There’s a certain kind of stillness that hits differently - especially when the ocean is roaring behind you. It’s not quiet, not even close. But it’s peaceful. Grounding. And sometimes, it’s in those loud, crashing moments of nature that we hear ourselves the clearest. I’m sharing this moment again because it still speaks to me. And maybe it will speak to you, too.
Almost three years ago, before I lost my husband - my best friend, my partner of nearly 30 years, and the incredible father to our two daughters - I made a quiet promise to myself: to get healthy. At the time, it was a personal goal. I just wanted to feel better in my body. I wanted to have more energy, sleep better, protect my mental health, etc.. I didn’t know then that this decision would become the very thing that carried me through the most painful season of my life.
When grief came, everything else in my world changed - but those small daily habits remained. And in the chaos of it all, those daily habits of mine became anchors. Every walk, every stretch, every nourishing meal, every intentional breath… they weren’t just routines. They were lifelines. They helped me heal not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
This journey has since become something bigger than me. My daughters and I now move through this together - working out, cooking, and keeping each other motivated in the most loving ways. We’re not chasing perfection but instead we’re rebuilding. Together. Day by day, choice by choice. And what I’ve learned - what I feel in my bones - is that health isn’t about how you look. It’s about how you live. It’s about showing up, even when it’s hard. It’s about presence. About choosing to be here, fully and wholly - for the people you love, and for yourself.
If you’re in a season of grief, or a transitional time in your life, or even just feeling stuck - I want you to know that healing can start small. It can start with a walk. A stretch. A few minutes of quietness on the mat. A deep breath you actually pay attention to. These moments matter. More than you know.
You don’t have to do it alone. In fact, you’re not supposed to. Healing is messy, nonlinear, and beautifully human. But with care, with movement, with intention - there is a way through. So maybe today is the day you take that first step. Or maybe it’s the day you begin again. Either way, I hope you give yourself the grace to start. Because you're worth showing up for. And your journey - just like mine - might be the beginning of something stronger than you ever imagined.
