimism. I had just turned 50 and felt certain I’d found a new zest for life. 2025 was going to be my year.
And then, suddenly, the rug was pulled out from under me and everything collapsed. I can honestly say it was one of the hardest years of my life.
I’ve learned a lot—about boundaries, about calling out harmful behavior, about standing up for myself. I’ve also had moments I’m not proud of, times I reacted from hurt and tried to pass that pain on. I own that.
The scars—on my body and in my heart—are mine. They shape who I am.
Am I through it? I don’t know. But from where I’m standing now, it’s starting to look a little brighter.
This is a piece of writing that I did on the eave of my 51st Birthday.
In the final days of 2025, I stand at the edge of myself, looking back on my fiftieth year. I had chosen this year to be triumphant—a new me shaped from everything I’d survived: car accident, assaults, cancer…
I planned to gather my scars as evidence that I was still here.
Instead, a sudden violation cut so sharply it stole my breath and left my spirit deflated.
Still, I climbed—one deliberate step at a time—remembering that, at midnight, the date changes. And at the summit of this brutal year, I vow to choose me.