I didn't know that healing would feel less like a glow-up and more like a demolition site with great lighting. It’s sold to us as a tidy arc: breakdown, breakthrough, soft lighting, thriving. A before-and-after montage with just the right filter and a sudden yoga habit. But real healing? Real transformation? It’s messy. It’s confrontational.… Continue reading This Isn’t the Glow-Up They Promised
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 16 I used to think desire meant surrender.That if you felt the heat, you had to follow it.That wanting someone meant saying yes with your body,even when your heart hadn't caught up. I’ve learned better. These days, I’m no longer rushing toward the spark without checking where it leads.I’m… Continue reading Wanting Without Losing Myself
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 14 I used to imagine my future with a kind of cinematic precision. I’d be settled by now.A partner. A house. A shared Sunday morning routine.Some combination of arms to fall into, and someone who always remembers to pick up milk. But instead, I’m 46. Almost 47. A solo… Continue reading Exactly Where I Should Be
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 13 I used to think joy was something reserved for special occasions.A vacation. A celebration. A permission slip. Or maybe something I had to earn, once the work was done, the bills paid, the responsibilities checked off. I thought love had to be proven.That joy had to be justified.That… Continue reading Joy, After All
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 10 I used to think life would unfold the way I planned it. If I showed up, worked hard, loved deeply, and kept trying, things would fall into place on my timeline. But life doesn’t care much for timetables. Or five-year plans. Or tidy endings tied up with a… Continue reading Learning to Let Go
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 7 There was a time when I couldn’t feel anything. I don’t mean numb like bored or apathetic.I mean a kind of emotional frostbite, a dull ache in place of what used to be light.A blank space where joy, excitement, even sadness used to live. I went through the… Continue reading The Year My Heart Went Numb
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 4 When I was younger, I hated hugs. It’s not like I grew up in a house without affection. But somewhere along the way, a hug became something that made me freeze. Like my body forgot what to do. Arms stiff. Heart racing. Eyes wide. I would default to… Continue reading The Girl Who Hated Hugs
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 3 I had my first boyfriend as a freshman in high school. I’m still not entirely sure how it moved from noticing him across the cafeteria to him being my official bf. Maybe it was the “fresh meat” effect at a small school. I was new, wide-eyed, and visibly… Continue reading First Kiss, Last Straw
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 2 Because I am a sucker for sharing all of my awkward, embarrassing late bloomer moments, I figured… why not make a series out of them? Because I have a lot of them. As a preteen and teen, I was expert-level at having a crush. Unreciprocated, of course.Some might… Continue reading What to Do With My Arms
Sometimes we meet someone and feel a flicker of something we can't name.Not love, not friendship—yet—but recognition. A resonance that stirs the air between us. A pull that says, “Pay attention.” These early moments, where we feel a connection but don’t yet understand the why, are potent.They hold the power to awaken us. Not because… Continue reading When the Soul Remembers Before the Mind Understands
