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.

Posted in life experience, Self Improvement

Everyone Should Record One Ugly-Cry Video (Trust Me)

I firmly believe everyone should record at least one ugly crying video during a personal crisis.

Let me be clear:
This is not for posting.
This is not for content.
This is not a “soft sad aesthetic with perfect lighting and a single tear.”

No. This is a full-blown, unfiltered, windshield-in-the-background, mascara-smudged, mouth-contorted, breathing-like-you-just-ran-a-marathon cry.

And the funniest part?
The setup.

Because in the middle of your emotional collapse, you still somehow think, “Let me prop my phone up real quick.”You’re adjusting angles, checking lighting, making sure your phone doesn’t fall, like, priorities. You’re in shambles, but still directing your own low-budget documentary.

I recorded one of these a while back. Totally forgot about it.
Fast forward to today: I’m cleaning up my phone, deleting old videos, feeling productive… and BAM.

There she is.

Me.
In my car.
Crying like an absolute idiot.
About being lonely.

I almost dropped my phone laughing.

First of all, there is nothing cute about crying. Anyone who says “crying can be beautiful” has never seen themselves mid-sob with their face doing things it has no business doing. My face looked like it was trying to escape my skull.

Second of all, the DRAMA.

I was watching it thinking, “Girl… if I could reach through this phone and slap you, I would.” The things I was crying over? The people? The situations? The absolute bare minimum I was begging for?

Embarrassing.
Historic levels of embarrassing.

What makes it even better is that now I’m out here writing blogs about how I can’t stand needy people. Meanwhile, past me was like, “Please love me” in surround sound. The irony is loud.

But here’s the thing: watching that video did something unexpected.

It reminded me that:

  1. Emotions are temporary. What feels like the end of the world today becomes comedy later.
  2. Growth is real. You don’t notice it while it’s happening, but playback does not lie.
  3. Humor is healing. Because honestly? That video deserves background music. Maybe a sad violin. Maybe something dramatic. Maybe a full voiceover just roasting myself.

I mean, journaling about my feelings is one thing. Writing about my wall? Fine. But physically watching myself cry like a jerk?

Top-tier comedy.
Five stars.
Highly recommend.

So no, don’t post it. Don’t share it. Don’t send it to friends.
Record it for you.

Because one day, future you is going to stumble across it, laugh until you snort, shake your head, and think, “Wow. Look at me now.”

And honestly?
That alone makes it worth pressing record. 😌

Posted in divorce, inspiration, life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

Practiced for Years, Perfected in 2025: A Full Circle Moment

As 2025 came to a close and 2026 began, we experienced something I never thought would fully come full circle, ending one year and beginning another together, peacefully, after years of putting our children first.

Over the years, my children’s father, their stepmom, and I have spent a lot of time together as a blended family. We’ve sat side by side at games, shared 2025 Father’s Day, celebrated milestones, and shown up when it mattered. There was never open conflict, but true emotional ease took time to develop, and if I’m being honest, there was a period where I showed up for my kids even when, internally, it didn’t feel completely comfortable yet. We did what needed to be done because it was right, even while peace was still growing.

For the first time ever, I rang in the New Year together, with my children’s father, their stepmom, their brothers, family friends, my children, and my own family, all in one place, on one night, under one roof.

What surprised me most wasn’t the gathering itself.
It was how calm it felt.

There was no anxiety. No discomfort. No feeling like I had to brace myself emotionally. I felt at home. I felt like I belonged, not just as a mother, but as part of the larger world my children live in.

As we were leaving that night, my youngest son, now 20 years old, said something I will never forget:

“Mom, today was great. This is the first New Year’s I can remember where I didn’t have to stop at midnight to call one of my parents.”

His father and I divorced when he was two, and his brother was three. Hearing that made me realize something profound: this moment wasn’t just about us, it was about years of choices finally coming full circle.

If there’s one thing my children’s father and I should truly be proud of, it’s this, we never used our kids against each other.

No matter what we were navigating personally, we always shared the important days. Holidays, birthdays, milestones, we made sure neither of us missed out. Our feelings never outweighed what was best for our children.

Was it always easy? Absolutely not.

There were moments early on when we couldn’t even look at each other. But even then, the common ground remained the same: the well-being of our kids came first.

I never spoke poorly about their father to them.
He never spoke poorly about me.

If there was a punishment in one house, it stood in the other. Respect didn’t change depending on which parent they were with. Our boys learned consistency, accountability, and respect, no matter where they were.

Looking back, I realize how rare that is.

So often, separation turns a child’s world into a battlefield. Adults get lost in their own pain, their own narratives, and forget how deeply children feel the tension, even when it’s unspoken.

I don’t believe people should stay together if they are unhappy. But I do believe that if you choose to part ways, you owe it to your children to make their world as peaceful as possible within your capacity.

I’m also grateful for the role my children’s stepmom has played. Stepping into a parenting role for children that aren’t biologically yours isn’t easy. I’m sure she has her own reflections, things she wishes she did differently and things she’s proud of. I know I do too.

There were times in my life when step-parent dynamics felt like a competition. But now, with my children grown and perspective gained, I see it clearly:

We all fit in their lives at the same time.
Each of us holds an important place.

No, this wasn’t the life I imagined when I was young. No one gets married expecting divorce or blended family complexities. But given the circumstances, I can honestly say, we did good.

And I’m grateful that 2025 ended in a way that felt like closure.

Because for the first time in their lives, my children welcomed a new year with both parents under the same roof, without animosity, without tension—just love, respect, and blended family togetherness that felt seamless.

That felt like peace.
And that felt like winning.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, Self Improvement

When Gratitude Interrupts Anxiety

I once heard that you can’t hold faith and anxiety at the same time. I don’t remember where I heard it or who said it, but the idea stayed with me. The suggestion was simple: when your mind starts drifting into anxiety about the future or replaying stress from the past, shift your focus to gratitude. Write it down. Say it out loud. Anchor yourself in what’s good right now.

This past Sunday, I woke up feeling anxious for no clear reason. It wasn’t dramatic, and it wasn’t tied to anything specific. Just that quiet, unsettling feeling that shows up uninvited. Almost like my body was searching for something to worry about, as if calm itself felt unfamiliar.

Instead of fighting it, I grabbed my journal.

I decided to write down everything good that had happened that day, no matter how small. I started with the basics: I was able to take my son to the airport and make it home safely. I fell back asleep. I woke up rested. I went to church with my mom. I shared breakfast with my son. Moment by moment, I filled the page with ordinary things that, in reality, were anything but ordinary.

By the time I finished writing, I realized something surprising: the anxiety was gone.

The next morning, I felt that same uneasiness creeping in again. This time, instead of writing, I simply said out loud three things I was grateful for and three things I was looking forward to that day. Almost immediately, the tension lifted. Not because anything in my life had changed, but because my focus had.

Gratitude pulled me into the present moment. It didn’t allow me to live ahead of time, and it didn’t let me sit in the past. It forced me to stay right where my feet were, focused on what I could control, not what I couldn’t.

Living this way, with intention, has become the theme of my year. I’m learning that peace isn’t found by eliminating uncertainty, but by choosing presence. My hope is that this practice becomes so natural that it feels instinctive.

We live in a world designed to keep us anxious. Social media feeds us unrealistic versions of life. The news thrives on urgency and fear, constantly reminding us of everything going wrong that we have no power to fix. Bad things have always existed, but we weren’t meant to carry the weight of the entire world every single day.

I’m not claiming to have the cure for anxiety. I don’t. But I’ve learned that gratitude is a powerful interruption. It brings you back to now. And sometimes, that’s enough.

If this reflection helps even one person pause, breathe, and choose intention over anxiety, then it’s worth sharing.

Posted in inspiration, life, life experience, love, Self Improvement

Maybe It’s Me, And I’m Finally Ok With That

Earlier today, a coworker casually asked me about my recent dating experience. Without overthinking it, I said what I’ve said before: he was too needy.

She smiled and said, “You know… you said the same thing about the last person you dated.”

I laughed. But this time, instead of brushing it off, I paused. And for the first time, I said out loud, “Maybe it’s me.”

That thought stayed with me longer than I expected. So later, out of curiosity, I decided to look inward instead of outward. I asked myself, and yes, ChatGPT, what kind of attachment style I actually have.

Because here’s the truth: I genuinely love love. I love the beginning of a connection. I love meeting someone new, the conversations that flow easily, the curiosity, the excitement of learning someone’s mind. That stage feels light, fun, alive.

But there’s a very specific moment when something shifts for me.

It’s when the connection stops feeling like two people choosing each other and starts feeling like someone attaching themselves to me emotionally. When all of my time is suddenly expected. When from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, I feel like I have to be “on.” When my life quietly becomes someone else’s routine.

That’s when I feel myself pulling back.

I don’t find it romantic when someone doesn’t have a full life of their own. When their interests fade, their world shrinks, and everything begins to revolve around me. Instead of feeling desired, I feel responsible. Instead of feeling connected, I feel drained. And if I’m being honest, it becomes deeply unattractive to me.

What surprised me most is that this doesn’t come from fear. I’m not afraid of intimacy. I don’t avoid closeness. What I avoid is enmeshment.

The attachment style that best describes me is often referred to as secure-avoidant, someone who values emotional connection but also deeply values autonomy. Someone who wants love, but not at the cost of losing themselves. Someone who thrives in relationships where closeness is intentional, not automatic.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this isn’t limited to romantic relationships at all.

I’ve never been the person who needs to see the same friend every single day. I’ve had the same close circle of friends my entire life, but I’ve always valued space. Even with family, whom I adore, I can happily spend a day or two together, but by the third day, I crave time alone. Not because I don’t love them, but because that’s how I stay grounded in who I am.

That’s just my nature.

What I’ve come to understand is that I haven’t yet found someone whose rhythm truly matches mine, someone who enjoys their own company, has their own passions, their own routines, their own inner world. Someone who doesn’t need me to fill every space, but still chooses to share space with me.

I don’t want distance.
I don’t want constant closeness either.

I want balance.

I want a relationship where two independent people walk alongside each other, not one person becoming the other’s entire world. I want connection without pressure, love without obligation, and intimacy that feels chosen every day, not assumed.

So maybe it is me.

And maybe that doesn’t mean something is wrong.

Maybe it just means I know myself now.