June 7th Will Always Be Yours, Too…

Facebook reminded me that we were friends for 11 years.

As if I could ever forget…

Jessica passed away on June 7, 2024. The same day as my birthday. A date that used to mean cake, laughter, and another year around the sun now carries something heavier. It carries her.

We had our ups and downs. Real friendship always does. But the ups? The ups were loud, joyful, ridiculously fun and unforgettable.

We went to haunted trails and houses because we both loved the thrills. Even being chased by clowns through the corn maze. Let’s not forget when the clown was so close to our faces that the one in hers licked her cheek. HAHA! We were both screaming and laughing all the way through the maze. We celebrated birthdays like they were events. We worked together for a time, side by side, sharing stories and probably a little too much laughter for a workplace.

And when I fell leaving our office and couldn’t even take care of a simple task of washing my hair, she was right there. Helping me up off the ice and back in the office for evaluation and treatment. She also came to the house and washed my hair when I physically couldn’t because of the cast from shoulder to fingertips. That’s the kind of friend she was. Not just for the fun parts but also the vulnerable parts.

Jess had a contagious laugh. The kind that made you laugh even when you didn’t know the joke. She was outgoing, warm, fiercely loving. A devoted daughter. A caring mother to her daughter, Emily. A niece. A cousin. A best friend. She was loved deeply, and she is missed just as deeply.

There are days I still reach for my phone. Days I hear something funny and think, “I have to tell Jess.” Days where grief hits sideways and reminds me that eleven years wasn’t enough.

My heart will always carry a space shaped like her.

June 7th will never just be my birthday again. It will always be the day the world lost you, too.

And I miss you more than words can say.

Grief doesn’t shrink because time passes, it changes shape.

Forever loved and missed…

The Invisible Middle Child: Present, But Not Included

Anyone ever feel that “middle child syndrome”? You know the one. The older sibling is the achiever. The youngest is the baby. And the one in the middle is… somewhere in between. Often overlooked. Often expected to adapt.

It’s not technically a disorder, just a theory. But the theory suggests middle children may become independent, secretive, rebellious, or overly agreeable, sometimes just to feel seen.

Middle children are often described as adaptable, competitive, and socially skilled outside the family. But inside the family dynamic? Many quietly carry feelings of neglect. Of invisibility. Of being less valued. Of having to earn their place at the table.

I speak as a middle child.

I have spent much of my life trying to understand where I fit. Trying to prove I belong. Trying to earn approval from parents, siblings, anyone who might validate that I matter. I’ve bent. I’ve adapted. I’ve worked harder. I’ve shown up.

And yet, even now, I find myself feeling like I’m present… but not included.

There’s something exhausting about always feeling like you have to prove your worth in your own family. Like inclusion is conditional. Like love is there, but access to it depends on staying quiet, agreeable, or useful.

For a long time, I thought if I just did more, tried harder, stayed steady, it would change.

But here’s what I’m learning at this stage of my life: The only person I have to prove anything to is myself.

I am worthy of love. I am worthy of inclusion. I am worthy of respect. And I do not have to audition for it.

They say middle children are easy-going and extroverted. I’ve always thought of myself as introverted. And yet, every personality test insists I’m extroverted. Maybe the truth is I’m both.

When I’m home, I can disappear into my own world. Books stacked high. Quiet rooms. Cats curled nearby. I can go an entire weekend without speaking to anyone outside my circle and feel perfectly content.

But put me in public, at work, in conversation, and I thrive. I connect. I laugh. I socialize. I show up fully.

Maybe that’s the middle child paradox. We learn to build rich lives outside the family because inside, we were still figuring out how to be seen.

As I get older, I’m realizing I don’t need to compete for space anymore. I don’t need to chase approval. I don’t need to shrink or overperform.

I just need to stand where I am and know it’s enough.

Invisible no more. Even if some people never update the role they assigned me.

When You’re the One Who Stayed

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being the one that stays.

The one who shows up, the one that rearranges their life, the one who takes on responsibility quietly while conversations happen elsewhere; behind your back.

Lately, I’ve felt the urge to shutdown, to shut the world and people out. Not disappear, not give up, just… go quietly. Pull the blinds and preserve what energy I have left.

I am caring for my parents right now. Dad broke his leg during the winter storm we had and mom has her own physical challenges. I work two jobs which I am blessed that work with me allowing me the time away and to work remotely. I have a partner, friends and still, I feel profoundly alone in ways that are hard to explain without sounding ungrateful.

Family dynamics have a long memory.

My sister, the oldest, naturally takes over. That role solidified long ago. Decisions, conversations, updates, all happening around me instead of with me. Even now, when I am physically present, helping, doing the work, I am often treated like an afterthought.

My brother and I haven’t really had a conversation in 24 years. That isn’t a typo. Two decades of silence doesn’t happen overnight. It settles slowly, until it becomes “normal,” even when it shouldn’t be. Sadly over something that happened when I was married and don’t remember the context of what was said.

I’ve tried to say this out loud. I’ve said it gently. I’ve said it plainly. Every time, I’m met with shutdown, dismissal, or being made to feel like I’m the problem for noticing the problem.

And somehow, the sting that hurts the most isn’t just being excluded. It’s watching people loop in the past with my present. It makes you question where you actually belong.

I miss my cats. That sounds small, but it isn’t. They’re my quiet, my grounding, my reminder of home. When you’re stretched thin, the things that comfort you matter more, not less.

This season of life is heavy. It’s caretaking and grief and old wounds brushing up against new responsibilities. It’s realizing that being strong doesn’t mean being supported.

I’m not writing this for sympathy. I’m writing it because silence has been my role for too long, and silence is expensive. It costs peace. It costs clarity. It costs parts of yourself you don’t get back easily.

If you’re reading this and you’re the one who stayed, the one that showed up, the one who feels invisible while holding everything together, you’re not imagining it. And you’re not weak for feeling worn down.

sometimes the bravest thing you can do is say: “This hurts.”

And let it be true.

Winter Comfort: Embracing Cozy Days Indoors

Good morning from a day wrapped in ice and snow. The roads are impassable, the cold is sharp enough to make a point, and the outside world has officially been put on pause.Inside, though, things are exactly right.

Soup beans are simmering low and slow on the stove, filling the house with that familiar comfort that only winter cooking brings. Cornbread is waiting patiently for later this afternoon. The coffee is brewed, and I am fully caffeinated, which feels essential for survival at this point.

The cats have full bellies and have taken up their posts in the window seats, watching the snow fall like tiny, judgmental weather anchors. Occasionally they twitch a tail. No notes from them so far.I’m curled up under layers with the largest book I have ever attempted to hold, Alchemised. It’s heavy in the hands and rich in atmosphere, the kind of story that feels right on a day when the world goes quiet and time stretches out a little slower.

This is one of those rare winter days where slowing down isn’t a choice, it’s a gift. Warm food. Warm coffee. Content cats. A massive book. Snow drifting past the windows.Exactly where I’m supposed to be.

A Quiet Friday Before the Snow ❄️

There’s something comforting about a Friday when the forecast gives you permission to slow down.

It’s cold today, and the snow is expected to start sometime Saturday and linger through Monday morning. Enough time to settle in. Enough time to not rush anything.

This kind of weekend doesn’t ask for productivity. It asks for warmth. For staying home. For movies playing in the background while a book waits nearby. For meals that don’t need to impress anyone, just fill the house with good smells.

I’m looking forward to the simple things. Thick blankets. Hot drinks. Pages turning. Stories unfolding. Letting the world be quiet for a little while.

There’s no urgency in weekends like this. No pressure to go anywhere or do anything extraordinary. Just the steady comfort of being exactly where you are, while winter does its thing outside.

Tonight will feel like the beginning of that pause. A soft landing into the weekend.

If you’re settling in this weekend too, I hope it’s warm and unhurried.

📚Books for a Snowy Weekend
📖A slow-burn novel you’ve been saving “for when you have time”
📖A familiar favorite you’ve already loved once
📖Short essays or reflective reads you can dip in and out of
📖Anything that pairs well with a blanket and zero interruptions.

🎬Movies for Staying In
🎞Comfort movies you’ve seen enough to quote
🎞A moody winter drama or mystery
🎞Something light that doesn’t require emotional stamina
🎞One background movie that plays while you read

What Makes a Good Leader?

I see this question come up a lot, usually followed by buzzwords and polished answers that sound nice but don’t actually mean much in real life. For me, leadership has never been about titles or authority. It’s about behavior.

Leads by Example:

They don’t ask others to do things they wouldn’t do themselves. They show up, follow the same rules, and take responsibility when things go sideways. People notice that, even when they don’t say it out loud.

Listens

Not the kind of listening where someone is just waiting for their turn to talk, but real listening. The kind where people feel heard instead of managed. When someone knows their voice matters, they tend to show up differently.

Sets the tone:

How they handle stress, conflict, mistakes, and success tells everyone else what’s acceptable. Calm creates calm. Respect creates respect. Chaos… well, that spreads too.

Empathy:

Not the performative kind, but genuine empathy. Understanding that people are human first, employees or followers second. Life doesn’t pause when someone clocks in, and the leaders who remember that tend to earn loyalty instead of demanding it.

Final thoughts:

Leadership isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being consistent, accountable, and aware of the impact you have on others. The best leaders I’ve known didn’t need to announce themselves. You just felt safer, more confident, and more capable around them.
That’s what leadership looks like to me.

Your thoughts matter too:

I’m curious what leadership looks like to you. What qualities made the biggest difference in a leader you’ve known?

Magical Ways to Pamper the Body & Spirit Self-Care, Witchy Style for the Book-Loving Soul

There is a quiet kind of magic in slowing down. Not the flashy, spell-casting kind. The kind that lives in warm mugs, candlelight, dog-eared pages, (just kidding I don’t dog-ear pages), and the deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Witchy self-care is not about perfection or aesthetics. It’s about tending to th ebody and spirit with iintention, softness, and a little old-world wisdom. Add books into the mix and suddently rest becomes ritual.

Section 1: Creating a Witchy Self-Care Ritual (foundation)

🌿Creating a Witchy Self-Care Ritual:

Ritual turns ordinary care into something saccred. It doesn’t need tools, spells, or a full moon. It needs intention. Choose a time of day when the world feels quieter. Light a candle, set aside your phone. Pick one small act and treat it as enough.

Section 2: Candle Magic for soothing the Spirit

Candle🕯Magic for Soothing the Spirit.

Candle magic is one of th eoldest and simplest forms of grounding. Flame steadies the nervous system and gives the mind something geentle to focus on. Candl color suggestion:
White – calm and
Green – healing, renewal and abundance
Purple – intution and spiritual rest

Light your candl, place your hands near the warmth, and take three slow breaths. let the flame remind you that stillness can be powerful.

Section 3: Herbal & Tea Magic (gentle & grounded)

🍵Herbal Comfort for Body & Spirit

Herbs don’t rush. They teach patience. A warm cup of tea can be a spell all on its own.
Suggestions:
Chamomile for rest
Peppermint for clarity
Lavender for emomtional ease
Rosemary for

Stir your tea clockwise for comfort, counterclockwise for release. Sip slowly, read a page or two between breaths.

Section 4: Crystals & Gems (No pressure, No perfection)

💎 Crystal & Gem Energy for Evereyday
Crystals aren’t about belief. They’re about sybolism and intention. Holding something solid reminds teb body it is supported.

Easy Companions:
Amethyst – calm and
Rose quartz – gentleness and compa
Smoky quartz – grounding and

💎 Crystal & Gem Energy for Evereyday
Crystals aren’t about belief. They’re about sybolism and intention. Holding something solid reminds teb body it is supported.

Easy Companions:
Amethyst – calm and
Rose quartz – gentleness and compa
Smoky quartz – grounding and

💎 Crystal & Gem Energy for Evereyday
Crystals aren’t about belief. They’re about sybolism and intention. Holding something solid reminds teb body it is supported.

Easy Companions:
Amethyst – calm and
Rose quartz – gentleness and compa
Smoky quartz – grounding and

💎 Crystal & Gem Energy for Evereyday
Crystals aren’t about belief. They’re about sybolism and intention. Holding something solid reminds teb body it is supported.

Easy Companions:
Amethyst – calm and
Rose quartz – gentleness and compa
Smoky quartz – grounding and release

Hold the stone while reading or place it near your book stack. Let it be present. Nothing more required.

Section 5: Bibliophile Magic (Because Books are Sacred)

📚 Bibliophile Self-Care Ritual:

Books are spells that last longer than candles Reading slows the mind and gives the spirit somewhere safe to rest.

Ideas:
Read poetry aloud by candlelight
Choose a comfort book for hard days
Annotate passages that feel like truth
Keep a “witch’s commonplace book” for quotes and reflections

Reading is rest. Reading is magic. Anyone who says otherwise has never needed a book to survive a season.

Section 6: Breathing & Meditation (Simple, Human, Effective)

🌬 Breathwork for Grounding

Breath is the most accessible magc there is. No tools and no setup.

Simple practice:
Inhale for 4
Hold for 4
Exhale for 6

Repeat while holding your book closed against your chest. Let you body learn that it is safe to rest.

In closing (soft landing)

Witchy self-care or self-care in general is not another thing to master. It’s remembering that care does not have to be earned. It can be quiest. It can be small, it can look like tea, candlelight and a few pages read slowly. Tend your spirit likeyou would a beloved old book, with patience, reverence and love.

Coffee Time and Moon Light Vibes: Which One Is Your Golden Hour

Daily writing prompt

What’s your favorite time of day?

View all responses

There’s a certain magic ✨️ tucked into both beginnings and endings.

Some people come alive with the first sip of coffee, when the world 🌎 is still stretching into wakefulness. Others, like me, find their soul in the silver hush of moonlight. This happens long after the noise of the day has settled.

We all have what I like to call a golden hour. It is not the kind you catch in photographs. It is a time when everything aligns quietly within us. A time when we feel most like ourselves.

Coffee ☕️ Time: The Ritual of Rising

There’s something sacred about early morning. The light is soft. The air still carries the echos of dreams. The world 🌎 hasn’t yet demanded anything of you.

For the early risers, coffee ☕️ time is more than caffeine– it’s a moment of intention. A ritual. A quiet promise to start again.

It’s the rustle of the newspaper. It’s the click of the spoon 🥄 against ceramic. It’s the comforting warmth of a mug cradled in two hands. It’s potential, productivity, possibility– the energy that nudges you gently ahead.

🌙Moonlight Vibes: The Quiet That Speaks

But for me, it’s the moonlight.

There’s a softness to the night that I’ve always been drawn to. The day has had its say. The world 🌎 has slowed and the sky has changed. Then, something in me exhales.

Moonlight 🌙 doesn’t demand your attention the way sunlight does. It doesn’t shine; it glows. Subtle. Steady. There’s a quiet companionship in it that speaks to the deepest parts of me– the reflective, the tender, the tired.

In those late hours, thoughts feel clearer. Emotions feel deeper. The world 🌎 feels like it finally makes a little sense. It’s the hour when the noise fades, and I can finally hear myself again.

Somewhere Between: The Sunset 🌅Bridge🌁

And then there’s sunset 🌅 — my bridge 🌁 between both worlds🌎.

That golden blur of color across the sky is the universe’s way of slowing down time. It’s perfect in-between: not quite day, not quite night. A warm farewell to what’s been, and a gentle welcome to whatever’s coming next.

I sometimes sit with a warm drink ☕️ or one over ice 🥃. I watch the sky change. I see the sun ☀️ dipping. It feels like the truth.

So what’s your golden hour?

Maybe you thrive in the hush of dawn, when the world is yours and yours alone. Maybe you bloom under starlight 🌠, where things feel quieter and more true. Or maybe your golden hour shifts with the seasons of your life.

Whatever it is, I hope you notice it. I hope you savor it.

It’s not just about time ⌚ on a clock 🕰. It’s about the space in your soul where peace lives. The moment when you feel most awake, most inspired, most grounded. Most you!

✨️🌙So tell me… coffee time or moonlight vibes – which is your golden hour?✨️

The Journey of a Hot Mess Express: From Olive Oyl to Resilient Woman

If you’d asked me in 1989 what my future looked like, I’d probably have said something optimistic, holding a slice of pizza and weighing a mighty 99 lbs. They used to call me Olive Oyl—tall, lanky, and totally unaware of what life had planned.

The truth? Life had a lot planned.

My body changed. First baby in 1995? 8 lbs. 11 oz and ten days late. The weight gain was no joke, and neither were the cruel comments from others. My confidence took a nosedive. Enter Phentermine (then called Fastin), the diet pill that made food repulsive and sleep nonexistent. It worked fast — too fast. I dropped under 110 lbs. and felt like a jittery ghost.

Then came my second son in 2002, three weeks early and weighing in at 9 lbs. 7 oz. I hit my highest weight ever in my life, a whopping 193 + lbs. and even I was shocked, considering I lived on salads. Add postpartum depression, marital issues, and a cross-county move into the chaos cocktail.

Between 2002 and 2009, I slowly started fighting back—walking 5 miles per day, sometimes 10, entering 5 Ks, and returning to the working world. When the divorce was final in 2011, I was emotionally exhausted and mentally drained, but I was free! That freedom gave me energy again. I even got this wild notion to return to school at 43. What on earth was I thinking at that time? I tell you what I was thinking, I was trying to inspire my sons and be a role model that you are never too old to learn a new path. That is exactly what I did. I obtained my associate’s degree in applied science in Paralegal Studies. I lost my grandmother just after I graduated from Sullivan U. I hadn’t spoken with some of my family in 14 years; it gave me anxiety thinking I had to come face-to-face with my family that I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. I had one son, the youngest, who was 14 and had never met his grandparents or anyone else in the family. But I went and was actually relieved because my dad and I worked through our issues and let the past remain in the past and moved forward.

Fast forward, I fell, literally. On ice. Broke my radial head, a.k.a. elbow. Juggled full-time work, night school, and recovery. Got up and boom fell again, one and a half months later, breaking my leg on Derby Day, just days before starting my new job. OH, and was diagnosed with RA, fibromyalgia and a vitamin D deficiency all in the same week.

And yet, I kept going.

Somehow, I learned to drive with my left foot (don’t tell my doctor), showed up to work on crutches, and leaned on my friends, family, and stubbornness to get me through this situation. Over time, I have rebuilt my relationship with my father, stepped into state government, and found the best job I’ve ever had with the Cabinet for Justice and Public Safety Department of Kentucky State Police.

Along the way, I have tackled ADD, depression, anxiety, a mountain of broken bones, and the ghost of bullies past. I’ve been belittled, dismissed and underestimated — by strangers and by people I loved.

But here’s the part I’m proudest of: I am still here!!

Still trying
Still working on healing, therapy, and a better relationship with food
Still sarcastic, sweaty, and sometimes struggling… but stronger.

Today, I got on the scale… 139.6. I had to double-check it with my glasses — which, yes, were already on my face.

This journey hasn’t been glamorous. It’s been messy, painful, hilarious, heartbreaking, and empowering.

I’m 57, I have sunspots, a bony tailbone, a love/hate relationship with water, and a new obsession with electrolytes and bananas. And yes, I’m still fighting those “weighty” demons — but I have also learned this:

Never let anyone sit at your table who makes you question your worth.
You’re not too old, too broken, or too late to begin again.

#realtalk #resilience #bloglife #weightlossjourney #FibromyalgiaWarrior #LifeAfterDivorce #WomenOver50 #SelfWorth #ScrewTheScale