The Post That Wasn't Supposed to Be First

So this actually wasn’t supposed to be my first blog post. I had one written — something I’d been working on for months — but when I posted it, something just didn’t feel right. Maybe I was overthinking, but it felt like… this isn’t it. At least not right now. (So yeah, it’s archived.)

Now I’m here, writing off the top. Honestly, I’m being pulled to just talk about where I am — what I’m feeling right now.

If you’ve read the “About” page, you know this blog was meant to be a gradual telling of my story — the pieces, the lessons, the full picture — but today feels different. Today, I’m being guided to speak from the middle of it.

So here goes

2025-What. A. Year.

And- It's not even over yet.

It’s easily been one of — if not the — hardest years of my 35 around the sun. I wish I could say things are getting better, but truthfully, it’s more about finding purpose in my pain than pretending everything’s fine.

I lost my mom almost a year ago, in December. This is my first year learning to live without her. And because I’m a mom too, I’ve spent most of this year toggling between “super mom” and “grieving lunatic” (it is what it is). My mom was my village — so when she crossed over, I had to learn to navigate life without that support. That meant a lot less “me time,” and a lot more surviving on fumes.

Today, while driving to pick up my son’s medication, I found myself in complete silence — no music, no distractions — just me and my thoughts. And somewhere between stoplights, I started to feel it all. The weight. The grief. The frustration.

Then came reflection — how I got here, and who I’ve become along the way.

I’m divorced, with kids (one who has autism and struggles with emotional regulation). For the most part, I’ve been raising them on my own. Before that, I was in a relationship/marriage for over a decade. After the divorce, I spent the last four years trying to rediscover who I am — and who I want to be. There have been hard stops, yes, but also moments of incredible growth and self-discovery.

Blogging didn’t just come out of nowhere. I’ve always loved writing, always felt drawn to share stories, but never quite had the courage to stay with it. I knew I wanted to help people — I just wasn’t sure how. And as someone who’s introverted (not sure if it’s by nature or trauma), the idea of putting myself out there to be seen and judged felt… impossible.

As the emotions flooded in, frustration joined the mix — frustration over where I thought I’d be by now. Even this blog, which was supposed to launch days ago, became another thing that wasn’t “progressing.”

I must’ve circled the parking lot for 20 minutes before I came to one conclusion:

Everything comes back to me.

I’ve been playing small, avoiding the mirror, avoiding the truth.

So here it is — I need to stop being a scary a** girl and own my sh*t like a grown woman.

I can’t keep living like I’ve got it all figured out. I don’t.

But maybe that’s the point.

If I’m being called to be more raw, more honest, more real, what’s the consequence of ignoring that call?

What’s the worst that could happen? A lot, honestly.

But what’s the best that could happen?

That, I don’t know. And maybe that’s what I’m here to find out.

What happens when you learn to love and accept every part of yourself — the good, the bad, the ugly, the broken? I don’t have the full answer yet. My ego’s still fighting me on it.

But one thing I do know — I’m done hiding.

I’m choosing to show up anyway.

Reflections

I’ve had “The Truth Untold” by BTS playing while I write this. If you know me, you know how deep my love for them (BTS) runs — and this song captures exactly why.

It’s a song about fear. The fear of being seen, of showing the parts of ourselves we keep hidden because we think they’re too much or not enough. It speaks to that quiet place inside that whispers, “If I show you my scars, will you still stay?”

When I first heard it (the song), I didn’t expect it to echo through me the way it did. And now here I am, being guided to face those same shadows. To stop hiding my story and stop softening my truth just to seem “okay.”

I’ve spent a lot of time behind a mask. The one that smiles and says I’m fine even when I’m breaking. But something in me is shifting. I can’t continue to remain silent. To do that is not only denying me of my own healing, but whoever my words may touch. This post is my quiet promise to stop pretending. To let the truth be told — even when it trembles.

If you’re carrying shame or regret, please know this: you don’t have to tuck those parts of yourself away to be loved. You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy.

My favorite line in the song says, “But I still want you.” It feels like a message from my soul to my heart; a reminder that despite the cracks and the chaos, I am still wanted. I am still worthy.

And maybe you needed that reminder too.

Despite your mistakes, your struggles, your soft spots — you are enough. You always have been.

And I still want you.