I was 14 when the noise began. At 16, I was formally diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). But in truth, it started years earlier irrational fears that turned into patterns, ticks, and rituals that seemed impossible to escape. In 1999, a tragedy shook my small town when a school shooting claimed the life of a classmate and church member. That loss, paired with my already anxious mind, cracked something wide open inside me. My childhood fears found a new stage, and the rituals came roaring in. For me, it was the number five. Five turns of my school locker lock. Five times touching a doorway. Five times rereading a sentence or paragraph. The logic was cruel and relentless: If I don’t do this, someone I love—or even myself—will die. It was a living hell inside my head.

Have you ever woken up and thought, “When did I stop feeling like me?” It’s not that you’re broken, you’ve just been pulled in a hundred directions. Somewhere between the expectations, the “shoulds,” and the constant giving, you misplaced the version of yourself that felt grounded, joyful, and sure of her worth. That’s why I love the idea of a self-worth reset! Honestly, how does 90 days dedicated to peeling back those layers and returning to yourself sound?  This isn’t about changing into someone new. It’s about remembering who you’ve always been and living from that space

This weekend, my dad turns 70. Seventy years of life, stories, lessons, and love. It’s such a milestone and one that fills me with excitement and pride, but also a quiet awareness of how quickly life moves by. When my mum passed away in 2022 at 67, my perspective shifted forever. I learned, painfully, that time is not promised, and love is the only legacy that truly lasts. Losing her made me hold my dad even closer, not out of fear, but out of deep appreciation for the blessing of his presence.

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I have “the patience of a saint,” I could probably treat us all to coffee and dessert. It’s funny, because while I take it as a compliment, there are plenty of moments where I don’t feel patient at all. I’ve had my share of silent “hurry up already” prayers, deep sighs, and moments where I’m tempted to roll my eyes so far back they might never return, and yet, somehow, I stick it out. I wait. I keep showing up, and honestly? That’s where the magic of patience lives.

Have you ever felt like life dropped you deep into a forest without a map, a compass, or even a decent pair of hiking boots? One moment, the path ahead feels clear and predictable… and the next, you’re tangled in the vines of “what-ifs,” “should-haves,” and “I-can’t-believes.” It can be overwhelming! The forest of life sometimes feels shadowy and endless, but here’s a little secret: it isn’t just made of darkness and unknowns. Hidden between the trees is magic, that is if you’re willing to slow down and notice it. In fact, getting “lost” in the forest of life might just be the very thing that helps you find yourself.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned lately, it’s that you can have everything you dreamed of and still have days where you feel stuck, tired, or downright unmotivated. This summer, I married the love of my life , he's honestly the sweetest soul I’ve ever known. My kids are thriving. Our home life is safe and happy. My dad lives with us, and right now, life is stable and full of love. On paper, I should be happy as a clam, and yet, from last Sunday to Tuesday this week, I was in a funk so deep that I could barely keep my eyes open after work. I still showed up to work with a smile on my face, cooked healthy meals, tidied up, and even planned a round of golf for some exercise (thank you, rain, for cancelling that one because I was DONE by 8:30 pm). I go through these waves from time to time, bursts of motivation followed by droughts where I feel like I’m wading through molasses. 

There’s a certain kind of strength that doesn’t make the news. It doesn’t get the sympathy cards or the “you’re so brave” speeches.It’s the quiet kind, the “figure-it-out-because-I-have-to” kind.

Some days you’re the sundae. Other days you’re the spoon. We all have moments when our mindset feels mushy, soggy, or a little tart. That doesn’t mean you’re failing; it means you’re human! In Pinkicing world, we don’t shame the wobble, we sweeten it.

Some people call them coincidences. I call them signs. Not always the kind you’re actively looking for but the kind that find you anyway. The ones that weave themselves into your day so unexpectedly that you can’t help but stop and smile, wondering, “Was that for me?”

I’ve been thinking a lot about rest lately. Not the “crash on the couch with Netflix” kind. Not even the “I’ll just take a nap” kind. I’m talking about the real kind of rest, the kind that reaches all the way into your bones, your nervous system, and your spirit.

After my breakup with my children’s father, I went through a period of deep self-study. It wasn’t just about “getting over” a relationship; it was about figuring out who I was, what I wanted for myself, and what I truly desired in a future partner.

A love letter to the fearless, funny, and complicated versions of us all