The Left Turn That Changed Everything

This painting reminds me of what happened when I finally said it out loud—

I’ve been feeling flat lately. Quiet. Not destroyed, not depressed—just... poured out.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been grieving the abrupt loss of a community I thought I could count on. One day, it felt like I belonged. The next, I was ghosted without explanation. And I didn’t know what to do with the ache. So I did what I’ve always done: I poured myself into work.

I told myself this isolation was a good thing.
A cocoon. A season of becoming.
And maybe it is. Maybe it was.

But let me be honest with you: I was also lonely as hell.

Still, I kept showing up for the work. Kept making videos. Kept writing Notes. Kept pouring energy into the women I serve—women over 60 who are trying to rediscover themselves after caregiving, after marriage, after a long stretch of invisibility.

And I told myself, This is needed. This is holy. This is enough.

And yet... it wasn’t.

Even my own spiritual practices started feeling thin. So, I created a meditation practice I call “visiting with my soul.” It’s not like what most people think of when they hear that word. No chanting, no complicated posture. I just sit down like I’m meeting an old friend for coffee. I don’t perform. I don’t ask. I just show up. Most everything you read here comes to me right after “visiting with my soul”.

But today, even after sitting in silence, I felt hollow.
There wasn’t even grief left. Just a flat, quiet ache.
Like I had been speaking into a canyon and forgotten what it sounded like to hear my own name spoken back.

And before I even thought about it, I said it out loud:

“I need someone to love me.
I need someone to pour energy into me.”

It felt risky to admit—but it was the truest thing I had.

So I stood up from my desk, grabbed my keys, and told myself, Just go walk. Don’t think. Don’t plan. Just move.

I usually turn right on Main Street.
But tonight, something in me said: Go left.

So I did.

And less than a block later, I ran into a delightful gentleman who greeted me with pure joy! He and I have seen each other from time to time in the neighborhood, but never met nor had a conversation. Now? my new friend JP. from the moment he saw me, he opened his arms. I stepped in like someone who hadn’t been hugged in months. And maybe I hadn’t—not like that.

We talked. Really talked.
The kind of conversation that doesn’t need warm-up questions or catch-up chatter. The kind where your soul starts filling back in from the inside out.

Eventually, we said goodbye, and I walked back toward my building. I stopped to sit for a minute on the bench in front of my apartment building. It just didn’t seem like I was supposed to go home- yet. So. I sat.

And would you believe it?

An old friend I hadn’t seen in almost two years walked across the street—straight to me.

He told me he’s starting a new church.
It meets on Sundays at 4pm.
In the coffee shop across from where I live.

And then he asked me—gently, kindly—
Would you come?

I sat there stunned.
Not because he asked. But because just an hour earlier, I had spoken into the silence, believing no one was listening. And suddenly—here was the invitation I didn’t even know I was craving.

So I said yes. And I meant it.

Because in one quiet walk, in one left turn,
I was met with open arms, familiar faces, and the gentle reminder that I’m not as alone as I thought.

---

If you’re in a season that feels still and silent...
If you’re tired of giving and longing to be received...
If you’ve whispered your need into the dark, unsure if anyone heard...

Take the walk.
Make the left turn.
Let life surprise you.

Sometimes the answer is already walking toward you.
You just have to be willing to leave the house.