I DID it!
So can you!
I have a question for you: Are you done pretending that the life you built for survival is enough for your soul?
Look at that little boat up there—my Ghostship.
I painted her years ago, long before I realized she was a self-portrait: perfect hull, upright mast, but no one at the wheel. Just drifting through the fog, haunting her own waters.
Our culture doesn't prepare us for this chapter with joy or possibility. Instead, it bombards us with messages that aging equals decline. No wonder it feels like despair creeps in.
There comes a moment in your 60s when everything that used to work… stops.
The routines. The roles. The people-pleasing. Even the dreams you were chasing.
It happened to me on a regular Tuesday. I was standing in front of a half-finished painting, brush in hand, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I ever thought I was an artist. That voice was back—the one that says, “You’re too late. You missed it.”
But here’s what I’ve learned since:
That moment isn’t a breakdown.
It’s a threshold.
Your soul knows.
It knows you’ve spent decades doing what was expected—raising kids, proving worth, showing up, keeping peace, surviving heartbreaks.
And now it’s whispering:
What about me?
You are not broken.
You’re just at the point where the mask no longer fits, and the noise no longer soothes.
When I dug into my own story, I found the girl who used to draw on cardboard boxes and believed her hands could make beauty.
I found the woman who once sold a painting called Ghostship, not knowing it was her own spirit she’d captured.
I remembered how many pieces I painted over because no one around me ever said, “Keep going. That’s good.”
So let me be the one who says it now:
Keep going. That’s good.
You don’t need a five-year plan.
You don’t need to fix your life.
You just need to start listening to that voice inside again—the one that wants color, freedom, quiet mornings, and maybe even a wide-brimmed hat on a red canoe.
Ask yourself:
✨ What did I love before the world told me who to be?
✨ What would feel like freedom—even just for today?
✨ What would I do if I stopped asking for permission?
You’re not going downhill.
You’re standing on the edge of your second act.
And baby, it’s beautiful up here.
But not anymore.
What dream is whispering to you right now? The one you nearly forgot? The one that still wants you?
Let’s remember together.
I wrote Breakthrough for the version of me who felt like a ghost. If that’s you too, you don’t have to stay lost. It is a 27 page quide of my own story, with five disctinct moduels taken from my own experience, to guide you through to your own BREAKTHROUGH
This is EXCELLENT Monica. I do not remember having dreams as a child. I was focused on survival. In my teens, I escaped the mundane and the loneliness by sketching and painting. During my later years in high school, after going to Europe, I dreamed of travel, of exploration, of adventure. But most importantly for me, I wanted someone to do those things with. I lacked the confidence to believe I could make my own dreams come true. 48 years later, I have finally realized that some dreams may not come true. But that's okay. I no longer have to climb the mountain towards goals. Daily life is the journey to enjoy, not look to what may happen or may not in the future. Being grateful for what I have and adding beauty around me may just be enough.
What did I love before the world told me who to be? playing. snuggling. but mostly being outside all day playing gods and goddesses with barbara and ann. watching red skelton, danny kaye, sunday comics on dad's lap.
What would feel like freedom—even just for today? being totally secure. financially and emotionally. like when i was a kid. before cell phones. before pay checks. before cars. before boys. just laying in the grass beside the lake. doing nothing.
What would I do if I stopped asking for permission? just decompress for a month. stretch. run.