Noticing What’s Still Blooming

A true story about choosing peace, even when everything else feels like absence.

This is me at 65, holding my grandson. And yes—that glow is real. It came from loving him with my whole heart, in that moment, with nothing to prove and nothing to fix. So much goodness has come to me at this stage of life… because I finally stopped trying to manage everything—and started simply noticing what’s still blooming.

I woke up in a quiet room.
No calls. No texts. No announcement from my youngest that she just had a baby.
And still, I breathed.
Still, I noticed the sky—pale and moody.
Still, I heard the ache… and chose not to spiral. Not today.

I’m not telling you this so you’ll pity me. I’m telling you because I’ve lived it—and I’m still blooming.

And that’s when the thoughts started stacking.

NEGATIVE NELLY:My oldest hasn’t spoken to me in months.

NEGATIVE NELLY : A close friend and I sat on the patio last night like two people waiting for a train that never came. Not angry. Not affectionate. Just… nothing.

NEGATIVE NELLY: Another friend walked past me on the street, eyes glued to the sidewalk. Didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. His dog got more acknowledgment than I did.

And that silence? It echoed.

It wasn’t just one person not calling. It became no one noticing I’m here at all.

So I did what I’ve done too many times before:

I compounded it.

Stacked every moment of rejection like bricks on my chest.

Laid in bed and let it get heavier and heavier until even breathing felt optional.

But somewhere in the middle of that spiral, I caught a flicker.

Not a lightning bolt. Not a miracle. Just a single, defiant truth:

WHAT IF:

• I didn’t notice the pain today? What if I didn’t rehearse the rejection?

• Didn’t tally the silence?

• Didn’t let my thoughts drag me back into a courtroom I keep rebuilding from memory?

Because the truth is—when I don’t notice the pain, other things get to come in.

If you want help getting out of your own spiral, I made something that helped me—maybe it’ll help you too.

Everything I wish someone had handed me when I felt stuck? It’s in this Starter Kit.

I made this for the woman who’s ready to stop spiraling and start blooming.

Like the gorgeous white showcase I just brought into my living space.A big, elegant presence that now holds the soft pink mementos of my life—artifacts of beauty, reminders of joy. And those pink chairs? They came with it. Like they’d been waiting to sit beside me. And that dining room table? Someone gave it to me—no strings, no drama. Just generosity.

These moments didn’t show up when I was spiraling.

They showed up when I got quiet. When I paid attention to the monkey chatter in my head—and told it to hush.

Because here’s what I know now:

Good things happen when I get out of my own way.

And I only get in my own way when I forget that my thoughts are not the truth—they’re just habits I haven’t replaced yet.

The last few days? I threw myself a damn pity party.

I RSVP’d to my own pain and made it a four-day festival -- complete with mental confetti and imaginary violins

And you know what? That’s on me.

Not my daughters. Not on my fair weathered friends.

Me.

Just like the good feelings are on me.

Just like the joy that fills my space—the pink, the softness, the unexpected gifts—those came when I turned my focus toward what was working.

It’s humbling.

But it’s also wildly freeing.

So today, even sick in bed, I’m stacking different thoughts.

I’m letting the better compound.

And I’m remembering what happens when I choose to notice what’s still blooming—right here in my own damn life.

If you want help getting out of your own spiral, I made something that helped me—maybe it’ll help you too.

If this piece stirred something in you—if you’re ready to stop carrying the weight and start living from softness, clarity, and grounded joy—the Second Act Starter Kit is my personal invitation.
Inside, you’ll find gentle prompts to help you reconnect with your voice, along with two free digital art prints I created to remind you of who you are and what’s still possible.
Because it’s not too late. It’s just your time now.