The other day, I walked into a restaurant here in Asheville, and standing in front of me in line was a new friend of mine. 

We exchanged smiles, said hello, hugged, caught up briefly, and then went our separate ways.

This might seem like a small moment, but for me, it was monumental. 

It was the first time since moving to Asheville back in June that something like this had happened—running into someone I know.

A historical moment, really. 

Five years ago, at 5:30 a.m. on New Year's Day 🎉 I drove home from a friend's house, my head spinning with ideas.

Long into the night, we had been deep in conversations about my childhood.

Though we’d known each other for years, I’d never shared those parts of my life with her—or with most people. 

Luckily for me, she's a therapist, but unknown to me, she also specializes in the type of abuse I'd experienced.

I usually don’t send emails two weeks in a row, but on Christmas Eve, sitting in my best friend’s living room, surrounded by Christmas cheer, I felt moved to connect with you.

Earlier this week, I drove 8.5 hours through four different states—all the way to Cleveland, Ohio. 

The journey was filled with beautiful landscapes: rolling hills, cozy farmhouses, snow-covered forests, and flowing rivers. 

This past week, I had a rupture with someone I love.

It was hard—I could feel myself starting to spiral. I felt conflicted in my inner world, torn between wanting to show up for them and, pulling away, and shutting down.

But here’s the good news (yes, there is good news): I SAW what I was doing. I was aware of it!

And then afterwards, with a little space to sort through my feelings, I was able to come back and totally own my side of things. 

I could apologize easily and explain what I was thinking, and how I was feeling, which created a beautiful repair.

Last weekend, I had the honor of presenting at the 9th Annual Georgetown Day School Sexual Assault and Consent Summit—a conference created by high school students for their peers, parents, and educators. 

How amazing is that?

Throughout the weekend, survivors shared powerful stories of healing and resilience, in a space was filled with openness and support. It was truly inspiring, and I’m so grateful to have been part of it.

I have to admit—I’m exhausted. This past week has been a whirlwind of travel, celebrating beautiful moments of love, and facing the uncertainty of what’s next.

My mind’s been in overdrive, trying to “figure it all out,” wondering why things are as they are.

But here’s the truth: 

things simply are as they are. 

Tomorrow marks four weeks since Hurricane Helene hit Western North Carolina.

It’s hard to put into words how much has changed—not just in my life, but in the lives of thousands across the region.

For three weeks, I was out of my home, out of routine, and completely out of sorts. The first two weeks, it made sense that I wasn’t as productive as usual.

Wow, I honestly don’t know where to begin.

First, I just want to say how incredibly grateful I am to be alive, to have an intact home, and to now have basic electricity, water, and phone service.

Because for so many in my new hometown of Asheville, that is not the case.

You’ve probably seen the news about the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene in Western North Carolina. 

Have you ever wished for someone to swoop in, take control, and say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this”?

I’ve been noticing a theme lately. I’ve noticed it in myself and it’s been coming up in conversations with friends and with clients. 

My last year in college, my life fell apart. I was 22, barely speaking to my mom, my friends were mad at me, and my long-term boyfriend was ready to leave if things didn't change.

Yesterday, I was chatting with a friend about manifesting, and I shared a little tip I use. She immediately said, "You need to make a video about that!" And I thought, "Yeah, I should make a video about that!"

For the past five months, I've had the distinct pleasure of being a part of a creativity support group—or at least that's how I think about it 😂

If you read my last post, you’re aware that I’m in the midst of a hefty transition.

This week, I did something risky. I loaded up my trusty Toyota Corolla with everything I own and started a solo journey across the United States. 

The other day, I was chatting with a friend who just returned from a trip to France. She said, “I think I’m now in love with roundabouts.”

She explained how seamless her driving experience was with less traffic and fewer stops at traffic lights. She found that, when done correctly, roundabouts can be really helpful and not as scary as we Americans tend to think.

I mean, how many times have you come to one and thought, “What if I get stuck and can’t get out?” I know I have!

The more I thought about this, the more I saw parallels between roundabouts and our own lives, especially on our healing journey.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you think, "Did I really just do that?"

Last week, I was having a conversation with a client about—wait for it—feelings! 

• If I'm angry, it means I'm being mean.

• If I'm sad, it means I did something wrong.

• If I'm anxious, it means I shouldn't do it.

• If I miss them, it means I made a mistake.

For a moment, imagine someone really important to you. 

You may have noticed the void last week – no regularly scheduled biweekly email. I can just picture you, waiting with bated breath, only to find... nothing.