For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived with anxiety.

If I had to narrow my life down to one constant, it would be food.

The word should is part of my day-to-day vocabulary, as it “should” be, but what stood out to me wasn’t how often I used it, but the context in which I was using it.

Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking differently about what it means to pause. Not as avoidance, not as stagnation, and definitely not as “doing nothing.” More like incubation.

After spending two weeks with my parents during their holiday visit, I came to two very clear realizations.

I’m not interested in declaring this “my year,” setting lofty resolutions, or pretending I’ve arrived somewhere shiny and complete.

I would be lying to myself (and to you, the reader) if I said I haven’t thought about my friendships a lot lately. It’s consumed me, actually.

Boundaries sound so clean in theory. Draw a line. Say no. Protect your energy. End scene.

I didn’t expect my marriage to get rattled in the seasonal aisle of Canadian Tire, but here we are.

I never imagined a book about waiting would feel so relevant to me, but When the Heart Waits kept meeting me where I am.

Earlier this month, on a Zoom call with my therapist, I told her about something I’d already started working on. I was excited to share it.