A Year of Falling, Rising, and Flirting With My Future

If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s this – 

Life often shifts long before you understand the direction it’s taking you.

It whispers before it shouts.

It nudges before it pushes.

Twelve months ago, I knew a change was coming, I could feel the ground shifting beneath me, but I had no idea how, or where, or who I would become because of it. I was walking through my California house, room by room, getting everything ready to sell. I knew I was closing a chapter I had lived in for years. And yet, all that waited ahead was a blank page. No map. No timeline. No promises. Just the quiet certainty that something had run its course… and something else was asking to begin.

The Descent That Became a Year

I didn’t know the year would unfold like a full-blown nosedive… not a crash, but a freefall into the truth of who I was becoming.

This was the year of:

• Letting go of the life I’d built in California

• Packing up everything familiar and driving across the country with Sadie and my sister, my built-in cheering section.  Finding laughter, comfort, and strength in every state line

• Navigating heartbreaks that felt like reruns and plot twists

• Starting over in Florida, learning the rhythm of thunderstorms, tides, and quiet bravery

• Building my division through some of the most challenging and defining moments of my leadership career

• Saying goodbye to Sadie just five weeks ago… a loss that is still drowning me and has rearranged every corner of my heart

Some falls were gentle.

Some knocked the breath out of me.

Some taught me exactly what I needed to know.

The Blog That Became a Map Back to Myself

Somewhere between packing boxes and unpacking emotions, I started writing.

And FlirtingWithMyFuture.blog became the place where I pieced myself back together.

• Turning the Corner

• Operation Get to Florida

• A Soft Landing in the East

• Crossroads, Candles & Chaos

• Some Weeks Break You, Some Weeks Build You

Each post was a breadcrumb. A whispered reminder.  A mirror I wasn’t afraid to face.

The blog wasn’t simply a collection of stories. It became a sanctuary, a private kind of therapy, where I could pour out the ache, trace the lessons, and find my way back to clarity, confidence, and courage.

Held By My People, Near and Far

If this year taught me anything, it’s how deeply I am loved.

My parents, with their unwavering steadiness, reminding me that home is wherever they are.

My children, grounding me in a love that feels both lifelong and new with every call and visit.

My siblings, supporting me, lifting me, laughing with me, and standing beside me when the road got steep.

And my friends… my incredible, irreplaceable friends.

Some showed up on my doorstep.  They called and answered calls at all hours.  A call or text away when I needed them most. And some, bless them, reached out from other countries, crossing oceans and time zones just to make sure I was okay.

Their support wasn’t loud, but it was constant. It didn’t fix the hard moments… it made them survivable. And sometimes, that is everything.

Lessons Only a Nosedive Can Teach

This year taught me:

• Endings are rarely failures; they’re invitations in disguise.

• Healing isn’t linear; it’s tidal.

• Your intuition is the compass you should have trusted all along.

• Grief is the echo of love… and the proof that it mattered.

• Storms can be clarifying if you let them be.

• I can rebuild from the ground up; emotionally, physically, geographically and do it beautifully.

• I don’t need perfect timing; I need willingness.

• I am braver, stronger, wiser, and more open than I have ever been.

And perhaps the greatest truth:

falling isn’t the failure, staying down is.  The rise is always waiting.

Gratitude, My Constant Companion

Even the heavy parts of this year carry gratitude.

I’m grateful for Sadie, for every mile and every quiet moment.

I’m grateful for my family, the ones who carried me through every beat of this transition.

I’m grateful for my friends, the near, the far, and the across-the-world, who held me with their words, presence, humor, and unwavering belief.

I’m grateful for the work that grounded me.

I’m grateful for the sunsets, the storms, the salt in the air, the space to breathe again.

I’m grateful for the person I am becoming through this journey.

Stopping to Smell the Roses

Now, in this new chapter, I’m learning to pause.

To breathe slower.

To walk softer.

To notice the beauty in the small, fleeting, unplanned moments.

The scent of sunscreen.

The warmth of the early sun.

The hush of the tide rolling in.

The memory of Sadie in the passenger seat.

The gratitude for the people who stayed beside me, through states, seasons, and storms.

This chapter isn’t chaotic.

It’s intentional.

Grounded.

Steady.

Mine.

The Rise

If this year was the nosedive,

then next year is the ascent.

Not because everything is perfect, but because I am different.

Stronger.

Softer.

More awake.

More grateful.

More me.

Still flirting, boldly, with what comes next.

And if the rise carries even half the love, growth, grit, and unexpected beauty this year held, then I’m ready.