For years, I covered my wounds with invisible bandages, hiding the pain, patching myself just wasn't enough to get by. But survival is not the same as living. Thriving meant peeling away those bandages, facing the raw truth, and choosing healing over hiding. It's messy, but it's real. And in that honesty, I found the strength not just to survive, but to bloom.

There was a day when the weight of it all nearly broke me, when getting out of bed felt impossible and hope seemed like a distant memory. Yet in that darkness, something small, a whisper inside, a reminder that I was still here, pushed me forward. I realized survival wasn't enough. I had to choose to live, to breathe, to rise. That was the day I found my will to go on.

In this heartfelt blog post, Kathy reflects on the powerful symbolism of a rocking chair and how it became a source of healing during a difficult time in her life. After going through a painful divorce, Kathy found solace and comfort in the simple act of sitting in a rocking chair on her porch, journaling and reflecting on her journey.

Kathy unpacks the lasting impact of judgment from those closest to her – especially her adopted mother. Kathy confronts the generational silence that forced many children to suppress their truths. This powerful piece encourages readers to challenge harmful narratives, reclaim their voices, and remember that self-love is a process, not a destination.

Step into the Forbidden Room – a space built not of walls, but of silence, secrets, and survival. We both needed it, yet neither of us could breathe inside it. This blog isn't just a story – it's a mirror for anyone who's ever hidden pain behind locked emotional doors. What happens when you open that door? What truths wait on the other side? Let's find out – together.

We often speak of heartbreak as something caused by others. But what happens when we are the ones who break our own hearts? When we abandon ourselves to be everything for everyone else–until there’s nothing left? This is my letter to the woman I neglected, dismissed, and silenced. This is a letter to me. Maybe it’s a letter to you, too.

This blog post is a deeply personal reflection on the profound impact Kathy’s adopted father had on her life. Through memories of a rare, peaceful road trip they took together, she explores how he was her safe haven in a childhood filled with silence and fear. This story is a tribute to the love of a father, the power of fleeting moments, and the strength it takes to carry both joy and loss.

My mom was an incredible cook and baker. Her food wasn’t just nourishment – it was comfort. Not just for our family, but for friends, neighbors, and anyone lucky enough to taste something from her kitchen. People would request her baked goods for events, special occasions, or simply because they craved the warmth her food brought. What I didn’t realize when I was younger was that her cooking was more than a skill – it was her therapy.

Life has a way of throwing us into unexpected plot twists – the kind that leave us disoriented and questioning everything we thought we knew. My divorce was one of those twists. It wasn’t just the end of a marriage – it was the unraveling of the person I thought I was. But as painful as it was, my divorce became the catalyst for the most important journey I’ve ever taken – the journey back to me.