Learning to Trust Happiness Again

After years of surviving betrayal, grief, financial stress, and starting over, why can peace feel so uncomfortable? In this deeply personal episode of Life's a Blog, I share how the unexpected success of my magazine made me realize I was still living in survival mode. We explore trauma through the insights of Gabor Maté, discuss why we wait for apologies that may never come, reflect on the wisdom of Mel Robbins, and discover why healing isn't about forgetting the past—it's about trusting that happiness is allowed to stay. If you've experienced betrayal, heartbreak, divorce, grief, or are rebuilding your life, this episode will remind you that you're not broken—you've adapted, and your best chapters may still be ahead.

Transcript

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I don't know if you've ever had a moment. One of those moments where life finally starts going your way. And instead of celebrating, you almost panic. You think, wait a minute, what's

When A Dream Finally Hits

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going to go wrong? And I had one of those moments recently. For those of you who don't know, I own Living Local magazine located in the Waterloo region of Canada. It's been my dream, my stress, my challenge, and honestly, one of the greatest joys of my life. For the past year and a half, it has been all consuming. Every issue felt like a gamble. Would advertisers come back? Would readers pick it up? Would I have enough money to print the next issue? Would people even notice the countless hours that go into creating something that lands on a grocery store shelf for free? I question myself constantly. And if you've ever built something from the ground up, you know exactly what I'm talking about. People see the finished product, they don't see the nights you're staring at the ceiling wondering how you're gonna make payroll. They don't see the invoices, the rejection emails, the ideas that flop, the moments you wonder if you're completely crazy for believing in something everyone else said would never work. You know, print is dead. But they don't see the tears. They just see the success. And well, something happened this month. Actually, something incredible happened. I printed thousands of magazines. I stocked grocery stores because my son had gallbladder surgery and he could not do any lifting. So he drove, I stalked, with the help of my daughter as well. Then when I came back a couple days later to check on them, they were gone. Not a few copies, not half the rack, they were gone. Every single one. I texted my kids and I'm like, what is going on here? And I went back the next day and I filled some up because I had some boxes in the car, and I went back and they were gone again. And I remember standing there just staring at the empty display. I should have been excited and I should have been celebrating. Instead, my first thought was, now what? How am I gonna print enough when I don't have enough advertisers? How am I gonna keep up? How do I solve this problem? And it kind of sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? For months I prayed people would read the magazine, then when they did, I just couldn't enjoy it. Because my brain immediately went looking for the next problem, and I realized something. Maybe I wasn't living in the present. Maybe I was still living in survival mode. Have you ever noticed that about yourself? And maybe it's not a business for you, maybe it's your relationships,

Trauma And The Survival Brain

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maybe it's your finances, maybe it's your health. Maybe things finally start settling down, and instead of taking a deep breath, your shoulders stay tense. You're scanning the horizon, still waiting for the next crisis, still wondering when life is gonna pull the rug out from underneath you. And I think a lot of us live that way. Especially if we've been through trauma, betrayal, especially if we'd lost people we love. Your body learns something. It learns that life can change in an instant, that happiness can disappear, that security isn't guaranteed. And because it loves you, because it's trying to protect you, it stays ready always. A few weeks ago, I was standing in my kitchen after another really good day for the magazine. We had new partnerships, great feedback, readers were sending messages, advertisers are starting to get excited. Everything I've been working towards seemed to be happening. I and I should have slept like a baby that night. Instead, I laid awake, and I couldn't explain why. Nothing was wrong. My mind kept racing. My mind kept saying, Don't get too excited. Something bad always happens. Don't get comfortable. Have you ever had those thoughts? They're so automatic that sometimes we don't even notice them. We mistake them for being realistic, for being prepared, for being responsible. But what if they're actually something else? And I feel now that they're old survival patterns. They're trying to protect us from a danger that no longer exists. There's a quote from Gabor Mate that completely changed how I think about trauma. He says, trauma is not what happens to you. Trauma is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you. And that really I say that often to remind myself, because I spent years thinking trauma was the events: the betrayal, the divorce, the loss, the financial stress, the grief. But Dr. Maddie says trauma isn't the only event. It's what your nervous system had to do to survive the event. So think about that. If your life taught you that people you love can leave, wouldn't your heart be cautious? If life taught you that security can disappear overnight, wouldn't your mind always be looking for the next threat? And if your life taught you that every time things got good, something painful followed, wouldn't success itself start feel to feel uncomfortable? But that said, you're not broken. You're adapted. Your nervous system did exactly what it was designed to do. It's per to protect you. The problem is the same survival skills that got us through the hardest chapters of our life can quietly keep us from enjoying the beautiful ones. And I really do feel that's where I am right now. And not because life is perfect. I had one little incident last week that threw me for a loop, and we'll get into that a little later. I I don't want to divulge too much of my past. I I want to I want to help people get through when life throws you the loop and how to get through it. And life is not perfect, believe me, it isn't. But because for the first time in a very long time, I'm not just trying to survive, I'm trying to figure out how to live. And it turns out those are two completely different things. I started thinking about how many years of my life were spent just trying to make it through the day. The last eight really. Not the week, not the month, the day. And maybe you've been there too. When you're in survival mode, your world gets really small. You don't have the luxury of dreaming five years ahead. You're just hoping tomorrow isn't a worse day than today. And I remember times in my life where I couldn't even imagine feeling peaceful again. I wasn't thinking about joy, I wasn't thinking about purpose, I wasn't thinking about what I wanted my life to become. I was thinking about paying the bills, existing, keeping food on the table, holding myself together long enough that the people who depended on me didn't see me fall apart. And that's what my survival looks like. It isn't really that dramatic, to be honest with you. Sometimes just getting up, going to work, smiling when someone asks, How you're doing, coming home, crying in the shower because it's the only place no one can hear you. Then doing it all again tomorrow. In my world, people see resilience. They don't always see the cost. You know, I used to think resilience was something you earned, like a badge of honor. People would say, You're so strong. And I'd just smile and say thank you. But if I'm being honest, there were times I didn't want to be strong anymore. I wanted someone else to carry the weight for a while. I wanted to stop making every decision. I wanted to stop wondering if I was enough. I wanted to stop feelings like everything rested on my shoulders. Have you ever felt like that? Where people admire your strength, but what they don't realize is you never volunteered for the job. Strength wasn't a choice. It was the only option you had, and eventually you kind of get really good at doing it. Almost too good. Because once your brain learns to survive, it doesn't know when to stop. It becomes your default setting. Even when life gets better, I I heard someone say once that the nervous system doesn't care if you're happy. It cares if you're familiar, and that really resonates in me because familiar isn't always healthy. Familiar is chaos sometimes. It can be uncertainty. It can be walking on eggshells and it's waiting for the phone call that everything changes. Sometimes familiar is disappointment, sometimes familiar is the silent treatment. And when you've lived there long enough, peace can actually feel uncomfortable. I want you to think about that. How strange is it that calm can make us anxious? And I know it has for me. When things are quiet, my brain starts asking questions. Did I forget something? Is something about to happen? Why is everything so still? I think that's why so many people unknowingly create chaos. Not because they enjoy it, because it's what their nervous system recognizes. It's what feels normal. Dr. Maddie talks about how our adaptations are brilliant. He doesn't call them weakness, he calls them adaptations. They're the ways that our minds and bodies figure out how to survive. Hypervigilance, boy, do I know that well. People pleasing, perfectionism, overworking, always staying busy, always taking care of everyone else before ourselves. And those aren't character flaws. Many of us, they were survival strategies, and maybe they worked. In fact, they probably did. I feel my 21 years, it absolutely did. They got us through incredibly difficult chapters. And here's the question I've been asking myself lately. Are the strategies that protected me five years ago still serving me today? And that was a hard question to ask because letting go of survival habits can feel like letting go of protection. It's almost like taking off a suit of armor, if you will. You know, it's heavy and exhausting, but you've worn it for so long that you can't imagine walking without it. I think that's where a lot of healing happens. Not in some huge breakthrough moment, not in one therapy session, or after reading one great book, healing happens in the tiny moments. The moments you allow yourself to rest without feeling guilty, the first time you say no without explaining yourself, and the first time you trust someone again. It's

Tiny Moments That Rewire Safety

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the first time you laugh so hard you forget, even for a moment, what you've been caring. And when you realize you made it through an entire day without thinking about the person who hurt you, those moments seem small, but they're huge. Because they're proof that your nervous system is still learning something new. It's learning that life isn't only about surviving anymore. It's learning that maybe, just maybe, you're actually safe. And I know that word safe means something different to everyone listening. And some of you, safe means being out of a toxic relationship. And for others, it means that your kids are healthy, healthy, or you're finally paying off debt, or finding a home that feels peaceful. Maybe it's something simply waking up in the morning without that knot in your stomach. Whatever safety looks like for you, don't rush past it. I invite you to sit in sit in it and celebrate it. It's like I was a week gone from the trailer, and I was so anxious all the time because I was going from one house to another house to sleep, and it just didn't feel safe. Not saying that I wasn't safe with the people that I was with, but it just didn't feel safe. I needed to ground myself and I couldn't. And if you're anything like me, you've spent enough years wondering if the rug was about to be pulled out from under you. Maybe this season isn't about preparing for the next storm, and maybe it's about learning to enjoy the sunshine. And I'll be honest, that's been harder than I expected. Not because I don't want peace, because I'm really still learning to trust it. You know, it's so funny. People often look at someone else's life and assume they know the whole story. They see where you are today. They don't always understand what you're willing to do to get there. A few months

Choosing Sacrifice To Build A Future

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ago, I made the decision that on the surface, probably because it didn't make a whole lot of sense to some people, I moved into my trailer for the summer. Now, if you only looked at that one decision, you might think things must not be going very well for her. But actually, the truth is very opposite. I wasn't moving backwards. I was making one of the most intentional decisions that I made in years. I looked at my life and asked myself a really difficult question. What am I willing to sacrifice today so I can build a life I want tomorrow? And it's a very difficult question to answer, especially at my age. Because sacrifice doesn't look glamorous. It doesn't get a lot of likes on social media. People celebrate the success. They rarely celebrate the discipline that created it. Living in this trailer wasn't about giving up something. It was about giving something a chance. It was about believing in my dream enough to invest in it. Every dollar I wasn't spending somewhere else became another opportunity to grow my magazine, another chance to hire someone or raise their hours, another issue to print, another community partnership, another opportunity to tell local stories that deserve to be heard. And I tell you something, I've questioned it time and time and time again, and I even wondered if I was crazy. And then there was days I thought, wouldn't it be easier to play it safe, go find a nine to five job and just do what everybody else does? But then I started watching what was happening. The advertisers started believing in what we were building. Community organizations started reaching out. We've sold the cover numerous times, which has been a struggle in year one. Readers became began sending messages telling how much they loved the magazine. And then I told you about the moment that I experienced earlier, walking in those grocery stores, looking at the empty racks, realized people had picked up every single copy. And it just hit me. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't chasing a dream anymore. I was actually living it. Isn't that funny? Sometimes we pray for something for so long that when it arrives, we don't recognize it. So very often I will say, Dear God, I just need a win. And sometimes you get that win and you don't look at it as a win. And we're like, because we're so focused on the next goal that we miss the miracle standing right in front of us. And I kind of caught myself doing exactly that. Instead of saying, wow, look what happened, I started thinking, okay, how many more copies do I need? Uh how many more advertisers do I need? How can I keep up with this demand? And those aren't bad questions. In fact, they're very good business questions. But somewhere along the way I realized I had forgotten to celebrate. Maybe that's something we all need to hear today. How often do we accomplish something once we prayed for? And instead of celebrating, we immediately move to the finish line. We buy the house, then worry about renovating, we buy the we get the promotion, then worry about keeping it. We heal from one child chapter, then start bracing for the next heartbreak. It's like we never let ourselves arrive. And I've been guilty about that, and maybe you have too. I think it's because survival mode teaches us that standing still is dangerous. We have to always keep moving and solving and fixing and keep preparing. Because if you stop, something might catch you. And here's what I'm learning now. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stop. Not forever, but just long enough to look around and say, This is the life I worked so hard to build. And I don't say that from a place of pride. I say it from a place of gratitude, actually. Because there were years when honestly I didn't know if I'd ever feel hopeful again. There were years where I couldn't imagine talking about the future without fear attached to it. And also, there's simply making it through the day felt like a victory at times. And if that's where you are right now, please hear me. Your current chapter isn't your whole story. I know it feels endless. I know it feels like this is just your life now. I know there are mornings when getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain because I've been there. Maybe not in your exact circumstances, but I know what it feels like to wonder if life is ever going to feel light again. And if I could sit across a table from you right now, I'd tell you this. Don't confuse the chapter you're in with the ending of your story. The hardest seasons have a way of convincing us that they'll last forever. And they won't. One day you look back and realize the season you thought was burying you was actually planting you. Glowth growth is a is strange that way. It happens underground first. Nobody sees it, nobody applauds it. Nobody sees how much is changing beneath the surface. Then one day people call you an overnight success. They say, Wow, you got lucky, and they tell you how proud they are and celebrate what they can see. But you know. You remember the lonely nights, the tears, the doubt, the sacrifices, the prayers, the tiny decisions that nobody noticed. And and maybe, just maybe, that's why success feels so emotional, because it reminds you of everything it took just to get there. And I was as I was writing this podcast, I was thinking about all of this, and I realized something. For years I believed that healing was going to happen because something outside of me changed. I thought maybe one day I'd get the apology. One day someone would finally understand how much they hurt

Letting Go Of The Apology

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me. Maybe one day they take responsibility and I'd feel validated. And you ever caught yourself doing that? It's very cyclical. It happens during the whole healing process. That thought keeps returning to your head until it no longer comes anymore. And you keep playing the conversations in your head, imagining what you'd say if they finally admitted they were wrong, thinking that somehow those words would make everything okay. And I used to do that. And I used to do that every day because I'm someone that fixates on things. I realized I was giving someone far too much power over my future. The truth is we spent a lot of time waiting, waiting for justice and waiting for karma, for someone to become the person we always hoped they would be, for them to love us the way we deserve to be loved, for them to finally choose us. But life has a funny way of teaching us differ something different. Sometimes they don't change or apologize, and they rewrite the story because that's easier than facing the truth. They convince themselves that what happened wasn't that bad. Or maybe they tell themselves you were the problem af all along. And you know that's painful, it's really painful because someone you loved deeply, you naturally wanted them to understand what they did. You want your pain to matter and your story to be acknowledged. But I've learned that not everyone has the capacity to do that. And waiting for someone to become emotionally healthy enough to validate your experience can keep you emotionally stuck. And there's another idea that really stayed to me lately, and it comes from El Robbins. She talks about how our lives change when we stop waiting for other people to change. And when I first thought I'd heard that, I thought, well, that's true. But then I started asking myself, where am I still waiting? Where am I still hoping someone else will become the person I need them to be? Where am I putting my life on hold because someone's choices? Those are uncomfortable questions because the answers aren't usually about them, they're about us. Healing begins when your future no longer depends on someone else's apology or someone else's approval. It no longer depends on someone's ability to recognize your worth. And I want you to think about that for a minute. How much of your peace have you accidentally handed over to someone else? Maybe it's an ex partner, a parent, a sibling, it's a friend who walked away, maybe it's someone who betrayed. Your trust. It could be your kids. Maybe it's someone who couldn't love you the way you needed. Whatever the relationship, if your peace depends on them changing, you're still giving them control. And I know that's hard to hear because it's almost, it sounds unfair. You're thinking that they're the one who hurt me. And you're absolutely right. Maybe they did, maybe they lied, maybe they cheated or abandoned you. Maybe they broke promises they should have kept. None of that was okay. But here's the truth. If we spend the rest of our lives waiting for someone to repair what they broke, we may spend the rest of our lives waiting. And I don't want that for you. And I don't want that for me either. I spent enough years waiting, waiting for people to become who I hope they'd be, or waiting for life to feel fair, or waiting for someone else to give me permission to move forward. Eventually I realize something. Permission isn't coming, and closure isn't always a conversation. Sometimes closure is a decision with yourself. It's waking up one morning and saying, I don't need another explanation. I don't need another argument. I don't need someone else to finally see my value. I know my value. And that's a very different place to live from. It doesn't mean you don't still have moments of sadness. Trust me, last week I did when I heard someone narrate a truth that no longer exists. And it didn't necessarily hurt me, but it hurt someone that I loved. And that mattered to me, and I was so upset. But thank God I have good friends that gather around me and talk to me and talk me out of it because that's their story. It's not mine. I have videos and tapes and conversations that shows that that one person was part of that other person's life. But if they don't want to acknowledge it today, that's on them. It's not up for me to go chase and and say, you know, that's not true. You can't do that. You gotta let them narrate their own story. Are they good people? Probably not, because they're doing, they're changing stuff. I certainly know how mothers of deadbeat dads feel now, especially if they want the dad in the child's life. I know there's some mothers that take pride in not having the father in their life. But I know how it felt how heartbreaking it was for me to hear these things and go, wow. And that's where I say, trust me, I do understand. I do have moments of sadness. And there's still days when memories catch me off guard. Whether it's a song or a date on a calendar, a photograph, you know, your memories on TikTok and Instagram and Facebook. It could be something someone says, and healing doesn't erase those moments. It changes what they mean. The memories may still hurt, but it no longer controls the direction of your life. And once you realize that, that's real freedom. And it's not forgetting, it's not, it's choosing not to live there anymore. And I think that's what this season of my life has been teaching me, not just how to survive, but how to stop looking over my shoulder, how to stop expecting yesterday to steal today, and how to believe maybe, just maybe the best years of my life aren't behind me, maybe they're just beginning. I am sitting at the trailer and it has to be 8,000 degrees because I can't have the air conditioning on while I do this. So I apologize if I'm stumbling a little.

Getting Older Boundaries And Peace

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So every week I like to connect the episode to a song because I truly believe music has a way of saying the things our hearts struggle to put into words. Today's song is The Older I Get by Alan Jackson. I've heard this song so many times over the years, but lately it so feels different. And watching his concert this weekend on TikTok has just been bringing me back to happier times, happier memories, thinking of my father, thinking about being younger and at home and listening to Alan Jackson and Randy Travis and Charlie Pride. It just brought great memories. And then when I saw the celebrities who sang at the concert, they too felt that pride of old legends and the songs that they brought to us. And I've maybe that's what happens as we get older. The songs don't change like we do. One lyric says, The older I get, the more I think. You only get a minute. Better live while you're in it. And isn't that the truth? When I was younger, I thought life was endless. There would always be another opportunity, another summer, another Christmas. Another chance to say the things I wanted to say. But life has a way of reminding us that tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Losing my parents and my ex-husband changed that for me. Grief has a way of rearranging problems. It makes you realize that the things we spend so much time worrying about often aren't the things that matter the most. Nobody gets the end of their life wishing they had answered a few more emails, or spend more time worrying about what strangers thought of them. We remember people and conversations, we remember laughter around a dinner table, remember road trips and the hugs, the ordinary Tuesdays that didn't seem special until they became memories. And those are the things that stay with us. And here another lyric says, the older I get, the fewer friends I have. When I was younger, I thought having a lot of people around meant you were successful. I but now I think differently. I've learned that I'd rather have a handful of people who show up than a hundred people who disappear when life gets hard. I know for a fact that the my tribe that I have today will always be there for me, whether we talk once a week, once a month, even once a year. And trauma has a funny way of revealing who's really in your corner. And success does that too. Some people celebrate you, some people tolerate you, some people quietly cheer from the sidelines. And some people become uncomfortable when your life starts moving forward. And that's okay because you don't have to look back at those. And not everyone is meant to walk every chapter with us. I've stopped trying to convince people to stay. I've stopped chasing relationships that require me to shrink so someone else can feel comfortable. If someone wants to be a part of my life, wonderful. And if they don't, I wish them well. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Of course it hurts. It means I've learned that peace is too expensive to trade for someone else's approval. And another lyric in the song says, The older I get, the better I am at knowing when to give and when to just walk away. And I love that line. Because when you're younger, you think walking away means you failed. Now I see it differently. Sometimes walking away is the healthiest decision you'll ever make. I am super responsive. And if something makes me cry, not angry, if something makes me cry, I can respond so quickly because they've brought that feeling, that emotion to surface. And I know last week it was like, I think four different people told me, do not respond. It took all of heaven and earth not to, but it didn't. And the next day I was so proud of myself because at the end of the day, it's their loss. I still got that relationship with that wonderful little human being. And walking away from a version of yourself that you believe you had to keep everyone happy, you know, it's just trying to earn love that should have been given freely is not worth your while because they're not losses. Those are boundaries, and boundaries aren't walls. They're doors with great big locks on them. And you get decide, you decide who gets to walk through them. You decide who has earned a seat at your table. And that took me a long time to learn. I used to think being kind meant saying yes, being available, everything to everyone. Now I think kindness means protecting your own peace. And I said that to my daughter the other day. Because if you're constantly pouring from an empty cup, eventually there's nothing less left to give. And one of the biggest gifts of getting older is perspective. You realize life isn't a race. It's not a competition. It's not about having the biggest house or the nicest cars or the most followers on social media. I'm quite content with the few people that listen to this podcast because, like my magazine, I do feel it will grow as I grow, because I'm walking the walk with you. It really is about alignment. Do the people in your life make you feel safe? Do they make you feel heard? Do they make you feel loved? Does your work have meaning? Do you laugh often? Do you wake up excited more days than not? Are you becoming someone you actually like? And those questions matter far more than the ones I used to ask. And maybe that's what this whole episode has really been about. Not surviving, not success, not even healing. It's really just about becoming. And you have to find the strength from deep down to become. Become the version of yourself that no longer measures life by what you lost, but by what you're building. Becoming someone who's who trusts themselves again, someone who can celebrate the good without immediately waiting for it to disappear. Be someone who can love deeply without losing themselves. Someone who understands that peace isn't sometimes something you stumble across. It's something you have to protect. And as I listen to the older I get again this week, one thought kept coming back to me. Maybe getting older isn't about adding more years to your life. Maybe it's about adding more life to your years. After everything we've survived, isn't that the goal? Not just to exist. Not just to make it through another day, but to wake up excited about what's ahead. Why not try to laugh a little louder, to worry a little less, to love the people who love us truly? To forgive ourselves for the years we spent simply trying to survive and chasing love. Those years built us. And now we can decide what comes next. The other day, as I we were driving, my daughter and I were talking about what kind of person would be right for me. She smiled and said, Mom, I think you need someone who's the

Consistency Emotional Safety And Becoming

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complete opposite of you. I laughed. And of course, in my last podcast episode, I did mention that that thought came into my head. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't agree. Sure, there are qualities someone opposite from me might bring that would balance me out, but there are parts of who I am that one that I never want to compromise on. I'm creative. I want someone who loves creating right alongside of me, someone who can take photos, fly a drone, paint, explore new places, and if I'm lucky, sit on the deck with the guitar and sing while the sun goes down. More than anything, I want someone who wants to build a life together, not just fit me into spaces between everything else. At this stage in my life, I don't want to be someone's occasional visit or convenient companion. I want consistency. I want someone who chooses me every day, just as I choose them. And I've realized that's really what feeling safe means now. It's not just about romance either. It's about every relationship in my life. Just today a friend kept checking in on me until I arrived back at the trailer safely. They didn't do that because they had to. They did it because they genuinely cared. The simple act reminded me that emotional safety isn't found in grand gestures. It's found in people whose actions quietly say you matter. After everything I've been through, I think that's what I value the most. Not perfection, but presence. No more intensity. I want consistency. Not people who are held captive by yesterday. I want people who are free to fully live today and look towards brighter days ahead. And as I get ready to wrap up today, I'm gonna turn the AC on and just lay on the floor beneath it because it's smoking hot and I'm really sweaty. And as well, I'll also have my phone because I'm down the rabbit hole of where exactly Taylor and Travis will get married on the third. But I want to leave you with one question. And it's not because I have the answer, but because I've been asking myself the very same thing. Who are you becoming? Not who you were,

Who Are You Becoming Now

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not what happened to you, not what someone else called you, not what someone else did to you. Who are you becoming? Because for a long time, if someone asked me to describe myself, I probably would have started with everything I'd survived. I'm divorced, I've been betrayed, I've experienced loss, I've struggled financially, I've started over, I lost my parents every build. And while all those things are true, they're not the whole story. They're just chapters. Really important, painful chapters, but they're not the ending. The problem is that sometimes we don't we become so attached to our survival story that we don't realize we've outgrown it. And I've noticed like during my journey, I tell these stories or point out things that happened. And it shows that even I do intend on writing a book and reenacting the podcast, really is a place to share the growth or share the questions that you may have for me as I went through the process. And think about it. What if you've already survived the hardest part? What if you're standing in a season you've prayed for, but you're still living as though you're waiting for the next disaster? And I think that's where I've been the last eight years, and it was just habitual. My nervous system got you so used to scanning for danger that I forgot to look for beauty. Maybe yours has too. Maybe you become so focused on protecting your heart that you've forgotten it also meant to experience joy. Maybe you've become so good at being independent that you've forgotten it's okay to lean on someone once in a while and be appreciative of those who are willing to let you lean. Maybe you've become so good at surviving that living feels unfamiliar. If that's you, you're not failing. You're learning, and learning takes time. One thing I've noticed lately is that healing is much quieter than heartbreak. Because I know my heartbreak announced itself many times. It crashes into your life and it changes everything overnight. Healing doesn't work that way. Healing actually whispers, it shows up in moments that are easy to miss. The first morning you wake up and realize you slept through the night, it's the holiday that doesn't hurt quite as much. The first time you laugh so hard, your stomach hurts. And it's you make six plans, six plans six from months from now because somewhere deep inside of you, you finally believe you'll enjoy getting there. Healing isn't one big moment, it's a thousand tiny moments. And most of the time, you don't even notice they're happening until one day you look back and realize you're different. Not because someone fixed you, but because life kept inviting you forward and you listened. I've learned that there's some questions we'll probably never have answered. But I've stopped expecting life to answer all of them. I've started asking a different question. Now what? Now what do I do with my life and what do I want it to look like? Now what kind of person do I want to become? Because I'm achieving all these little goals. What memories do I want to create? Life isn't just about building this magazine, but I need to incorporate life, you know, the important part as well. What dreams have I been putting off because I was too busy surviving? I know I'm living it right now. Those are questions I can actually do something about, and maybe that's where freedom begins. Not in understanding the past perfectly, but in deciding the past doesn't get the right next chapter. You actually do. I know some of you listening today are right in the middle of the hardest season of your lives. And if that's where you are, I wish I could sit across from you with a cup of coffee. I wish I could remind you that your feelings aren't forever. That this chapter isn't the whole book, that the person you're becoming is being shaped, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. I remember crying so hard and saying life will never be good again. I can't promise you exactly how your story ends, and none of us can, but I can promise you this. You are more resilient than you know, not because you haven't been hurt, but because you're still here and you're listening to me and still hoping. You're still choosing to believe that tomorrow can be better than today. And hope. Hope is a powerful thing. It doesn't erase pain. It simply refuses to let pain have the final word. And before I go, I want to leave you with one final thought. A few weeks ago I stood in front of an empty magazine rack. Months earlier, I would have dreamed of seeing that. I prayed people would read what we created,

Notice The Miracle Before The Next Goal

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I prayed the community would embrace it. And there I was, looking at an empty rack that represented answered prayers. The funny thing is, I almost missed the miracle because I was already thinking about the next problem. Maybe you've got an empty magazine rack in your own life. Not literally. Maybe it's something you've prayed for, whether it's a healthier relationship, better job, a little bit more peace, a child who's finally doing okay, a home that finally feels safe. Just take a minute to notice it, really notice it and celebrate it. Thank God for it. Because if all we ever do is chase the next thing, we'll never experience the joy of the things we've already been given. I'm still learning that. Probably always will be. And maybe that's okay because life isn't about arriving. It's about paying attention while we're on the journey.