Posted in inner peace, inspiration, life, life experience, Self Improvement

Today Tried Me… I Survived Anyway

I laughed when I opened my journal tonight because honestly, today was a mess. Not a single thing went the way I planned. And I’m not trying to sugarcoat that. It was a shitty day. One of those days that feels heavy from start to finish.

It started with a two-hour drive to work. Two hours just to get there. That alone set the tone. Somehow, I found good parking almost immediately, which never happens, but even that felt like a tiny win buried under exhaustion.

Then I got the call every parent dreads. My son had been in a fender bender. My heart dropped, instantly. But the relief came just as fast: he was okay. The accident wasn’t serious. The damage wasn’t terrible. We have insurance. It wasn’t even his fault. Could it affect our rates? Maybe. But we’ll deal with it if it does. What mattered was that he was safe. Everything else is just logistics.

Work was its own struggle. Things piled up. Stress sat heavy. I let myself feel it. I complained. I needed to get it out. But at some point, I caught myself and decided I didn’t want to stay in that space all day. So I did something simple and honestly kind of hard: I listed five good things about my day.

It took effort. This wasn’t one of those “gratitude comes easily” days. I had to reach for it.

  • I had a good lunch.
  • My mandarins were really good.
  • I found good parking.
  • My son was safe.
  • I made it to work safely.

That was it. Nothing deep. Nothing poetic. Just real.

Now I’m home. And that’s the part that matters most. I’m in my safe space, with my son and my dogs, and the day is finally over. I won’t pretend today wasn’t draining because it was. I feel depleted. But I also feel grateful. Grateful that when my son needed help, family could get to him quickly. Grateful for coworkers who told me to leave if I needed to. Grateful that no matter what happens with insurance or expenses, I’ll figure it out.

Life doesn’t always go how we want it to. Some days hit harder than others. This was one of them. But I’m proud of myself for not sitting in the negativity. I let it out, then I cut it off. I chose not to let the day define me.

Not every day is beautiful. Not every day feels inspiring. Some days are just about surviving them with your heart intact. Today was one of those days. And I’m thankful I made it through.

Posted in inner peace, inspiration, life, life experience, Self Improvement

A Softer Way To Live

Today feels like a milestone, not because of a number, but because of what has shifted inside me. I’ve been living with intention, and the peace it has created is something I didn’t even realize I was capable of sustaining. My mind feels quieter. My reactions feel softer. My days feel more meaningful.

For a long time, I believed peace came from silence. From meditation. From learning how to shut everything out. But for someone like me, whose mind has always been active, curious, and constantly processing, silence felt more like pressure than calm. I would lie there trying to meditate and instead replay my past, predict my future, and create problems that didn’t even exist yet. I wasn’t finding peace; I was amplifying my anxiety.

So instead of trying to silence my mind, I learned to guide it.

That’s what this practice has done for me. It hasn’t erased my thoughts, it’s given them direction. By choosing to write about what went right, I started training my brain to look for stability instead of stress, meaning instead of mistakes, and gratitude instead of frustration.

This isn’t about pretending life is perfect. Inconveniences still happen. Problems still show up. Systems still fail. Traffic still exists. But the difference is how I hold those moments.

Instead of saying, “What went wrong?”
I ask, “What did this teach me?”

Instead of saying, “This ruined my day,”
I ask, “What good still exists in it?”

And that subtle shift has been powerful.

It’s made me realize that peace isn’t found in perfect circumstances. It’s found in perspective. It’s found in how gently we treat ourselves when life doesn’t go as planned. It’s found in the way we choose to interpret our experiences.

This practice has also forced me into gratitude. Not forced in a rigid way, but in a grounding way. When I sit down to write, I have to pause and actually notice my day. I notice that I arrived safely. I notice moments of connection. I notice progress. I notice growth. I notice that even on hard days, something beautiful still existed.

That awareness alone feels like a form of meditation.
Not quiet.
Not empty.
But present.

What surprises me most is how this has changed my relationship with Sundays. They used to come with heaviness, with the mental countdown to Monday, with subtle anxiety about responsibilities waiting for me. Now, I feel curious instead of tense. I feel motivated instead of burdened. I feel excited to contribute, to learn, to write, and to see what meaning tomorrow holds.

That’s how I know something real has shifted.

And now, I feel this gentle pull to share it. Not because I think I have everything figured out, but because I know how desperately people search for peace. I know how isolating anxiety can feel. I know how many of us think we’re broken because our minds won’t slow down the way we’re told they should.

Maybe peace doesn’t always come from quieting the mind.
Maybe sometimes it comes from giving the mind something kinder to focus on.

The idea of sharing this beyond writing does make me nervous. The world isn’t always gentle. The internet isn’t always kind. But then I think about how many voices have helped me, how many stories have grounded me, how many strangers unknowingly gave me exactly what I needed. If I could do that for even one person, it would be worth it.

Maybe that’s part of living softly too.
Trusting your message.
Trusting your growth.
Trusting your peace.

This journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. It’s about choosing calm even when chaos is easier. It’s about learning that life doesn’t need to be flawless to be beautiful.

This is a softer way to live.
And I’m choosing it every day.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, Self Improvement

Calm Is Power

There was a time when a week like this would have completely unraveled me. The kind of week filled with delays, complications, emotional moments, and unexpected stressors. The kind that would’ve sent my mind racing, my patience thinning, and my anxiety convincing me that everything was spiraling.

But this week didn’t do that to me.
And that alone feels like growth.

It wasn’t a perfect week. It wasn’t even a calm one on paper. Payroll had hiccups. Work had challenges. I received emotional news from someone I love. Traffic was heavy. The circumstances were there. The triggers were there. But my reaction was different. I was different.

Instead of reacting, I paused.
Instead of panicking, I observed.
Instead of forcing solutions, I trusted myself to find them.

When payroll became complicated, I didn’t collapse into stress. I stepped back. I adjusted. I reminded myself that problems don’t mean failure, they mean process. That calmness, patience, and the right questions always lead to clarity. And they did.

When I received emotional news, I didn’t absorb it as fear. I saw it as timing. As placement. As trust that everything unfolds exactly when and where it needs to. I didn’t take responsibility for fixing what wasn’t mine to fix.

And when work threw challenges at me again, I didn’t do what I normally would’ve done: no anger, no impulsive thoughts of escape, no “I need to change everything right now” mindset. I simply paused. And that pause held more power than any reaction ever has.

The most telling moment came quietly. Driving to work. No music. No noise. No thinking. Just awareness. I realized I had been fully present for almost half an hour without effort. My mind wasn’t solving, planning, worrying, or replaying. It was resting.

That’s when I understood something deeply:
Being present isn’t hard.
Anxiety is.

Anxiety convinces us we need to control, predict, and manipulate outcomes to survive. Calmness reminds us that most things resolve without force. That we don’t need to grip life so tightly.

This week, I also allowed myself to dream, but differently. Not from a place of dissatisfaction. Not from longing. But from curiosity and softness. I thought about companionship, about partnership, and how beautiful it is when two people can create space for each other’s growth. How powerful it is when someone doesn’t have to carry life alone.

I imagined teaching. Writing. Guiding kids through creativity, journaling, and expression. I saw myself thriving in something rooted in purpose and connection. And for the first time, those dreams didn’t create pressure. They didn’t make my present feel inadequate. I allowed them to visit… and then I let them go.

That’s new for me.

Because now, I understand that I don’t have to chase my future. I only have to meet my present. If something is meant for me, it will find me while I’m living honestly, doing my best, and staying open.

Journaling has quietly changed everything. Writing gratitude without reliving the chaos. Honoring what went right without magnifying what went wrong. Letting thoughts pass instead of trapping them in my nervous system.

My sleep is better.
My workouts feel stronger.
My reactions are softer.
My heart is lighter.

I wasn’t becoming more powerful by being intense.
I became powerful by becoming calm.

And that’s the version of me I’m learning to protect.

Posted in inspiration, life experience, Self Improvement, Uncategorized

Living With Intention: 24 Days In, and My Mind Is Quiet

I didn’t start this on January 1st.
I started on December 26th. Something in me knew I didn’t need a “new year” to begin. I just needed a decision.

My intention for 2026 was simple but not easy:
to stop living in my head and start living in the moment.

I have a habit of overthinking.
Replaying the past.
Worrying about the future.
Letting anxiety write stories about things that haven’t even happened yet. And when I really sit with that truth, most of my stress isn’t caused by real events. It’s caused by my thoughts about them. My reactions. My rushing. My fear of what might be.

Anxiety, when you break it down, is just future worry.
And peace lives in the present.

So I made a promise:
I would live each day with intention.
And I would write every single day for 365 days.

Not to vent.
Not to complain.
Not to immortalize chaos.

But to notice.
To reflect.
To be grateful.
To learn.

Every entry starts with gratitude. Usually something as simple as:
“Today was a good day because…”

Some days the list is long.
Some days it’s short.
Some days I’m honest enough to say:
“There isn’t much to report today. This was a quiet, ordinary day. And that’s okay.”

Because not every day is meant to be exciting. Some days are just meant to exist.

I also decided something else that felt powerful:
I wouldn’t name people.
I wouldn’t place blame.
I would write about experiences, lessons, and growth. Not wounds.

And every single entry ends the same way:

Living today with intention.
— Mercy

That line anchors me. It reminds me that the day is complete. That I showed up. That I was present.

Today is January 18th.
Which means I’ve been doing this for 24 days.

Twenty-four days of choosing not to make chaos permanent.
Twenty-four days of allowing frustration to pass instead of turning it into ink.
Twenty-four days of honoring the day as a gift, even when it wasn’t easy.

And here’s the most unexpected part:

My mind is quiet.

Today is Sunday. Normally, Sundays used to come with anxiety.
The “week is starting” stress.
The mental checklist.
The anticipation of everything waiting for me.

But today?
My mind is calm.

I have plans, yes.
But they’re a blueprint, not a prison.

I’ve learned that structure helps me stay grounded, but surrender is where magic lives. Some of my best days have been the ones that went completely off-plan. The days I let flow. The days I stopped forcing and started trusting.

Have all 24 days been perfect? Absolutely not.

There were days I caught mistakes.
Days I was aggravated at work.
Days I wanted to lose my patience entirely.

I complained. I reacted. I felt human.

But when I got home, I didn’t give those moments permanent residence in my journal. I let them pass through me instead of defining me. I refused to stain an entire day with one heavy moment.

That was the difference.

Living with intention doesn’t mean living without frustration.
It means choosing what deserves permanence.

And what I’ve discovered is this:
Peace isn’t something you find.
It’s something you protect.

This practice hasn’t “fixed” me. I wasn’t broken.
But it has softened me.
Quieted me.
Returned me to myself.

I’m excited to see what writing every day with gratitude, reflection, and hope will do over time.
If 24 days can bring this much clarity, I can only imagine what a year will bring.

Living with intention works.
Not because life becomes easier,
but because you become steadier.

And right now, that’s exactly what I needed.

Living today with intention.
— Mercy

Posted in ageism, aging, life, life experience

When Did I Stop Being the Cool Girl?

I don’t even know what this blog is about yet. I just know something has been sitting with me lately, and apparently my brain decided to work through it via a dream… involving chocolate pudding. So here we are.

I’ve always worked in places where people were my age or older, so age was never really a thing. It was just a number. But lately, I realized I’ve become one of the oldest people in the room. Not ancient. Not “where’s my walker” old. Just… the one with the most life experience. And somehow that hits different.

I don’t feel old. I don’t think I look old. But I can feel the shift. The quiet repositioning. The way younger people look at you less like a peer and more like a responsible adult. Like someone who probably has snacks in their purse and knows how to file taxes. The energy changes from “she’s cool” to “she’s safe.” Which is flattering… but also, excuse me, I’m still cool.

And no, this isn’t about wanting to go to happy hour or trying to relive my 20s. You couldn’t pay me to stay out past 9:30 on a weeknight. This isn’t about wanting to be young again. It’s about realizing that even when you still feel vibrant, funny, and slightly chaotic in the best way, the world starts putting you in a different box.

Part of this is probably because I had my kids young. I got married at 21 (which now feels like something that should’ve required a permission slip), had my first baby at 23, and my second before I turned 24. So now, at 45, I have a 20 and a 21-year-old. Full-grown humans. With beards. And when people find out I’m their mom, they’re shocked. Which should make me feel like I’m winning, right?

But then I stand in front of the mirror.

Suddenly I’m analyzing every wrinkle like I’m an FBI investigator. Counting grays like they’re trying to form a rebellion. Even though I’ve had gray hair since my 20s and survived just fine. Even though I know aging is biology, stress, genetics, and life doing what life does. Still… here I am, casually Googling Botox like it’s not a personality shift.

Not because I hate who I am.
But because I’m trying to locate myself again.

And then came the dream.

In it, I decided I was going to be extra sweet at work. No complaining. No irritation. Just calm, nurturing energy. So I was in the kitchen making chocolate pudding for everyone (because obviously that’s how maturity shows up), and someone joked, “Here’s the mommy of the group making us dessert.”

I woke up in actual tears.

Not because they were mean.
Not because it was offensive.
But because something inside me whispered,
“When did I stop being the cool girl?”

It used to be, “You’re 33? You’re a baby!”
Now it’s, “You’re 45? I never would’ve guessed.”
Which is technically a compliment… but also a reminder that 45 is now considered a shocking number.

And honestly, our generation looks good. We don’t look like 45 used to look. The Golden Girls were my age and they were already calling it a wrap. Meanwhile, we’re lifting weights, drinking protein shakes, and debating collagen powders. We’re aging… but make it modern.

So maybe this isn’t about wanting to be younger.
Maybe it’s about realizing that aging isn’t about losing beauty.
It’s about shifting identity.

You trade:

  • novelty for depth
  • chaos for clarity
  • being “the cool girl” for being the grounded one

And that’s powerful… even if it sometimes feels like,
“Wow, I became the mom of the group without even getting a ceremony.”

So if you’re in your 40s and you occasionally stare at the mirror wondering when this transition happened, just know you’re not alone. You didn’t lose your spark. You just upgraded it.

Still cool.
Just with better boundaries and probably better skincare.