I’m leaving self-doubt in 2025. The constant second-guessing. The voice that questioned whether I was enough, whether I made the right choices, whether I should shrink myself to fit into spaces I had already outgrown. I’m leaving behind the version of me who stayed in a relationship long after it was over simply because I didn’t want to add another “failed relationship” to my story. Staying didn’t make it succeed — it just delayed the truth. And I’ve learned that honoring the truth is braver than staying comfortable.
I’m also leaving behind friendships that no longer fit. The ones I outgrew but held onto out of loyalty, history, or fear of change. The ones that only showed up when they needed something, or quietly made me feel “hard to love.” Growth changes people — and sometimes it means realizing that not everyone is meant to walk into the next chapter with you. Especially when they tell you to be better, and to do better as a mom.
And then there’s the heaviness of the world. This darkness that feels unavoidable, like toilet paper stuck to your shoe — following you whether you want it to or not. I don’t get to pretend it doesn’t exist. We’re all carrying it into the new year with us. But I do get to decide how much power it has over my joy, my home, and my peace. This year I will pretend that, "that person" is only a myth in a Harry Potter novel and say "the one that shall not be named."
This year taught me more about myself than I think any other year ever has. I learned how to piece myself back together — and how to help my boys do the same — after love and loss. I learned that resilience doesn’t mean being untouched; it means showing up anyway. It means rebuilding with honesty, tenderness, and grit. It means choosing hope even when the road is still uneven.
As I step into 2026, I’m doing a reset. A conscious one. I will be naming what I will not bring with me — and what I absolutely will.
I am not bringing self-doubt or second-guessing my intuition. I am not bringing toxic relationships, emotional breadcrumbs, or people who only love me when it’s convenient. I am not bringing guilt for choosing myself or my children first. And I am not bringing fear of outgrowing spaces that no longer feel safe or aligned.
What I am bringing is clarity. Peace. Boundaries that protect my heart and my home. A deeper trust in myself. Gratitude for the lessons — even the painful ones — because they shaped me into someone stronger, softer, and more sure of who she is. I’m bringing laughter, healing, and a renewed commitment to living honestly, loving deeply, and choosing joy where I can.
2025 shaped me. 2026 is where I choose myself—fully, unapologetically, and with intention. And that feels like the best kind of beginning. You won’t want to miss what I have planned next. This year, I’ll be highlighting women in business through my monthly articles for north end communities, while also expanding my blog to tell women’s stories—not just locally, but from around the world.
I’m slowly working toward a podcast and vlog-style platform, growing it intentionally over the year so that even as my vision changes, our voices don’t disappear. Storytelling doesn’t require sight—it requires connection, honesty, and heart.
I hope to write for the Herald, focusing on women in business in Poulsbo, and to continue showing up for the communities that make this place what it is. My goal is simple: to help people connect—to businesses, to stories, and to the people who build the place we’re lucky enough to call home.
As I step into this next chapter, I’m looking forward to living life to the fullest—and being okay with the fact that not everyone will like me. There are moments when I look back and don’t even like past versions of myself. But the truth is, we all evolve. We all change, shift, and reshape as life moves us forward.
Some people may remember who I was at seventeen, or during relationships I had no business being in. I’ll unpack all of that someday. But I hope we can all agree on this: none of us should still be defined by who we were at 17, 23, or even five years ago. I’ve lived a million lives since 2011 alone.
What matters is this—over the last five years, I’ve done the work. The real, uncomfortable, necessary work on myself. So I invite you to get to know the woman I am now—the almost-50 version you may not have seen or known since our last conversation, whenever that was. I am doing this for the girl I use to be, the dreams I use to have and that along the way trying to fit in and become someone for people to like, I am doing it for the girl in these pictures of me from long before I became hateful to myself. Before I put everyone ahead of me. I am doing it for my kids so they don't have to feel the way I did, and walk down roads I walked down because I never thought I was good enough and picked people in my life that should have never had a seat at my table.
We all deserve a do-over. And we all deserve the freedom to stop worrying about what others think of us. Every version of ourselves matters in our story, but we don’t have to live tethered to the ones we’ve outgrown. If some people can’t accept who we’ve become, that’s on them—not us.
No regrets. Only growth.
