I’m bringing back something I used to love doing on my old blog. Setting intentions for the month ahead.
Even though December is the final stretch of the year (and honestly… can someone explain how 2025 evaporated this fast?), I want to rebuild this habit now, not later.
December feels like a doorway. And I want to walk into it with clarity.
December Intentions
Next month, I want to:
• Reconnect with my socials share more on my blog and Instagram with intention, not pressure.
“December holds space for all of us to choose intention over autopilot.”
• Shift into documenting my running journey. I am running. I am training. My future marathon starts now.
• Dive deeper into my yoga practice and meditation, and share pieces of that path.
• Go on different small adventures the simple kind that remind me I’m alive.
• Visit the Rockefeller Center tree.
• Take my girls to see Santa. ( let my inner child enjoy the magic of the season too)
• Say yes to more art classes and creative play.
• Set up my Project Life album and prepare to document 2026.
• Work on my December Daily and actually enjoy the process.
• Be mindful, kinder to my body, and more aware of the choices that support the version of me I’m becoming.
December is the last chapter of the year, but it’s also the preview of who I’m choosing to step into next.
Entering Level 50 feels less like getting older and more like stepping into a quieter kind of celebration one without the confetti, without the noise.
For some reason, I thought it would be grand balloons, laughter, maybe a room full of people cheering me on.
Instead, it’s will be just me. A celebration of self, alone, with myself, with no hurrah.
I won’t lie I had a wave of FOMO, that ache that asks, “Was I forgotten?”
But then I remembered the one truth that softens everything:
I love myself.
And I love who I am becoming.
Although I’ve reached this age, I feel brand new like a soul reintroduced to her own rhythm. I’m learning to be truth to self, to pour what I love into what I create, and to let that be my offering to the world.
So here I am still evolving, still laughing in places I once cried, still finding beauty in the in-between.
And through it all, I’ve gathered lessons some whispered, some screamed, all earned.
What have you learned so far?
Here are fifty of them.
1. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
2. You can love someone and still outgrow them.
3. Grief never leaves; it just changes shoes.
4. Silence says more than a thousand apologies.
5. Joy is sacred protect it like it’s your only light.
6. Laughter during chaos is a form of prayer.
7. Boundaries are self-respect in action.
8. You can’t pour from an empty soul.
9. Coffee is a love language.
10. Motherhood teaches both surrender and strength.
11. Your body remembers what your mind denies.
12. The universe always whispers before it screams.
13. Sometimes “no” is the holiest word you can say.
14. Music can time-travel your heart.
15. Friendship should feel like exhaling.
16. Not everyone deserves access to your softness.
17. You’re allowed to rewrite your story mid-chapter.
18. Forgiveness doesn’t require reconnection.
19. Solitude is not loneliness it’s sacred space.
20. God speaks in coincidences.
21. Perfection is the enemy of peace.
22. Dance in the kitchen it heals more than therapy sometimes.
23. You can be broken and still radiant.
24. Rest is productive.
25. Some lessons repeat until you act differently.
26. Love yourself in public.
27. Spirituality doesn’t need an audience.
28. Laugh at your own pain sometimes it takes its power away.
29. Closure is often a myth; acceptance is real.
30. People only meet you as deeply as they’ve met themselves.
31. You are not what you lost.
32. Gratitude is medicine.
33. You can be soft and still fierce.
34. Energy doesn’t lie trust the vibe.
35. It’s okay to start over at any age.
36. Children are mirrors; they show you your truth.
37. The moon really does know your secrets.
38. Don’t explain your boundaries enforce them.
39. Beauty fades; character glows.
40. Sometimes closure looks like silence.
41. Love that feels like confusion is not love.
42. You are allowed to outgrow your coping mechanisms.
43. Every heartbreak refined you somehow.
44. Laugh at the plot twists.
45. Write it down memory is sacred.
46. The divine is always in the details.
47. Time doesn’t heal everything, but perspective does.
48. You are the poem.
49. Not everything needs to be understood some things are meant to be felt.
50. The best is not behind you; it’s becoming you.
Level 50 isn’t a milestone it’s a mirror.
It reflects the woman I’ve become after walking through shadow and sunrise, holding both grace and grit in the same hands.
This celebration may be quiet, but it’s honest.
And maybe that’s the gift not being seen by everyone, but finally seeing myself.
I’m still learning. Still unlearning. Still becoming.
And this time, I’m doing it with peace in my bones, poetry in my breath, and no need to prove anything to anyone.
I can’t believe how quickly we opened and closed our eyes and here we are. Two months away from saying goodbye to 2025. But that doesn’t mean these next two months can’t be full; full of goals, movement, and maybe even a few promises we made to ourselves back in January waiting to be fulfilled.
For me, November arrives carrying a milestone,my milestone birthday.
At the start of the year, I had grand plans. I imagined celebrating on a warm island, drink in hand, ocean breeze in my hair. Then that dream shifted to standing before a roaring waterfall, feeling small and alive at once. But in the end, it seems I’ll be alone in a small city hopefully holding a grand latte watching as life moves around me.
And I’m okay with that.
If this year has taught me anything, it’s this:
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.
Don’t expect others to carry your dream.
The dream is yours it’s yours to protect, nurture, and bring to life.
I’ve learned to slow down. To mind my words. To keep company that values my time the way I value theirs. There’s a shift happening inside me maybe it’s this milestone birthday, or maybe it’s the long-awaited awakening I’ve been chasing for years. Whatever it is, I feel ready.
This November, I want to live authentically.
I’m starting with Thankful 30 documenting each day something that keeps me grounded in gratitude.
I want to pause, reflect, and notice the small things that make me whisper thank you.
I recently finished reading Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho, and it left me sitting with myself in a way very few books ever have. On the surface, it’s a story about a young woman who attempts to end her life, but beneath the pages, it’s about something far deeper the raw, terrifying, exhilarating art of truly living.
What struck me wasn’t Veronika’s decision to die it was what happened after. When she believed she had only days left, she stopped holding back.
She did the things she never dared. She spoke the words she’d once swallowed. She allowed herself to feel deeply, unapologetically, even recklessly because in her mind, there was nothing left to lose. And in that space of nothing-to-lose, she discovered everything she had been missing.
It made me ask myself a hard question: What would I do differently if I believed my time was short? Would I still silence myself for the comfort of others?
Would I still chase people who never meet me halfway? Would I still cling to jobs, roles, or identities that no longer reflect who I am becoming?
The truth is, I’ve already started answering that question without even realizing it. I’ve been releasing people I once clung to, refusing to keep calling and texting and chasing after one-sided connections.
I’ve been quietly untangling myself from versions of me that were built to keep others comfortable. And as I do, something unexpected is happening I feel lighter. I feel closer to myself than I have in years.
There’s a kind of sacred power in choosing to step back not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect. And with each boundary I set, with each old tie I let go, I feel myself stepping into a new season of life where I’m no longer living to be liked. I’m living to be authentic.
Of course, my story isn’t Veronika’s. I have responsibilities, roots, people I love deeply. I can’t drop everything and run away. But that doesn’t mean I can’t choose to live differently.
I can stop giving my energy to what drains me. I can choose peace over people-pleasing. I can live like I have nothing to lose not because life is ending, but because it’s far too precious to waste.
Maybe that’s what midlife is supposed to feel like not a crisis, but an awakening. A point where you stop numbing and start noticing, where you stop surviving and start living. It’s messy and scary and beautifully uncertain, but it’s also deeply liberating.
I don’t have all the answers yet but I do know this: I’m done existing on autopilot.
I’m ready to live with intention, to take risks that scare me, to build a life that doesn’t require an escape plan. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the lesson of this book it was teaching us all along that the life we crave isn’t waiting somewhere far away.
It’s waiting for us to choose it, right here, right now.
I woke up before dawn with a thought I couldn’t shake how many parts of me I’ve silenced just to make someone else feel comfortable.
How many times I’ve swallowed my own light to be the version of “enough” someone else needed.
The most important relationship you have is with yourself
It’s heartbreaking to admit how easy it was to disappear piece by piece. And even harder to face the truth: none of it ever worked. Because the people I kept contorting myself for?
They still found me too much, or not enough, or somehow both at once.
Now I’m doing something different. I’m calling those missing parts back.
I’m asking myself for forgiveness for betraying my own heart while trying to keep others happy.
For neglecting the things that made me feel alive. For forgetting that the love I was searching for has been here, within me, all along.
I’m relearning the things I once loved the joy of pen and paper, the ritual of capturing memories, the art of telling stories simply because they matter to me.
And every time I pick up a forgotten piece, I feel a little more like myself again.
This return is tender. It’s clumsy. It feels a little like being reborn fragile and uncertain, but full of hope.
Happiness shines from the inside
And maybe that’s what healing is: coming home to yourself after a long absence and promising you’ll never leave again.
The start of October feels like the perfect time to lean into reflection. I’ve been following my own journal challenge, where each day has a simple but powerful prompt.
These first three days have already opened me up to truths I needed to face.
October 1: Weather and Mood
The day was cold, and everything about it felt heavy. I wasn’t the only one who noticed the energy seemed to press down on everyone around me. My daughter and son both said the day felt rough, which only confirmed the weight in the air.
The weather mirrored my mood, leaving me sluggish and low. It reminded me how deeply the outside world can sink into my body and spirit.
What is this season calling you to?
October 2: A Habit to Change My Mornings
When I thought about small habits, journaling stood out. I know that if I begin my mornings with even a few lines on paper, I can reset my mindset. Writing helps me see the bigger picture, and it connects me back to the dream I have of becoming a journal therapy specialist.
I may not know the official name of that role yet, but I know what it means to me. This practice can shift my mornings from chaotic to intentional, from reactive to proactive.
October 3: Letting Go This Fall
This fall, I am letting go of doubt. I am releasing the belief that my dreams are too big or out of reach. The truth is, the future is uncertain and that scares me. But I cannot carry fear and faith at the same time. If I want to grow,
I have to choose courage. I want these last three months of the year to be proof that I can stay focused, keep showing up, and achieve what I set out to do.
These first three days of October reminded me that reflection doesn’t have to be perfect or long. It just has to be honest.
The weather, the habits, the letting go all of it adds up to small steps that shape the bigger picture.
If you’re walking through your own season of change, maybe these prompts can open a door for you too.
Honest storytelling as a form of healing. 