My Rattled Psyche

My psyche has been on a roller coaster lately—rattled, stretched, and occasionally flung upside down. Wedding planning, as it turns out, isn’t just about picking colors or tasting cake. It’s psychological warfare. One minute you’re overjoyed, and the next, you’re wondering how many more vendor calls you can take without spontaneously combusting.

Just yesterday, I was chatting with one of The Comedian’s coworkers whose daughter is also planning a wedding. She said her daughter reached the point where she simply doesn’t care anymore. And honestly? Same. I’m there. That’s my current zip code.

Relationships, advice, dating

But through all the chaos, I’ve met some truly incredible people. I’ve also discovered who’s willing to go the extra mile, and who quietly steps back. I still cherish my friends and family to the core—but I’ve had to come to terms with something difficult: You can’t save them all.

I recently had a conversation that reminded me why I care so deeply for people, even those who’ve hurt me. I’ve always had this pull to help, to reach out, to offer a hand even if it’s been slapped away before. It’s why I blog—to be the voice someone might need. Maybe some woman out there is standing at a crossroads, and she reads my story. Maybe she sees the light.

That hope keeps me writing.

I truly believe I was put on this earth to walk through certain storms so I could return with wisdom to offer someone else. Not the kind of wisdom that comes just from experience—but the kind that emerges when you choose to see your experiences as tools for growth.

It’s also why I tend to get invested in people’s relationships. I once spent an extra 30 minutes in an Uber giving the driver relationship advice. Whether or not The Comedian thought it was “appropriate,” my tipsy heart said, “Sir, you deserve clarity!”

The theme of my bachelorette cruise? Finding ourselves again. Because somewhere between the babies, the jobs, and the relationships, we forget how phenomenal we are. We forget the fire we carry. That trip reminded me: I love people. I love dancing like no one’s watching. And I love being surrounded by women who’ve lived, cried, healed, and still rise.

That’s why I feel so rattled—I had forgotten.

And now, I remember.

The truth is, wedding planning, working full-time, and navigating my freelance dreams have all taken a toll. I’m ready for the wedding to be behind me. Not because I’m not excited—I am—but because I’m ready to shift into a new season.

A season where I have time to write, time to travel, time to step into the purpose I’ve been dancing around for years. There’s a lot I can’t share yet, but just know this: change is coming, and it’s the kind of change that makes your heart beat a little faster with anticipation.

I might even go back to school. I’ve always felt called to help people in their relationships—to help them see clearly what they can’t from the inside. Sometimes all we need is one honest voice from the outside to shine a little light.

And speaking of light, this was Joel Osteen’s prayer today. I’ll leave it with you:

“Father, today I raise my level of expectancy. I choose to take the limits off of my thinking. I know that You are able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all I could ever ask, think or imagine. Thank You for the blessing You have in store for me in Jesus’ name! Amen.”

Here’s to rising. To realigning. To remembering who you are.

finding yourself, relationships, relationship advice

Achievement Lately: When Netflix Inspires You to Get Off the Couch

I’ve been thinking a lot about achievement lately.

So there I was, deep into a House of Cards binge—watching fictional politicians claw their way to the top of the power ladder—while I sat comfortably on the couch doing the exact opposite. The irony, right? But in my defense, I was multitasking. Kind of.

Somewhere between episode five and a second bowl of popcorn, this familiar pounding started in my chest. Not anxiety. Not caffeine. But that persistent feeling that I need to write this book.

I’ve been dodging this story for a while because, honestly, it’s a heavy one. It’s complicated. It's traumatic. It’s the kind of story that makes your hands tremble before they hit the keyboard. But it’s also the story that could save someone else from making the same mistake.

And maybe that’s the reason it keeps tugging at me.

It was the most traumatic experience of my life. It opened my eyes to the dark corners of the world—and the kinds of people who prey on the naive, the hopeful, the trusting. People say I’m strong, and I appreciate that, but strength isn’t something you wake up with. It’s forged. And this experience… forged me.

The good news? Last night, I wrote.

And when I wrote, I felt okay. Actually okay. I expected to feel panic, or to break down, or to stop halfway through. But I didn’t. It was like something had shifted. Maybe years of therapy and prayer actually worked. Maybe I’m finally on the other side of it.

So why write it now?

Because the story matters. Because I’m not the only one it’s happened to—and I won’t be the last if no one speaks up. Because a man who once lured me with a dream was later arrested for grand larceny. Because closure isn’t always silent; sometimes it’s written.

I’ve drafted versions of this book for years. None of them stuck. But this time feels different. It feels right. And if God keeps nudging me toward it, then maybe it’s finally time to listen. Every time I ignore it, the guilt grows louder. And honestly? I’m tired of carrying it.

So yes, I’ll write the book.

But also, yes—I will finish House of Cards.

Balance, people.