Iceland and the Continued Hunt for the Northern Lights

I have a long-standing, long-distance love affair with the Aurora Borealis. Sadly, it seems the feeling isn’t mutual. I am the pursuer in this one-sided relationship. Fortunately, I have a husband who appreciates my dreams and wants to see them come true. In fact, we even chose our honeymoon destination on the slim chance we might catch a glimpse of her. Spoiler alert: we didn’t. But the trip was still magical.

Being the thoughtful man he is, my husband planned a trip to Iceland in December, a time when the Northern Lights were predicted to be particularly active. With high hopes and warm coats, we ventured north. But, as with all things Mother Nature, she had her own plans. Our time in Iceland brought not a single snowflake, let alone the lights.

Still, the trip was nothing short of fantastic. We got to experience the unique magic of Nordic Christmas traditions, local sites steeped in history, and indulged in  Icelandic cuisine. We explored the icy beauty of an ice cave and stood in awe before real, flowing lava. It was an adventure filled with so many amazing experiences, even without the Aurora, and we only saw the the tip of iceberg (haha...see what I did there)...

While the Northern Lights remain on my bucket list, this journey reminded me of something important: sometimes, the pursuit itself is the reward. The memories we made and the places we saw on this trip were more than enough. So, I will keep chasing Aurora! 

Happy 2025!

 

As the calendar flips to a new year, I've chosen a single word to guide me: Bloom. For years, I’ve embraced the tradition of selecting a word for New Year’s reflection rather than making resolutions. But this year, I struggled to settle on just one. Too many words felt right, each capturing a piece of what I hope 2025 to bring! This morning, as I wandered through my local nursery, surrounded by - yes - blooms, the word found me. It felt like a quiet nudge, a perfect representation of what I want to see happen in 2025.

Reflecting on 2024, it has been a year - not necessarily bad, just a lot. I’ve had to say goodbye to some things and people that were deeply important to me. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t miss them every day. But, I have also found perspective, clarity, and the beginnings of long overdue and deserved healing.

Bloom is not just about flourishing; it’s about process and patience. Flowers don’t burst into full bloom overnight. They endure dark soil, unpredictable weather, and it all takes time. In many ways, I’m still in the soil stage! Growth isn’t always comfortable, but it’s always worth it. I hope to nurture seeds of joy, love, and dreams I’ve held close for so long. I’m ready to bloom in ways I have never allowed myself to truly imagine much less act upon. I am going to reach for the light, to grow strong roots, and to let beauty and my life unfold at its own pace.

To anyone reading this, I hope your year is filled with moments that remind you of your strength and potential. May 2025 bring you joy, love, and the life you dream of. Here’s to blooming - together!

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens...Ecclesiastes: 3:1 NIV

When Christmas Looks Different

I used to be a Christmas nut.  I would torture (or at least they claim) my children with Christmas songs as soon as the first hint of Fall approached.  I decorated every corner and multiple Christmas Trees.  I hosted friends, family, and neighbors. I cooked and baked with joy. I took lots of family photos and tried to pick the perfect gifts. Year round I made check lists and did Christmas crafts in preparation for my beloved season. I thoughtfully created traditions and hopefully memories for my family. I tried to keep Christ at the center of celebrations. 

So, when Christmas rolls around it feels like it should be a warm, familiar embrace. But this year, Christmas looks different; the usual routines have shifted, loved ones are far away, and life’s unexpected turns have finally wiped away the comfort of traditions and there aren’t new ones yet in place. I also know that new traditions aren’t likely to emerge any time soon, especially ones that resemble what my life-long “ideal’ of what Christmas should be.

This year, I can’t help but feel disconnected from the usual Christmas spirit. In some ways it is hard to find excitement when the season feels foreign, as if the magic has slipped through my fingers. And yet, maybe it’s okay to sit with these feelings for a while.

The familiar family gatherings, filled with laughter and the clinking of dishes, which honestly, have been slowly changing over the last few years, have now faded into quieter, smaller moments, which isn’t all bad. It’s not anger, I feel—just a deep sadness for what’s been lost. Traditions that once felt unshakable have shifted, and the absence of loved ones dull some of the sparkle of the season. Still, amidst this holiday funk, there is a quiet gratitude for the memories and a gentle hope that new traditions find their place in time. In this season of quiet there is more time to remember truly why we celebrate...the birth of a Savior.

For me, change is a hard gift to unwrap anytime, especially when it comes to family. It can feel like a loss, a reminder of what once was. It is tinged with a touch of loneliness.  Yet, I am learning there’s beauty in learning to let go—in finding joy and true meaning even when the season’s usual routines are just memories.  I think the greatest lesson a different kind of Christmas has taught me is the art of letting go. Letting go of expectations. Letting go of the need for control. Letting others chose their paths. Letting go of what was, to make room for what is and what could be. In this surrender, there is peace.

Discovering the Blue Zone: A Journey to Health and Longevity

 

As I pack my bags for a much needed adventure I will be digging into The Blue Zones Challenge! What’s a Blue Zone, you ask? Well, I first stumbled upon this fascinating concept through a Netflix documentary that opened my eyes to a lifestyle that transcends mere longevity. It’s not just about living longer; it’s about living better, thriving even.

The term “Blue Zone” refers to specific regions around the world where people live significantly longer and healthier lives than average. These areas have been studied because of their populations, who reach age 100 at rates much higher than the rest of the world. These 100 year olds aren’t just alive but they are living and embracing life.  

The documentary I watched was like a lightbulb moment for me. It revealed that the secret to longevity isn’t found in complicated diets or expensive supplements. Instead, it’s rooted in a holistic, simple way of life that prioritizes community, purpose, and natural living. 

As I looked more into the Blue Zone philosophy, I’ve come to appreciate the key principles that contribute to a long, fulfilling life:

1. Plant-Based Diet: In these regions, the majority of the diet is plant-based, focusing on whole foods like fruits, vegetables, legumes, and nuts. I love that it is about nourishment from real foods rather than supplements.

2. Active Lifestyle: Physical activity is woven into daily routines rather than relegated to the gym. Whether it’s gardening, walking, or hiking, I can do these things without expensive gym memberships or equipment.

3. Strong Social Connections: Community is paramount in Blue Zones. This is a challenge in today’s world. The Blue Zones reminder us that relationships are vital for emotional well-being.

4. Sense of Purpose: Many centenarians in Blue Zones have a clear sense of purpose, often referred to as ‘Ikigai’ in Japan. HUGE!

5. Stress Reduction: Life in the Blue Zones is often slower-paced, with rituals like napping, prayer, or simply enjoying the sunset. I am not good at this and probably one of the main reasons this concept resonated with me.  I plan to intentionally embrace moments of mindfulness and relaxation, and create more balance in my life..

I can’t help but believe that there’s something profoundly liberating about adopting this holistic approach to health. It’s not just a trend; it’s a way of life that honors our bodies, minds, and spirits. After all, life is not just about adding years to our lives; it’s about adding life to our years. Here’s to finding my Blue Zone and living my best life! 

Finding Gratitude in Every Season

Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday. These days, I’m not sure I have a favorite, but what I can say for certain is this: I love Fall. Everything about it speaks to my soul—the rich colors, the crisp air (when it finally arrives), the cozy smells, and, of course, those little glimpses of Christmas peeking through.

I don’t decorate for Halloween. Instead, I go all in for Fall. The best part? It lasts longer—straight through to Thanksgiving—and gives me an excuse to indulge in my love of pumpkins. If you’ve ever heard the phrase, “We don’t discuss the pumpkin budget,” know that it’s more than a funny quip in my house. It’s a way of life. Pumpkins are non-negotiable.

Living in the South adds an extra layer of pumpkin-related logistics. The lingering summer heat means some of my pumpkins don’t make it through the season unscathed. But even if I have to replace a few along the way, it’s a small price to pay for my personal pumpkin paradise.

This Thanksgiving was a little different. Instead of celebrating at home, I found myself at the beach, watching waves crash on the shore while sharing a meal. Not a bad trade-off, right? It gave me a moment to pause and reflect on what I want future Thanksgivings to look like.

No matter where I am, there’s always so much to be thankful for. This year, I’m simply grateful for today—the gift of now. And that’s enough.

What are you thankful for this season? 

Glitter, Grit, and Kicking Off The Holidays!

The holiday season truly is magical, isn’t it? Twinkling lights, joyful carols, and the warm, comforting scents of cinnamon and pine floating through the air. Yet, if I’m being honest, it’s also utterly exhausting - especially when your job revolves around providing holiday magic for others. The kind of exhaustion that leaves you bone-tired, wondering if you remembered to eat lunch or where exactly you misplaced your sanity. And when your busiest season is the holidays, that magical chaos can hit even harder.

For me, this time of year demands a pace unlike any other. Between hosting endless gatherings, decking every hall (except your own!) and working tirelessly to create memorable experiences for others, it’s easy to feel stretched thin. But somehow, through all the glitter and late nights, the holiday spirit persists. It’s in those fleeting moments—when you catch a glimmer of joy or hear the sound of laughter—that you’re reminded why it all matters.

If you’ve ever collapsed into bed with glitter on your hands and a mental checklist of unfinished tasks, you know exactly what I mean. Maybe your work schedule has you prepping for Christmas as early as October (or earlier—hello, that’s me!). Or maybe you’re the family’s go-to host, managing meals, décor, and everything in between. Whatever your role, it can feel like a marathon of wrapping, cooking, and finding ways to stay cheerful despite the exhaustion.

But here’s the thing: that weight we carry during the holidays? It’s part of what makes this season so extraordinary. Every tired moment is tied to something meaningful—a cherished family tradition, the joy in a child’s eyes, or the quiet satisfaction of making someone’s day a little brighter. The holiday spirit thrives on connection, generosity, and love. And even when our bodies are weary, our hearts stay full because we know it’s all worth it.

The holidays aren’t about perfection. They’re about showing up, even when you’re running on fumes, and sharing your light with those around you. So if you find yourself worn out but still brimming with holiday spirit, take comfort in knowing you’re not alone. Together, we’re creating something beautiful—a tapestry of joy, connection, and wonder, one twinkling light at a time.

So pause for a moment. Breathe in the magic of this messy, chaotic season. Let the spirit of the holidays refill your cup. You’re part of what makes this time of year so special.

Happy ChristmasGiving!

Yes, it’s only November 1st, but for me, Christmas has officially begun—at least at work! In my line of work, the holiday season arrives well before Thanksgiving, and today, we're diving full-speed into preparing for the influx of holiday visitors. 

My desk has transformed into a mini holiday workshop, with stacks of to-do lists, decorations, and planning guides scattered across it. The hustle and bustle of holiday prep may seem early to some, but here, it’s all part of the job! There’s something exciting about the early buzz of the season. It’s more than just prepping; it’s creating experiences, planning beautiful spaces, and making sure everything is set for our visitors to have a memorable time.

Here’s to early holiday cheer, festive desk setups, and the joy of planning for the most wonderful time of the year! Cheers to the holidays!

Embracing the Silver

 

I always swore I would never go  “gray-c-fully”; but here we are. Now, before you clutch your pearls and reach for a bottle of hair dye, let me walk you through the rollercoaster of emotions — and hair products — that have come with this bold decision.

Let’s start with the moment I made the decision. I was sitting on the porch, sipping sweet tea and thinking about life decisions…not.  It was actually a long period of wondering, discussions with my very adored and trusted hairdresser, and then her very heart-breaking, unexpected death that really made the decision for me.  See, after losing someone I trusted with my hair it took me a while to wrap my mind around what to do next. I would have never actually had the courage to do this, especially in the naturally, God-ordained way! But, since my all mighty creator understands that about me, he used this “what to do next period" to let glitter to shoot from my scalp faster than a cat on a hot tin roof. So, at some point, I just looked in the mirror and thought, “well, I have come this far.” After all, if Southern women are known for anything, it’s our ability go big or go home — and what’s bigger than a head full of silver? 

 

If  I am being thoroughly transparent, the true Southern drama is in the transition period (which I have seen last from a few months to a few years - if one chooses to avoid chemical assistance!) Let me tell you about this transition phase. It’s like trying to make biscuits without a recipe or a Southern Mama's guidance — messy and full of uncertainty. I started off with a lovely dream of “salt and pepper", which, let’s be honest, is more like “salt, pepper, and a whole lot of confusion.” Many days I feel like I am in a bad country music video where the singer is trying to decide if she’s going to embrace her inner grey or just drown it in dye.

And the comments! Oh, the comments! “Are you feeling okay?” “You know you can dye that, right?” and my favorite from one of my longest (notice I did not say oldest), dearest friends, "Are you doing a thing?" No, I am not "doing a thing." Yes, I know I can dye it. But can you dye my spirit? Because it’s feeling pretty liberated right now!

As the weeks are turning into months, I am beginning to embrace my new look. I am starting to see a season when I will fully channel my inner silver-haired goddess.  Though, it is challenging and I have experimented with different hairstyles to showcase my fabulous greys. A top knot here, a messy bun there. I even tried to get a little fancy with some hair accessories. Spoiler alert: if you’re going to wear a headband with grey hair, just make sure it doesn’t have sparkles. You’ll end up looking like a disco ball at a church picnic.

So here I am, a Southern woman in the prime of her life, proudly sporting my emerging silver locks. And you know what? I’ve never felt more like myself. The grey hair is a badge of honor, a symbol of all the laughter, tears, and sweet tea that have colored my life. But, I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that at least once a week I find my resolve to embrace all this glitter and sparkle wavering and a box of Autumn Burnette becomes a siren's call.

So, to all my fellow Southern belles out there considering the plunge: go for it! Embrace the glitter shooting from your head. Rock some gorgeous Paula Deen silver! You might just find that it adds a little extra sparkle to your already fabulous self — just maybe not too much sparkle. We don’t want to blind anyone at the church potluck!

Ultimately,  I’m Southern, and we pride ourselves on our resilience. I’ve survived hurricanes, humidity that could fry an egg, and all manner of flying insects. I can handle a little grey hair!  Here’s to grey hair, sweet tea, and the Southern spirit that keeps us all shining bright!

Hurricanes....

 

Growing up, I’m pretty sure I thought a hurricane was just a dramatic rainstorm. You know, like nature throwing a tantrum. But now? Hurricanes are practically on my speed dial—they’re that much a part of my life, both personally and professionally. I live about 60 miles inland from the Atlantic, so getting cozy with what a hurricane can do is kind of non-negotiable. High winds, floods, torrential rain, and the ever-terrifying threat of a tornado? It’s like nature’s horror film on repeat.

Everyone around here has their war stories—nights spent with the wind howling like it’s auditioning for a thriller, sitting in the dark, praying the roof doesn’t fly off, and just waiting for daylight. But here’s the thing about hurricanes: they don’t sneak up on you. Oh no, they’re more like the slowest, most anxiety-inducing stalker imaginable. It’s like being stalked by a Box Turtle—except this turtle comes with weather alerts and a terrifying to-do list. You’ve got plenty of time to pick up what we affectionately call Hurricane Snacks. And let’s be real, my "emergency" snacks are basically an excuse to load up on Pop-Tarts. I mean, who needs a milk-and-bread sandwich in a crisis when you’ve got frosted pastries, am I right?

Hurricanes, unlike their drama-queen cousin, the tornado, give you ample time to prep, evacuate, or settle in for a long wait. And let me tell you, the wait is the worst part. There’s this weird moment when you’re like, “Okay, can we just get this over with already?!" It’s almost like you’re impatient for chaos, which sounds insane, but here we are.

Then there’s the best part: Hurricane Parties. Yep, you heard me. I have friends with beach houses (must be nice) who treat incoming hurricanes like an excuse for a cocktail-fueled vacation. They hit the liquor store and head toward the storm, while the rest of us batten down the hatches. I will say, though, if I ever do score my own beachfront property, you better believe I’m throwing one of those infamous hurricane parties. And trust me, it’s going to be more than Pop-Tarts—though I’m not making any promises about milk-and-bread sandwiches!

Digging Deeper...Finding My Tribe and Navigating Disappointment as a Loner

If you've always been a loner, like me,  the relationships you do form can feel especially significant. When you open up and let someone into your world, there’s an expectation that the connection will be deep, authentic, and lasting. But what happens when those few people you’ve trusted turn out to be different than what you thought? Experiencing disappointment in relationships, especially as someone who values solitude, can be incredibly disheartening.

So, I have done a lot of research, praying, and trying to determine how to find my authentic tribe — people who genuinely understand and resonate with who I am.  These are steps I think we all have to go through to find those special souls to do life with and to feel safe around:

1. Acknowledge the Pain of Disappointment

When you’ve always been a loner, it’s easy to internalize the pain of disappointing relationships. I do that...I turn anger, disappointment, loneliness inward on myself and it has really challenged my ability to trust and open up with others. I always question, “What did I do?" regardless of whether I did anything or not. Opening up to someone feels like a risk, so when it doesn’t work out, it can hit particularly hard.  I am learning, ever so slowly, to  allow myself to grieve the loss of the connection, but also take heart in knowing that not every relationship is meant to last. Some people come into our lives to teach us lessons, even if they weren’t the deep, lasting connections we had hoped for.

2. Understand the Importance of Boundaries

Part of being a loner is naturally having clear boundaries with people, but when you start letting others in, those boundaries can become blurred. Disappointments often happen when someone crosses a line I didn’t know needed protecting, or when I ignored red flags because even as a loner I long for connection. I have learned healthy relationships thrive on mutual respect, and your authentic tribe will honor those boundaries without you needing to defend them.

3. Managing Expectations

One of the challenges of being a loner, who opens up to a select few. is the weight of expectation.   I am having to daily work on learning this one! I only invest heavily in a very few people, which means any misstep or disappointment can feel magnified. While it’s natural to want those close to you to be everything you imagined, it’s also important to remember that no one is perfect. That expectation is on me. Instead of seeking perfection in others, I am trying to focus on people who align with my values, support my growth, and respect my individuality.  I want to allow room for other's imperfections, just as I hope they’ll accept mine.

4. Revisit What "Authentic" Means 

I am having to determine what authentic looks like.  Is it someone who shares my passions and interests, or someone who understands and respects my need for solitude? Once I fully define what authenticity means, it will be easier to identify who fits that description and who does not.

5. Trusting MY Intuition

I am an intuitive person, or at least I used to be.  I tamped out my spirit of discernment to keep unhealthy relationships going for a long time. In this season I am having to make a conscious effort to trust my inner voice/intuition. Trusting your intuition is crucial in discovering authenticity and it is really hard if you’ve been burned in the past, it’s easy to second-guess yourself, but those instincts are valuable. I am really tuning into how people make me feel. Do I feel at ease and respected around them, or do I feel drained or misunderstood? When my gut tells me someone isn’t the right fit,  I am giving myself permission to step back, which is something I would have felt guilty about in the past.

6. Seek Smaller, Deeper Connections

For me, I have finally accepted that deep one-on-one relationships are often more fulfilling than larger social circles. Instead of trying to find a big group to join, I am focused on nurturing a few meaningful connections. Quality over quantity is a powerful mantra when it comes to finding my tribe.

7. Embrace Vulnerability

Part of finding an authentic tribe involves being vulnerable enough to show others who you truly are.  This is really hard for me.  It is scary, it feels uncomfortable, it is risky.  I am literally having to learn to be vulnerable. This doesn’t mean I overshare or open up all the time but it means making a choice to let people see the real me over time. 

Also, as a loner, I have developed a strong sense of independence, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, so I find it almost painful to share. It is about learning that it's about sharing pieces of yourself with the right people, those who will respect and reciprocate that trust. I am letting my tribe find me by showing up as my authentic self.

8. Let Go of the Past, But Keep the Lessons

I have some deep trust/abandonment issues and it is easy to carry the pain of past disappointments into future relationships, especially when those experiences have left me feeling guarded or mistrustful. But to find my  authentic tribe, I know I have to be open to new possibilities. Letting go of past hurt doesn’t mean forgetting the lessons learned; it means releasing the emotional weight so I can move forward.

Each disappointment taught me something about myself, my needs, and the kind of people I want in my life, and what kind of people I want to spend time with.  I am using these hard lessons as a guide, but trying to not let them close me off from future connections.

Summertime and Peaches

 I grew up in what is known as the Peach State but it didn't take me long to realize South Carolina actually has the best peaches. I suppose no matter where you live, fresh peaches are hard to beat. There is just something about peach season that makes me want to bake. It doesn't matter that it may be hot as blue blazes outside—if fresh peaches are on the counter, you can't risk letting them go bad, so you bake. Today, I was also lucky enough to have a nice amount of fresh blueberries, so a recipe was made.

Fresh Peach and Blueberry Cobbler

Cobbler:

• 1 stick of butter
• 1 cup self-rising flour
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 cup of milk

Fruit:

• 4 cups fresh South Carolina peaches, peeled and sliced (I blanched the peaches first to make the skin slide right off)
• 1-2 cups fresh blueberries, washed and drained
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup water
• 1 Tablespoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

Melt butter in a large, shallow casserole dish. Mix together flour, 1 cup of sugar, and milk until blended. Pour mixture over melted butter, do not stir.

Combine peaches, 1 cup of sugar and water in a saucepan.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes.  With slotted spoon, spoon peaches on top of the batter.  Sprinkle fresh blueberries on top. Add the liquid from the peach simmer and dust with cinnamon.  Bake 35 to 40 minutes until light brown.  

 

Enjoy!  

My Appalachian Elegy

Have you ever considered how the place where you grew up continues to shape you, even if you’ve moved far away and never returned? With the recent announcement of a Vice-Presidential Candidate from Ohio with roots in Kentucky, much discussion has centered around his 2016 memoir, Hillbilly Elegy. I read the book and watched the Netflix docu-drama adaptation. Opinions about it are polarized; some love it, others hate it. Many of my friends, who also have deep Southern Appalachian roots, have strong feelings about it. If nothing else, it has sparked some great discussions.

Having grown up in the mountains of Appalachia, I understand the term “hillbilly” in a way not everyone does. Some parts of Hillbilly Elegy resonated with me, while others did not. I’ve also lived in various parts of the country, and I believe some of the themes in Hillbilly Elegy—poverty, dysfunctional family dynamics, addiction issues, and educational challenges—are not unique to Appalachia. This is an important point to make. Similarly, strong family connections are not exclusive to the region nor are they present in every Appalachian family.

My Appalachian family wasn’t wealthy or impoverished,  large, or particularly close-knit, though I knew many who were. My parents weren’t uneducated nor scholars. Our family has faced struggles with addiction, but it didn’t touch my life directly. My personal hillbilly elegy would be quite different. This is the challenge when an individual’s story is seen as representative of a larger group.

Despite my Appalachian roots, most of my adult life has been spent far from those hills and the Blue Ridge Mountains. I’m now a flatlander, more coastal than mountain. The cultures are as much the same as they are different, and my ears are more accustomed to the Carolina Low Country drawl than the twang of my mountain roots. I have moments when I deeply miss my hometown, lifelong friends, and the region. But I also cherish seeing Spanish moss blowing in the breeze or a palm tree against a Carolina blue sky. These experiences are equal parts of who I am, blending to shape my identity.

Yes, the deep, unique, and rich culture of Appalachia is part of my soul, but it’s mixed with so many other life experiences. None of us can fully claim to know all the facets of what it means to be a hillbilly.

Signed, Southern Flatland Mountain Girl

Convertibles in the South

Who doesn’t love a spin in a convertible? I find it to be hugely stress-relieving and calming. But for those of you in other parts of the world who prep and put your convertibles to bed in the fall for a good six months or more until convertible weather returns, we in the South have a different routine.

Where I live, we enjoy a convertible season that lasts pretty much nine to ten months. The “off months” for us are not during the cold, winter months. Instead, our top-up time is in the dead of summer. Personally, I have been known to drive in freezing weather with the top down, wearing a heavy coat with the heater blasting. However, when it starts to feel like the backside of Satan’s toaster oven, there isn’t enough AC to keep that top down. I will keep the top down and the AC flowing until I could cook a lasagna in the passenger seat. But after that, it is no longer convertible season. I. Can’t. Roll.

So, for the next couple of months, my top-down days will be missed and very limited (maybe left for a few nighttime rides).  Though, this is a good time to tweak some of the "work in progress" and maintenance that comes with driving a vintage car...like a new clutch. I am counting down the days until I can feel that air in my hair again! Y’all up north, just know I am envying your summer rides!

Until the cooler days return, I'll be dreaming of my next top-down adventure!

Rediscovering My Voice...

I wrote my first blog post of 2024 yesterday. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t long. It was just the marking of a celebration for someone I love. But, in so many ways, it was much more. 

For years, writing was my sanctuary. I found solace in the rhythm of my thoughts flowing onto paper, the tap-tap-tap of keys as my ideas took shape. My blog was a personal haven where I could share insights, stories, and snippets of my life with a supportive community. Eventually, it even led to a paid position as a columnist, and I held a secret dream of writing the great Southern Novel one day. However, an unexpected turn of events led to a hiatus from writing. After a long break, I finally found my way back to the keyboard to share, though not so frequently. 

 As I struggled to keep the muse fed and the words flowing someone used my own blog to try to assassinate my character. It wasn't just a nasty comment by an anonymous online person, casual jab, teasing remark, or even my words. Harmless clip art, I shared as an accent to a post that discussed my personal financial journey, which was a common theme, were presented in court. Now mind you, the post – words - (in full) was not presented. But the clipart from this post was used to paint me as someone I was not. Someone who knew how much writing meant to me used it as a weapon to attempt to hurt me, and I am sure make me stop. And stop, I did. I pulled away from writing on my blog except on rare occasions. 

Fast forward several years and I would, from time to time, write a post and think of jumping back into the words until a few months ago, when someone very near and dear to me ridiculed my blog, my writing, my use of social media. The blog that once represented my voice, my history, my faith became a source of embarrassment and hurt. The sting of their judgment was sharp. I often tell myself that I shouldn't care what others think, especially when it comes to something as personal as my creative expression; but reality is different. The criticism and mockery cut deep, especially coming from someone I love - someone whose opinion mattered to me. I had hoped for support, maybe even pride in my accomplishments, but instead, I was met with ridicule and reopening of long sealed scars. 

In the aftermath, I stopped writing. The blog that had been a canvas for my thoughts and experiences lay dormant and made private, hiding almost 20 years of my life. I pulled in my personal social media use, making previously public presences private, as I felt vulnerable. I withdrew, silencing the words that had once been better than therapy. The fear of judgment, of having my words twisted and used against me, was paralyzing. Each time I considered returning to my blog, the memories of those hurtful experiences would resurface, and I'd retreat further away from the keyboard. 

But I missed the cathartic release that writing provided. I missed the community of readers who found value in my words, who connected with my stories. Slowly, I am rebuilding my confidence. It isn’t easy. I must remind myself that my blog is my space, a reflection of my journey, thoughts, and creativity. I am starting small, rediscovering the joy of writing without the pressure of an audience. 

I decided to reclaim my blog. Sharing my story—this story—for me. To anyone who has faced similar challenges, know that your voice matters. It's easy to say we shouldn't care what others think, but it's okay to acknowledge that their opinions can hurt, especially when they come from those we love. However, it's crucial to remember that their views do not diminish your worth, the value of your creative expression, or your story. 

Rediscovering my passion for writing is a journey and I don’t know where it will go. My blog is once again a space where I can be unapologetically myself…whoever that is in this season of life. It is a place where I hope I can share my truths and connect with others who find solace or humor in my experiences, my wins, my losses, my adventures, and who knows what else. I hope that by sharing this experience, I can inspire others to reclaim their voices, to continue creating despite the setbacks, and to find pride in their unique stories. Writing is more than just putting words on a page; it's a reflection of your path. No one should ever have the power to take that away from you.

Birthdays and Bourbon

This week my husband is celebrating a milestone birthday so, of course, he needed a party. It is easy when kids are little to come up with an idea or theme for a party but big people can be harder to plan for! 

He has a hobby...bourbon. He is not a heavy drinker as one might suspect of an individual whose hobby is "bourbon". Over the last year he began formally studying bourbon.  Yes, and if you didn't know, there are courses and classes you can take just on this particular subject.  He is enrolled in a program to become a Certified Bourbon Steward.  So, to say we have quite the growing bourbon collection might be an understatement, but that is a topic for another day.  As well,  he has a growing circle of "Bourbon Nerds" that he loves to get together with so a Bourbon Tasting Party it was!

We brought in an expert to lead the tasting and do somewhat of an abbreviated version of her Introductory Course.  By the way, if you are looking for some expert advice, look no further than Bourbon at Tiffany's.  It was such a fun night and I think a good time was had by all!  If you would like to see more about the party or my husband, check him out at DHB and His Bourbons.  Happy Birthday, sweet man!