Hard doesn't always mean horrible. 2025 had its gut punches, but it also gave me peace I'd never known. I finally addressed my anxiety, protected my peace, and got ready for what's next. Here's why I'm not running from this year, I'm saddling up because of it.

I spent last week in bed. Not because I was sick, at least not in the traditional sense. I was depleted. Burnt out. Running on fumes that had long since evaporated. Outside of showering, brushing my teeth, and washing my face, I pretty much stayed horizontal. I cooked dinner maybe once. I responded to emails and dealt with our youth and social workers from under my covers. But getting up? Facing the world? I just couldn’t do it. And honestly, I didn’t want to. At the beginnin

Two weeks of silence since she moved to her foster home. I'm grieving a relationship that ended the right way, with her finally getting what we fought for. But nobody warns former foster youth who do this work about this grief: when you pour from your wounds into theirs, letting go makes you bleed. This is about loving kids in care when you've been one, and the heartbreak we carry so they can heal.