9. She Was a Badass

I missed my Sunday post this week.

I normally try to stay consistent here — showing up with words, stories, little pieces of my life — but these past few days have been full. I’ve been preparing for my daughter’s virtual baby shower, sorting details, wrapping love in small ways, and letting the emotions come as they wanted to.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, the creative spark just… quieted.

Not gone — just quieter.

I think that happens when we’re living the things we one day plan to write about.

But the quiet made me think about something I haven’t really put into words before:

What parts of my story do I want to live here, where my family — my grandchildren — may one day read it?

My purpose in writing has always been twofold:

1. It heals me.

To take what once felt heavy and give it shape.

To let the truth breathe instead of burying it.

2. It might reach someone who needs it.

Someone who feels stuck in darkness, addiction, shame, or regret.

Someone who needs to see proof that a life can be rebuilt from rubble.

Someone who needs to know they aren’t too far gone.

If even one person reads something I write and feels hope?

Then every vulnerable word is worth it.

But then there’s the part about my grandchildren.

One day, they may read my story — the messy parts included.

And I realized: I do not need them to think I was perfect.

I want them to know I was strong — even when it didn’t look like strength.

I want them to know I fell down, and I got back up — more than once.

I want them to see the parts of my life where I could have chosen to stay broken, but didn’t.

I want them to look back and be able to say:

“She wasn’t fragile.

She wasn’t defeated.

She was a badass.”

Not because everything went right — but because I kept going when it didn’t.

So even in this quieter week, when the words feel slower and I’m showing up a day late, I’m still here.

Still writing.

Still healing.

Still choosing to build a life I am proud to leave behind.

If you’re here reading this — thank you for being part of the story with me.