There are parts of the past I find myself revisiting because I never want to forget the memory of how a specific moment made me feel.

I can listen to songs from when I was younger and feel myself pulled back to the nostalgic comfort my childhood held. Whether it’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt (one that was constantly blaring through my parents’ speakers and arguably the saddest love song there is), or “Your Song” by Garth Brooks (the first song I ever learned to sing with my mom), each one brings me right back to that simple, carefree time in my life.

I think about all the people who shaped my journey, for better or worse. The ones who pushed me to grow, especially when it was anything but comfortable. The ones who taught me something I never knew about myself, exposing vulnerabilities and cracking pieces of me open to reveal hard truths I didn’t know how to face at the time.

And the people who left shortly after they arrived, the ones who didn’t realize how much their short presence altered parts of me forever.

Then there’s of course, separate spaces for the people I never imagined I’d have to let go of. The ones who had an inevitable expiration date in my life, yet the bigger part of me kept wanting to hold on as a way to preserve the memories and times I never wanted to lose.

I look at time as a sense of passage, where memories become split into two compartments: the person we are before, and who we become after. Almost as if it’s a line marked in the sand, clearly separating one side from the next.

The past feels like a slippery slope at times. And if we’re not careful, we’ll remain stuck at the bottom without a way to climb back out of it.

Which leads to the questions: why do we hang on so tightly? Is it the pieces of ourselves we don’t want to give up, the fear of what the space looks like when we let go, or because a part of us wonders if what we once had was better than what’s ahead?

I’ve asked myself those questions a lot the last year. The irony of wanting to move forward, yet feeling stuck in the middle, is knowing you’re looking through a foggy lens without clarity on how to clear what’s in front of you.

I wrote the journal entry I shared at the beginning sometime last summer, when I was in the thick of grief. It was such a surreal emotion, and when I talk about being pulled back into old feelings, my heart physically aches remembering exactly how I felt. Almost like when you come across a familiar scent that places you right in the middle of an old memory that you didn’t even realize was still tucked away in your mind.

The train reference made me feel like I was standing in the middle of a station, watching people get on and off as they headed toward their destinations while I stayed glued to the same spot.

Time has a way of standing still when we’re begging for it to keep passing by. And it often seemed like everyone else’s life kept moving forward while mine was looping over and over without an ending in sight.

Holding on became this constant push-and-pull of wanting to let go, knowing I needed to let go, but feeling so unsure where that would lead me. Would that mean I’d forget what I wanted to remember? Would I feel a sense of shame for letting go, because that would mean moving on? Was there a way to carry and let more than one feeling walk alongside each other?

We hold onto the past because it becomes a security blanket of comfort. It gives us a sense of peace revisiting everything we didn’t want to lose, the memories and moments we hold tightly, and the times we truly felt were ‘the good old days’.

But the trap of living in the past is that, more often than not, we struggle to accept that our own minds keep us stuck in our thoughts. Or, as The Eagles put it: "So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key."

I’ve come a long way from the person I was a year ago. And I’ve fought hard to be where I am today. When I re-read my journal entry, it made me think about how much we stay in the past, even when we don’t belong there anymore.

I recognize who I once was, but I don’t envy that version of myself.

The past isn’t meant to be the place we reside, the present is. There’s so much more waiting for us in the future. But we’ll never reach our destination ahead if we keep staying stuck in what’s already happened.

Life is a series of lessons. Some come when we least expect it, while others overlap and keep repeating themselves until we’re able to take what we need from them to grow.

We learn more about ourselves when we have the faith to let go, to keep trusting that what’s ahead is far better than what we leave behind. It’s not meant to be an act of forgetting. But a hope to remember the choices that we made in the past shaped the way for everything that’s to come in the future.

Even if you’re in the middle of a season you can’t understand, a place you didn’t want to arrive at or a club you never thought you’d be in, more than one feeling can exist at once. And they often do.

It’s okay to hold space for grief, while letting joy overpower it. Or stepping forward with faith, yet still finding yourself having moments of doubt and realizing that some days might be harder than others. Letting go happens little by little, and you don’t have to let go all at once. Because more often than not, you won’t be able to.

The feeling of comfort will come from realizing you aren’t holding onto the pain any longer, only fragments in your memory of the person you were and the version of yourself you’ll never forget. The one that taught you how much strength you hold, and the part of yourself that kept going even when no part of you knew how.

The irony of being in the place you wanted to be all along, is that one day, you’ll look back and wonder how you got there. When you least expect it, you’ll find yourself anxious to get on the next train, ready to embrace what’s waiting for you ahead in your journey.

You’ll have a deep sense of knowing that every moment that brought you here was more than worth it in the end, because you never want a single second of your life to pass you by. And only then, will you realize, your past doesn’t need you anymore. But your present does.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

Maybe it’s because summer feels like it comes as quickly as it goes, between endless plans and packed weekends, all while trying to enjoy every moment as much as possible. I’ve said before how spring is the best time of the year, but summer is easily a close second.

Overall, June was a pretty productive month. I did a lot of writing, which I’m super thankful for. I mentioned before how this winter felt hard to keep up with, especially because there were so many days I was simply just trying to get through.

I’ve found a good balance between writing for my website (Truth Within Silence), and writing more content here. Even though I’m still in the growing stages on Substack, it’s been so nice having a different platform to focus on.

I enjoy the simplicity on this app, and being a part of a community that is encouraging and so creative. I’ve also worried less about SEO, which has taken a lot of pressure off deciding what will perform best to please the algorithm.

Treating it more like a personal diary weirdly shifted my mindset to write more freely about what I want to create, and less obsessing over if I’m doing enough or writing about the “right things”.

This last month I’ve also thought a lot about freelance writing again. I dedicated a chunk of my time to researching articles I want to write and what publications I should pitch to.

Each one is so specific, but I know from my experience of pitching in the past it’s not something I should overthink too much. Hopefully I’ll have some updates on that within the next couple of months!

One thing I’m not happy about from June is that I still haven’t made it to the beach yet. The weather honestly wasn’t the best the last couple of weeks, but we’re supposed to have a few 90 degree days coming up so hopefully I’ll get in a few beach days. (Also how is it possible the fourth is already right around the corner?!).

What brought me joy:

• our cute hanging basket. 🌸 This is probably the longest I’ve kept one alive, thanks to my husband too 😂

• reconnecting with old friends. Life gets busy but I’m so grateful for the friendships that pick up right where they left off

• my summer decor! I don’t have a lot of stuff for the fourth but these lights always make me happy:

Moments I don’t want to forget:

• last minute plans. I actually live for this 😂 and was just talking with somebody the other day how some of the best days are the ones that aren’t planned!

• hanging out on our back deck. Whether it was reading in the sun (obsessed with our gravity chairs), or watching our cat Oakley try and chase after the birds and squirrels, I always look forward to relaxing out there when I can.

• seeing multiple rainbows 🌈. It’s such a symbol of hope for me and brings me so much peace every time I see one.

What I read 📖, watched 📺, and listened to 🎧:

Read 📖:

• The Wedding People by Alison Espach. This was a book club pick, and it was a hard one for me to get through. I know a lot of people enjoyed it (and overall it had pretty good reviews so I’m the outlier here), but for some reason it just didn’t click with me. 2/5 ⭐⭐

• I’m also in the middle of reading The Wish by Nicholas Sparks and This Summer Will Be Different by Carley Fortune. I wanted to switch it up from my usual thriller reads, and I couldn’t remember the last time I read something by Nicholas Sparks so I thought I’d give that one a try. Plus I had to buy this other book I saw in Target because how cute is this?!? Looked like the perfect summer read!

Watched 📺:

• took the nephews to watch Toy Story 5!! (and let’s be honest, I would’ve watched it regardless). So cute, but I have to say, my favorite is still the first and third one.

• I Will Find You on Netflix. I kept seeing this pop up everywhere, and I shouldn’t have started it at night because I had to watch the second episode after it left off on a cliffhanger 🙈. It’s only one season and I’m on the last two episodes, so hoping I can squeeze in time to finish watching it this week.

• dragging out watching my last few episodes of Friends 😢. I already know I’m going to be sad when it’s over. Let me know in the comments any comfort TV shows you enjoy, I need something to watch next!

Listened to 🎧:

• still following along to Father Mike’s A Year in the Bible on Apple Podcasts. This month we read Judges, Ruth, and now in Samuel.

How I took care of my mental health:

• stayed pretty consistent with my workouts!! I’ve still preferred the treadmill lately, mainly doing a variety of walking workouts, but hoping to start running again soon.

• journaled a lot more

• shifted my sleep schedule a little bit. I honestly think working out a lot more has helped me sleep better and I haven’t been waking up as much throughout the night which I’m thankful for 🙏🏼

What I’m carrying into July:

• meal prepping. I follow MaKayla Thomas on Instagram and a lot of food I made this last month was inspired by her posts. I’m not one who loves spending time in the kitchen but her meals are simple and delicious!

• savoring the little moments. Especially enjoying the fact that the sun doesn’t set until after 9 pm, I wish it was that way all year long 🥺

• prioritizing my peace, no matter what that looks like

Some links in this post might be affiliate links. If you purchase a product or service with the links provided, I may receive a small commission (with no extra cost to you!).

I appreciate you reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

I looked for relief in anything that was supposed to make me feel better: comforting words that brought validation, journaling to provide a release, a ‘simpler’ self-care routine, and the promise we’re told about time, hoping that the faster it passes, the more back to ourselves we’ll feel.

Healing isn’t dependent on any single thing, except knowing it doesn’t happen all at once.

If anything, it comes scattered in fragments. It shows up in the moments when we’re unapologetically ourselves, and it silently reveals itself in the ways we’ve changed because of what we went through. Not when we rush or force things to be different, or when we set unrealistic expectations about what healing the innermost parts of us is “supposed to look like.”

When we go through one life-altering moment after another without even having time to recover from the first, we start to feel like we’re on autopilot.

Our central nervous system becomes heightened. We feel fear over faith and worry instead of trust. Not because we want to, but because our bodies look for patterns. It remembers, and before we realize it we’re subconsciously preparing ourselves for what’s next before we had time to process what already happened.

Two months before my mom went into respiratory arrest this past December, I wrote this in my journal:

“I’ve had a lot of heavy emotions lately and feel lost in the expectations of where I ‘think’ I should be. I’m a person who just tries to keep pushing forward, without giving myself a break to process how I’m feeling or make sense of it all.”

My grief felt layered last year, and while half the time I let myself feel it, there was another part of me that felt behind because of it. It’s almost as if there was failure attached to grieving itself, especially admitting that I wasn’t where I thought I should be.

The problem with continually pushing ourselves in a season that only asks us to be still is we start thinking that we aren’t healing properly if we aren’t moving on in a specific time frame. As if there’s some sort of list that we have to properly check off each box, and if we don’t, then we’re convinced it must be because we’re falling short or not moving on ‘fast enough’.

The day after everything happened with my mom, there was a lot that shifted within myself. When you’re faced with the reality that any given moment could change the course of your life forever, it makes you realize that nothing matters except the few things that matter a lot.

We aren’t meant to live constantly on edge, as if we’re only waiting for what life might throw at us next. The irony of me writing about how I was forcing myself to move forward is that I had no idea how much my strength would need to carry me in the months ahead.

Even though there were days when it felt like one heavy brick kept piling on top of another, I learned the only way to lessen the weight was to lift them off one by one. Readjusting and rebuilding took time, and these were the simple, gentle ways that helped me discover the person I was becoming and shifting into through it all:

1. Focus on one thing, not everything

Burnout happens when we push past our limit without taking a second to catch our breath. When you mix that in with a season that you’re simply trying to get through, you quickly realize you can’t force yourself to do everything like you used to.

A question I kept coming back to was, “what will help me feel the best mentally?” I found that it wasn’t overloading my schedule from the second I woke up to when I went to sleep, but lessening expectations even in smaller increments.

Maybe this looks like making your bed when you first wake up, drinking more water, or working out for 20 minutes instead of an hour (because we’re not only productive when we push ourselves as much as we can). You don’t have to focus on everything, but one thing that’ll ground you and bring you closer to feeling better mentally.

2. Rest, rest and more rest

Rest doesn’t only come in the form of getting a full night of sleep. It can look like cancelled plans, saying “no” without guilt, and putting your mental health first if you aren’t okay with something or ready for it like you thought you were.

I love the quote: “Take a break before your body takes it for you”. While I’m a person who needs to recharge their battery rather quickly (even when I’m not going through a hard season), it’s a reminder to pause before the point of burnout.

Adding more to your plate only intensifies unnecessary stress, and it’s important to make relaxing a priority without the pressure of always doing more.

3. Reconnect with a more carefree version of yourself

A helpful distraction I’ve found for dealing with burnout is re-watching old comfort TV shows and movies, listening to music that brings me back to simpler times, and even reading books that I used to love. Reconnecting with a more carefree version of who we are reminds us that even when we’re in a hard season, it doesn’t mean things will always be this way.

Some of the shows/music that brought me comfort were: Full House, Legally Blonde, Parent Trap, Sex and the City, Degrassi (and anything with Tim Allen!!). There’s something so comforting about watching something that makes us laugh or reminds us of the good memories from our past.

4. Be aware of your triggers and set boundaries

The only person who knows what’s best for your mental health is you. When we’re caught in the back-and-forth cycle between survival mode and burnout, we naturally dismiss boundaries or overlook what triggers us because we’re already carrying so much as it is.

But when we say yes to the things we want to say no to, we only create more problems than what we started with. I look back on situations I agreed with just to keep the peace, and realized how it only ended up hurting me even more in the end.

It’s okay to take a break from anything that triggers or drains your energy by setting firm boundaries. I’ve been stepping away from social media more and more (I know, ironic with pursuing online writing), but I know it was harming me more than helping. Never feel guilty for protecting your mental health, even if it means temporarily disconnecting from people, places, or things.

5. Give yourself patience, even when it feels like you’re taking a step backward

I’m not out of the woods in my own healing journey, and I often have to remind myself that it’s not a race. While there are still pieces I’m trying to connect and make sense of, one of my biggest takeaways has been learning how to be patient with myself throughout the process.

On the days you only have 10 percent to give, and you still give that full 10 percent, it’s just enough as the days you’re operating at 100. Even if you have a hard day mentally, notice your small wins: facing the day even when you want to do the opposite, crying instead of holding it all in, or even writing out your emotions without holding back.

Healing isn’t one big breakthrough. It’s found in surviving the moments you thought you couldn’t, showing up when it feels impossible and giving yourself grace when it feels like you’re taking a step backward instead of forward. Especially when you find a deep reassurance knowing you won’t feel this way forever.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

After our prayers, she would hug me tight and tell me that God has a special plan for my life. Each time, without fail, I’d ask her what it was. But her response was always the same: “I’m not sure, you’re going to have to wait and see.”

Even though I couldn’t understand why I had to wait (especially since my next question was usually asking her, well how long until I find out?), I still trusted her words. Through so many difficult seasons in my life, I strongly believed that one day, I’d finally have the answers to all my endless questions.

The last year and a half was harder than I ever could’ve anticipated. Or, as one of my closest friends put it, “a rollercoaster that I’m sure you’d like to get off of.”

I struggled to see what was in front of me, and was faced with the same questions over and over: How can I continue trusting my path when I can’t see what’s ahead? What does it look like to surrender, to rely solely on faith, not on what’s seen but what I know to be true?

The irony of strength is that it causes you to feel the exact opposite. When I picked the word ‘resilience’ in January to live by throughout the year, I never knew how much I’d need to lean on it.

I look at mental strength the same way I see it in the physical sense: it takes time to build endurance and to bounce back faster than you did before. And even when it feels like you’re taking a step backward, every time you try again is proof that your strength is building in ways you can’t see yet.

But the question underneath it all, still remains. How do we keep trusting our path when it’s unclear? When we feel like we’re going around the same mountain over and over again, without an ending in sight?

Trust isn’t found in answers, it’s found in learning how to let go of control.

We cling so tightly to clarity because we think an explanation will help us accept our circumstances or prepare us for what comes next.

I look back on some of the hardest times in my life and realize that even if I found the answers as to why it was happening, it wouldn’t have changed anything. It never would’ve magically brought me from the place I was, to where I desired to be.

That’s the hardest part about the middle. We don’t want to sit with the pain, with the hurt, with every question we can’t find an answer to. We ache for what’s missing by trying to gain control, hoping it’ll guide us toward an outcome.

Trust isn’t found when we finally reach the end or when the full picture reveals itself. It’s found in accepting that we won’t always be able to see what’s next.

We aren’t meant to figure out each part of our journey. Our trust lies in knowing that every moment of hurt, pain, and redirection is necessary to bring us to the next part of our path, even when the timing doesn’t make sense.

You won’t always be in this place.

Another hard reality to accept about the middle. Your mind tries to convince you that you’ll always be in the same place you are now. Because when you keep facing one hard obstacle after another, it’s easy to fall in the trap of thinking that you’ll never move forward.

But that’s far from the truth.

Think about where you were five years ago. Each season of our lives demands a different version of us, and what you wanted then is likely different from what you want now.

Things take shape differently, and even if you’re still waiting for answers, if you’re still in the middle of wondering when it’s all going to come together, the past and time collectively prove the same thing to be true: everything eventually comes together, and never a second too early or too late.

When you finally get to that place, you’ll find yourself asking a different series of questions.

Like how time could pass and suddenly you’re standing right where you never thought you’d be. Or how you kept moving forward, because you remember when you could hardly picture what taking the next step even looked like.

You might not be where you want to be, but you aren’t where you used to be. And there’s something deeply comforting about knowing that as long as you keep pushing forward, you’ll eventually reach the place you wanted to be all along.

Hope is the compass that’ll always point you in the right direction.

We lose nothing but gain everything when we put our faith in something we can’t see.

Even with my innocence at the age of five and wondering when I would have all the answers to the “whys” and “when’s”, I trusted in the unspoken promise of hope. Every single experience from there on out, good or bad, led me somewhere I could’ve never imagined at the time.

There were seasons in my life when I questioned everything. When everything that I hoped would go right, went wrong. When I questioned why certain doors closed before I was ready for them to shut, or why some never opened to begin with. When I questioned what my path would’ve looked like if I would’ve made this choice rather than that choice.

We think we know what’s best for us, but we can’t always see the full picture, especially when we keep trying to walk forward without a sense of direction. But hope fills the absence of the unknown. It never rushes, just patiently waits until we’re ready to take the next step.

Time has a way of proving that some things can only be understood by looking backward. Even when we’re met with broken versions of ourselves, or when we can’t clear the fog in front of us.

Because the most important moment isn’t when we reach the end, it’s everything we learn along the way.

It’s putting trust into every single step we take, believing our path is unfolding even when we can’t see what’s ahead. It’s knowing that hope is our compass guiding us forward, and that one day, we’ll finally have all the answers we were once waiting for. Not in our timing, but the right timing. No matter how long it takes.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

I only flipped through a few, but it honestly amazed me how much time I poured into writing about every aspect of my day (and how much I didn’t even remember documenting!). I don’t think I ever missed a single detail, especially considering each entry was 2-3 pages handwritten.

There’s a part of me that misses the simplicity of opening a blank notebook, grabbing a colored pen and ranting about any and everything.

I didn’t write as consistently in college which was a combination of writing full-time for school, freelancing on the side, and being too drained at the end of the day to recap the things I didn’t know how (or want) to talk about.

Writing doesn’t ask for much. But it does require honesty, vulnerability and a willingness to search beyond what’s seen. The beauty of it doesn’t lie in perfection, but in openly letting our thoughts speak for how we feel.

After reading through some of my entries, I wondered how many moments I’ve missed or lost over the years. The ones I wasn’t paying attention to, the mundane ones I never thought twice of, and especially the ones I wish I could remember more of.

When I thought about what I wanted to share on Dear Diary next, my old writings inspired me to start a new series: sharing simple joys and moments I experienced from the previous month.

Whether it’s the little things that brought me happiness, anything I’m proud of/how I took care of my mental health, what I’m currently into, or what I want to carry over with me in the month ahead. There’s also something comforting about looking back on how I felt at certain times in my life and seeing how far I’ve come.

May felt like a soft reset, which is what was needed after a gloomy winter with tons of snow in Michigan.

It wasn’t only the weather that made it feel like the season was never going to end, but unfortunately, my mom went through multiple health scares back to back. It was pretty scary and stressful at times (on top of dealing with some things going on in my personal life) but thankfully each day brought a little more healing.

Even though it’s not technically summer yet, there’s something about stepping into a brand new season that feels like a fresh start.

I always look forward to this month especially since it finally starts warming up outside (currently typing this while enjoying the 70 degree weather!), and everything starts to look brighter and more full of life with all the trees and flowers blooming.

1. What brought me joy:

• allll the sunshine! I swear I will never take a sunny day for granted again

• getting my hair done

• a new Switch 2!

2. Moments I don’t want to forget:

• going on bike rides with my husband

• Mother’s Day with my mom. I was feeling extra emotional this year and it was nice getting away and spending the day together (& eating yummy Chinese!)

• deep conversations with friends that made me feel lighter

3. What I read 📖, watched 📺, and listened to 🎧:

I set a Goodreads goal in January to read 30 books by the end of the year. I’m already 2 ahead of schedule! I love reading but I’m either the type of reader who reads multiple books at once, or I won’t touch one for months. It also helps that I’m in a book club now (which is so fun!), and I broke down and bought this Kindle that I love. Feel like it weirdly helps me read faster?

Read 📖:

• The Things We Leave Unfinished by Rebecca Yarros. I read the Last Letter by her and it toreee me apart. I still liked this book and loved the ending, but it started out a little slow for me. 4/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

• Dark Matter by Blake Crouch. A book club pick! I love thrillers and I was into it right away but the sci-fi portion of it messed with my head (to the point where I had nightmares a couple nights in a row 🙈). Definitely a little different from what I was expecting but kept my attention. 3.5/5 ⭐⭐⭐

• Local Woman Missing by Mary Kubica. This was on my TBR for awhile. And now that I have Kindle Unlimited and saw it was on there, I decided to finally read it. I didn’t love the ending so I rounded it down a star but overall a good fast-paced read. 4/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Watched 📺:

• On Season 8 of Friends! I’ve somehow never watched the show before besides random episodes so I decided to start it from the beginning. I love turning it on for a good comfort show/laugh when needed.

• I’m a sucker for reality TV, especially anything on Bravo. I’ve been rotating between rewatching Vanderpump Rules, The Valley (not my favorite though), and started Summer House.

Listened to 🎧:

• I might be one of the only people who still listens to Pandora. I love all my stations that I’ve worked so hard at over the years with the perfect mix of songs. 😂 I’m usually listening to any and all throwback music when I’m writing: All American Rejects, Taking Back Sunday, Blink 182, etc.

• It’s been my goal for so long to read through the entire Bible. I’ve been listening to a podcast alongside of it called A Year In The Bible by Father Mike on Apple podcasts. It’s around 20 minutes per episode but I love having a more thorough explanation.

4. How I took care of my mental health:

• started working out again. It felt amazing getting back on the treadmill (I love following along with Peloton instructors Matty and Logan) and interval running outside

• drank lots and lots of water. You won’t find me without my Owala water bottle

• gave myself grace on hard days

5. What I’m carrying into June:

• taking more mindful breaks. I get so zoned in to my work and want to be better about stepping away even if it’s only for 10 mins at a time

• getting outside as much as possible

• being more present!

Looking forward to sharing more on the new monthly series! 🌸

Some links in this post might be affiliate links. If you purchase a product or service with the links provided, I may receive a small commission (with no extra cost to you!).

I appreciate you reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

We try to make sense of it all. There’s a shift that happens when we can attach a tangible reason to help explain why things happened the way they did and what pulled us from point A to point B. We think that if there’s a way to make sense of something we find hard to understand, then maybe it’ll push us along the road to healing a little faster.

We never want to sit in the middle of it. And it prompts us to ask the question, do we even know how? We hear it all the time: healing isn’t linear, it’s a process that takes time and something we need to continually work through.

But the irony of it all, is that universally, we don’t know how to hold space for pain. For heartbreak, trauma, tragedy, and especially grief.

On the surface, it makes sense. It’s uncomfortable trying to figure out the right combination of words to make somebody feel better, the pressure to take away everything we know they don’t want to feel. We feel helpless when there isn’t a fix, when we can’t figure out how to solve a problem that there simply isn’t an answer to.

I’ve sat in the middle of healing long enough to know that it’s not about knowing exactly what to say. Because it’s not as black and white as we think it is. Sometimes there are no words, and we don’t have to scramble to find something that isn’t there.

What matters most when it comes to healing is having the space to feel. Not when we hear the perfect words strung together, but when we have a deep knowing that we aren’t alone. When we have presence, rather than absence, without feeling a sense of urgency to keep pushing through.

Sometimes it’s as simple as somebody seeing us for where we’re at. To remind us that there isn’t anything wrong with us if we aren’t over something like we thought we were. To reassure us it’s okay to let every emotion out, even if it means talking about the same situation five more times simply because we found a slightly different angle to look at it. And most importantly, to let us briefly fall apart when we’re trying to make sense of everything that’s taking place around us.

The longer we harbor our feelings, the deeper they take root and become embedded in us. And if we aren’t letting it out, we begin holding onto a heavy weight that we were never meant to carry alone.

Healing doesn’t demand answers. It asks for vulnerability, for time, for recognition.

It’s true that the most deeply human thing we can do is feel, so why are we expected to resist it or move through it as quickly as possible, as if there’s a specific timeline for how we process pain?

Even when we can’t understand it right away, there’s a reason for your pain. But when time feels like it’s at a standstill, as if each day keeps blending into the next, it doesn’t mean you’re behind in your healing journey.

The middle isn’t the part where you lose yourself, it’s when all the pieces you thought you lost along the way start coming together. There are moments we’ll experience that will change the way we see things forever, and there’s no right or wrong way to move through the hard seasons.

It’s not about what you’re going through, but rather, how you walk through it. Even if you don’t see it today or tomorrow, time will eventually reveal the purpose.

And when you reach the other side, what you’ll remember most won’t be the specific moments that broke you. It’ll be those who sat with you when you couldn’t see ahead, the ones who showed you light when you felt surrounded by darkness, and who carried you when you wanted to collapse.

The truth lying underneath it all is that healing isn’t as black and white as we think it is. It’s having a deep knowing that it’s okay to feel everything you’ve been trying to avoid, and allow yourself to sit with those feelings as long as you need to without rushing through them. And above all else, never forget: you’re always doing better than you think you are.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

It’s not talked about enough.

The grief of letting go when all you want to do is hold on.
The grief of moving forward even when you aren’t ready.
The grief of acceptance when you feel full of denial.

And the biggest one: the grief of living a life different from what you imagined.

If you’re a person who feels everything deeply, you’ve likely recognized the disconnect when something painful happens.

Sometimes it happens out of nowhere. And other times you find yourself more prepared for it. The times when you can feel it coming, yet every part of you still tries to resist it. Because it’s easier to hold on to what’s familiar than face the pain of not knowing what’s ahead.

Change doesn’t wait until we’re ready, and that’s the paradox of it. We hold on even when we know we’re better off letting go.

We’re convinced that if we wait long enough, everything will eventually go back to the way it was. We cling to the hope that it’ll turn out better than we anticipated, simply because we kept holding on, and that has to be worth something. And in some cases, we convince ourselves it’s worth everything.

But what happens when life doesn’t turn out how we thought it would?

When we’re forced to keep pushing through, because there isn’t another choice besides the one we don’t want to make?

I once wrote in my journal how sometimes when we feel things coming to an end, it saves us from the pain when it actually does.

I don’t find as much truth in that anymore. Because no matter how prepared we are, even when we try to visualize exactly how we’ll feel, we never truly know until we’re sitting in it. And that’s the grief of learning how to let go of expectations, of releasing a version that we always thought we’d be living.

The grief between where you are and the place you thought you’d be feels unrecognizable.

We let go more often than we notice, even in subtle ways. The friendships that start fading, even though you promised nothing would ever change no matter where life took you. But time and pain inevitably separate you, and you find yourself fighting with everything to hold on even when you know deep down it’s time to let go.

You let go of versions of yourself. The ones you fought hard for and even the ones that kept you afloat when you were drowning. You even find another part of you accepting that it’s okay if you have to let go of a thousand versions of yourself to find the one you love the most.

And that’s the part that gets brushed over. It isn’t just the grief of what we lose that we have trouble accepting. It’s the grief of everything that comes after.

The silence. The moments we can’t put into words. The heartbreak of replaying memories over and over, ones we didn’t even know were memories at the time.

The ache of knowing things have to be different, because they can’t go back to the way they were. Not because we don’t find comfort in the core moments that shaped us into who we are, but because sometimes we’re forced to let go before we’re ready.

That’s the real grief of living in a life that looks different from what we imagined. We can’t go back to the past because we don’t belong there anymore.

And that isn’t a bad thing. We hold onto what’s familiar because that’s all we know. We crave control, for everything to line up the way we think it should.

But what if what’s waiting for us is better than the life we’re settling for? What if we never gave ourselves the opportunity to experience the best because we keep holding onto the comfort of what we know?

Growth comes disguised as loss. And even when we keep showing up in a story that looks different, it doesn’t mean that it won’t eventually be better than the one we would’ve chosen for ourselves.

Because in the end, you might surprise yourself by realizing you’re relieved things didn’t turn out the way you once wanted them to. Even if you have to grieve every version of yourself until you get to the one you love.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when things change. When our mindset starts letting go of a version we held onto for so long, wondering if the person we want to become will eventually turn into reality.

Not just a dream, but a hope that if we work hard enough, and if we promise never to stop for anything, that everything we want will be within our reach.

I look back on the person I was with empathy. Empathy for not knowing better, empathy for feeling lost even though I was only trying to find my way, and empathy for trying to mold myself into who the world told me I ‘should’ be.

Maybe we all inevitably reach the point when we learn how to drop the opinions that were falsely formed by people who swore they knew what was best for us.

Because maybe they were only looking in from the lens of their experience. But even if something is well-intended, it doesn’t mean that it always lands softly.

When I think back, I’m pulled into all the scenarios that left me second-guessing myself, when on paper, I felt like I was doing all the right things.

The one that sticks out in my mind the most was when I was in a sophomore in college, sitting across from my advisor and professor at the time.

I was waiting for him to sign off on my major when he hesitated and asked me, “Are you sure you want to pursue a journalism degree? It’s not an easy profession by any means. It’s either something you do or don’t have.”

I remember pausing for a second, confused by his question. Was I blind to what was waiting for me? Am I setting myself up for failure before I even officially start? Shouldn’t he be encouraging me, especially somebody who was in the field for over 15 years, rather than trying to steer me in the opposite direction?

But the comments didn’t stop there. Even after holding a diploma in my hand, even when I was freelance writing aside a full-time job, and especially when I was questioned more than once on what I “really” wanted to do with my life (as if I wasn’t already trying to pursue it).

Writing was all I knew. It saved me during the hardest times of my life, the times I could only make sense of by pouring my thoughts onto paper. And who was anyone to make me believe that wasn’t possible, to follow a dream I never had any intention of giving up on?

So, even though the thoughts kept bouncing back and forth in my head, I’ll never forget looking him directly in the eyes and saying, “I’ve actually never been so sure of anything.”

Which made me realize: you have to be okay with being misunderstood. And more importantly, you have to stop apologizing for it.

Everyone will have a different opinion, but the one that matters the most is your own.

How often do we sacrifice pieces of who we are to fit the mold of who somebody else wants us to be?

When we’re trying to find our way, we stumble and get lost in the noise. We feel ourselves pulled in opposite directions, unsure how to steady the voices around us long enough to hear our own. And not just in a career, but in all the choices we’re faced with each day.

The only person who knows what’s best for you is yourself. As a people-pleaser, I struggled with this for years, and always found myself relying on others’ opinions. I cared more about what they thought than how I felt.

I tried not to let it influence my decisions in the end, but every time without fail I’d start to question: “What do they know that I don’t?” and “What if I miss out on what’s for me, because I was stubborn and didn’t listen to what they were saying?” and the biggest one, “How can I let somebody hold a negative opinion of me when I know it’s not the truth?”

But here’s what I didn’t know: they didn’t know anything more than I did. There wasn’t some secret that everyone was in on except me. The only difference is they were giving advice from their perspective. And their perspective would never be my perspective.

People see you from the lens of what they’ve been through, not what you’ve been through.

It’s true that people can only meet you as deeply as they’ve met themselves.

They haven’t lived through your experiences, met the people you have, or held the same intentions, beliefs, and dreams that you do.

We aren’t meant to shrink into a version that makes us less of who we are. We ache for acceptance, to be met with the understanding that there are so many reasons why we make the choices we do.

You have to let go of the idea that everybody will understand you how you want to be understood. And there isn’t anything wrong with that, we aren’t meant to be a mirror to each other and we certainly can’t force people to see things from our perspective.

You rarely, if ever, need to explain yourself.

I never knew where I would end up. I was the definition of somebody in my 20s who lived life to the fullest, soaking in every single moment.

I’d often tell myself that if all else failed, I’d figure it out. I didn’t need the perfect curated plan, because in my mind that never existed. And to be honest, it still doesn’t.

The same year I chose my major, I was walking around campus with my best friend when a recruiter approached us and told us about the Disney College Program. I was instantly intrigued and applied. After rounds of interviews I was accepted, and moved 2,000 miles away from everything I knew for my first internship.

I didn’t care that it would put me behind in terms of my college courses or that I wouldn’t graduate on time. Experience was more important to me, and that mindset carved the way for so many choices I made in the future.

However, my problem wasn’t the mindset I held with it. Even though I wasn’t afraid to follow an ‘unconventional’ path, I still found myself worrying deep down what people thought.

We don’t want to be labeled as a failure if something doesn’t work out how we intended it to. We don’t want anyone thinking we’re behind if we aren’t where somebody else is or if we aren’t living up to our own expectations.

We fear being misunderstood because we want people to see us for who we are, rather than a misconception that was formed over time.

But in the end, does it really matter?

You won’t be understood by every person you meet. No matter how good your intentions are, no matter if everything happens exactly how you envision it will or no matter how often you try to explain why you’ve made the choices you did.

People will always have their opinions, and you have to be okay if it doesn’t match yours.

Because there will be people who do deeply understand you, the ones who often find words for you when you can’t find them yourself. And you’ll appreciate it that much more, when you’re surrounded by those who see you for the person you are, the one hidden beneath all the layers.

Understanding is knowing there’s depth that goes way beyond the surface. There’s a version of all of us that never requires explaining.

Your choices only have to make sense to you. And above all else, remember: if it makes you happy, it doesn’t have to make sense to anybody else.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

The lessons that change us from the inside out and make us question everything. The ones that leave us breathless, the ones we never asked for, yet secretly need more than anything.

The ones that leave us awake in the middle of the night, holding silent tears for both gratitude and pain. Wondering who we would’ve become had things not happened exactly the way they did. And somehow, finding gratitude in the realization that a “no” or a “not yet” might’ve saved us from even more heartache, especially if we got what we thought we wanted.

With every birthday that passes, I find myself more and more thankful for the gift of time.

Even when it feels like time suddenly stops, only to start moving again at a pace that feels impossible to keep up with. Or when we find ourselves holding on to a moment we never want to end, because we know the next one won’t be the same as the last.

Each year I’m evolving, changing and growing into the person I’m meant to be. And isn’t that the point of life, to lean into change rather than shy away from it? To strive to be better than the person we were yesterday, even if it’s only one percent better?

I turned 34 last week. And while every year comes with a little more reflection, I took a moment to pause. Not only to appreciate where I am, but to remember every place I’ve been.

24-year-old me wouldn’t believe the path I’ve walked the last 10 years. I still find pieces of my past scattered in the life I’m currently living, and while I’m not 100 percent where I want to be, I thank God I’m not where I used to be.

No matter what age I’m turning, there’s one thing that continues to hold true: I don’t know what’s waiting for me next.

But I do know there’s more power than we realize when we believe in our strength and trust our resilience. Because they’ll always carry us through to the other side, no matter where we end up in life. & there’s so much beauty in a story that’s still being written.

So, here’s to chapter 34, and all the life lessons I’ve learned along the way:

1. treat each moment like it’s a gift, because it is

2. no amount of worrying will change the outcome

3. be okay with not having all the answers right away. “there are years that ask questions, and years that answer”

4. rock bottom isn’t meant for destruction, it’s a solid foundation to rebuild

5. you can’t control how others treat you, you can only control your response

6. we heal by confronting, not avoiding

7. life is short. spend it with people who make you feel grateful just to be alive

8. happiness is found when you release the grip of control

9. not everybody has your best intentions in mind. take the opinions of others lightly (or not at all)

10. time teaches us that some things can only be understood by looking backward

11. never forget what you currently have while waiting for what you want

12. keep moving forward, even if it’s only one small step at a time

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13. even in seasons of pain, you’re being prepared for what’s next

14. sometimes you have to be willing to let go of people, even when you aren’t ready to. not to hurt you, but because their purpose in your life is fulfilled

15. a 15-minute walk outside will clear your head more than overthinking ever will

16. you can’t make the same choices over and over and expect different results

17. stop focusing on a timeline. your path isn’t their path

18. your worth isn’t conditional based on your circumstances

19. separate how you feel from what you know to be true

20. grief loops, it doesn’t stop. it’s not something you get over, it’s something you learn how to move forward with

21. every single decision you make matters. no matter how small or insignificant it seems

22. you’re never required to explain how you feel, especially to those committed to misunderstanding you

23. it really is okay to change your mind from what you once wanted. you aren’t meant to stay stagnant

24. don’t be offended if somebody doesn’t know how to hold space for your pain, especially if they never walked in your shoes

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25. the hard times will change the deepest parts of you, but they won’t break you

26. instead of looking at loss as the end, trust that it was protecting you from the things you couldn’t see yet

27. pass kindness, not judgment. you have absolutely no idea what somebody else is carrying

28. there’s always light to be found, even in darkness. you just have to be willing to look for it

29. your purpose isn’t defined by how fast or slow things are moving in your life. it’s defined by who you are

30. clarity comes when we learn how to let things be, rather than forcing them to fit the perception of what we want them to be

31. your mental health and inner peace matter more than anything else

32. don’t let the pressure of where you ‘aren’t’ make you lose sight of where you ‘are’

33. there is always, always something to be grateful for

34. never forget that even when a chapter feels long, it doesn’t mean it’s the end of your story

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

To the person I was a year ago:

You’re right. Expectations fall short, plans change, and life never skips a beat even when it feels like your world stopped spinning.

You look around and wonder how, when you’re drowning in grief, everybody else keeps living, keeps moving forward.

And in another breath, you start wondering how many other people are carrying the heavy weight of what they never talk about. How much they hold beneath the surface that you’d never be able to tell just by looking at them.

Your mind becomes a conflicting paradox, knowing that time is passing so you should feel better by now.

Yet in your darkest moments you still don’t feel any different from the day that marked a ‘before’ you and an ‘after’ you.

You struggle to answer the question of “when” you’ll finally feel better, since you know there’s no room for the possibility of “if” you’ll ever feel better.

You’re able to hold onto this truth because in your mind, you know that even in the deepest trenches of pain, you’ve always found a way to the other side. And even though you don’t know how, you know time will inevitably carry you through.

Except you start to feel conflicted because even though you’ve experienced deep-rooted pain before, nothing could’ve prepared you for how you feel now.

You reflect on the past, on chapters that ended even when you knew it was time to come to a close.

You remember the devastation you felt the last time you played soccer, a sport you loved so deeply. You’re taken right back to the anxious feelings you were experiencing the first time you left for college, so unsure where your path was leading you.

You remember how you felt after you lost years of a friendship, and when you made the hard choice to walk away from relationships you knew weren’t right for you anymore. And even when you grieved physical losses of family members and close family friends who left this earth too soon.

But this grief felt different.

It’s a grief that came with lost dreams, empty promises and a future that feels anything but clear.

You grieve your innocence, the person you were before, and the person you’re trying to become. Except you aren’t sure how to embrace the shift that’s silently happening, because you don’t know what this new version of you looks like.

Pregnancy loss changed you, especially losing twins. Which was one of those random dreams you had for so long, specifically being a ‘twin mom’. Less than three months before your 33rd birthday, your world forever changed.

You tried convincing yourself that time passed and you should feel better by now. Yet a bigger part of you knows that grief doesn’t work like that.

Grief doesn’t disappear. Not when people, even those with good intentions, tell you “loss happens” and “it’s more common than you think”.

Grief hides in the shadows, buries itself in the smallest crevices, and exposes itself when you least expect it.

You come to realize that moving forward is taking a lot more time than you initially thought it would.

You can’t glue together broken pieces and expect it to look exactly like the picture it did before. No, to rebuild, you have to create something entirely new.

So, if I could turn back time, this is what I’d tell my 33-year-old self:

It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to feel broken. It’s okay to sit in your grief, your sadness, to feel a longing ache for what you once had but slipped away. To not know what’s ahead of you, to sit in the uncertainty and ask all the whys and the what ifs.

But it’s important that you don’t stay there.

It’s not your job to figure it all out, but it is your job to trust. To trust that even when you feel disconnected, beneath the surface everything is starting to reconnect in ways you can’t understand yet.

Some days you’ll feel like all you’re doing is wondering how you’re even mustering the strength to keep going. You’ll have more days than not when you’ll question everything, but above all, know there’s purpose in your pain.

There’s purpose in what you can’t see, especially in the middle. Not every day will feel joyful, but you’ll find moments of joy scattered in each day.

Including the times when a stranger “just gets you”, when you look up and find a reflection of a rainbow on your wall, when a random song comes on and the lyrics perfectly describe how you feel, when you feel the rush of finishing a run that felt impossible to get through, and most of all - when you feel a sense of peace that you can’t put into words.

This next year will be far from easy. And it might not be “your best year yet” like you were hoping, but that’s okay.

Because it’s strengthening you into the person you’ll be at 34, and every version of yourself you’ll become in the future. And you won’t want to change that for anything.

Thank you so much for reading! Be sure to check out more of my work at Truth Within Silence and follow along on Instagram.

I was the six-year-old girl who scribbled in my first-ever Pooh journal the most random details about my day.

I was the freshman in high school who owned more college-ruled notebooks than I knew what to do with. Every night before bed, I’d sit at my desk in my bright-blue bedroom upstairs at my parents’ house and write for at least an hour.

I’d rant about my personal life and all the emotions that came with being a teenager, create short-form poetry I never had any intention of publishing, and had a running list of random story ideas. But it didn’t matter what I wrote, as long as I had a pen in my hand, a blank page, and Taking Back Sunday on repeat.

Writing became the bridge between harboring my heavy thoughts and learning how to release the rawness of everything I held beneath the surface by expressing my thoughts out loud. And I didn’t know who I was without it.

Then it came time to choose a career.

As an 18-year-old who constantly second-guessed every single choice and decision I made, I wondered if I could actually make a career out of doing the one thing I loved the most.

I took a chance and pursued my passion, receiving a degree in journalism (specifically news/magazine editorial). I wrote for the campus magazine, and freelanced for several publications after graduation including Elite Daily and Thought Catalog.

I dreamed of working for a larger company, but when I was laid off unexpectedly in 2023, I decided to finish a website I started building years earlier called Truth Within Silence, which I currently still run to this day.

I created that website to expand on topics I’m most passionate about: self-love and empowerment, healthy relationships, healing and personal growth.

But lately, I’ve been craving a space for something even deeper.

I’ve wanted to write less for an algorithm, less for SEO, less for the pressure of overthinking every word I write/type - and more for what my voice needed to say.

I wanted a place for raw honesty, hard truths and sharing the words and thoughts that feel the hardest to speak out loud.

Fear never used to hold me back from expressing my true emotions. I never compared myself to anyone but the writer I was the day before. And I’ve been feeling such a pull to return to that carefree, younger version of myself, who shamelessly wrote deep reflections and let every word flow freely in my diaries and journals without holding back.

Which is where Dear Diary comes in.

What You’ll Find On Dear Diary:

• Real and raw entries from my own writings

• Simple, absorbing and thought-provoking content

• Deep introspection: think hard life lessons learned and important takeaways from seasons of growth, pain and healing

• Emotionally present content. Words that aren’t over-explained, but the ones that land softly and connect with our innermost feelings

Whether you’ve been following along with my website content for awhile or you’re new here, I’m so excited to officially welcome you to Dear Diary.

I can’t wait to share my deepest reflections, hoping each word resonates with you at the exact moment you need it.

For more content, be sure to check out my website Truth Within Silence, and follow along on Instagram.