Five years. When I say that out loud, it feels surreal. Herald Beauty turns five on April 11, and if you’ve been on this journey with me, you know this isn’t just an anniversary. It’s a milestone. It’s proof. It’s resilience in real time. What started as an idea, a vision to create space for beauty, wellness, culture, and conversation centered around an often overlooked but incredibly powerful audience  has grown into something I’m deeply proud of.


And we’re celebrating the only way we know how: intentionally and beautifully. On April 11, we’re gathering for brunch, connection, cocktails, and community. Expect espresso martinis powered by Rémy Martin (because we do nothing basic around here), beauty product moments from Palmer’s and KAO Brands, curated vibes, and a room filled with people who believe in what Herald Beauty represents. This isn’t just a party.It’s a thank you.


Five years ago, I knew there was a gap. I knew women who looked like me deserved elevated experiences, meaningful content, and events that felt thoughtful and intentional. I knew our buying power, our influence, and our presence mattered even when others didn’t always see it.
Building Herald Beauty has not been easy.


There have been seasons of expansion and seasons of stretching. There have been partnerships that flourished and opportunities that disappeared. There have been moments when I questioned whether I should pivot, shrink, or rebrand to fit what felt more “acceptable.”
But here’s what I’ve learned: when you build something rooted in purpose, it sustains you even when the road gets hard.


Herald Beauty has become more than a platform. It’s a community. It’s a room where beauty conversations feel inclusive. Where wellness includes mental, emotional, and physical care. Where entrepreneurship is transparent. Where culture is celebrated, not watered down.
Five years means we’ve survived trends. We’ve navigated shifting corporate priorities. We’ve adapted to changing landscapes. And through it all, the heart has remained the same.


Celebrate. Elevate. Connect.


This anniversary is about honoring that consistency.
It’s about honoring every attendee who bought a ticket. Every brand that believed in the vision. Every speaker who poured into our audience. Every reader who shared a blog. Every woman who felt seen in our space.


And yes it’s also about honoring growth. Because the next five years? They’re going to be even bigger. April 11 will be a reflection of what Herald Beauty does best: curated experiences that feel elevated but welcoming. Thoughtful but fun. Stylish but substance-driven. We’ll toast with espresso martinis powered by Rémy Martin. We’ll indulge in beauty products from Palmer’s and KAO Brands. We’ll brunch. We’ll connect. We’ll laugh. We’ll celebrate what happens when vision meets community.


And if you’ve ever wondered how you can support this is your moment. You can grab a ticket. You can sponsor a seat. You can even become a $50 logo sponsor no business required, just your name and your support. Because in today’s world, sustaining platforms that center our community requires collective effort. And I don’t take that lightly.


Herald Beauty turning five is personal for me. It represents consistency. It represents belief. It represents choosing to keep going even when it would have been easier to pivot into something safer. We didn’t build this to blend in. We built this to stand out.


On April 11, we celebrate five years of doing exactly that. Tickets and sponsorship opportunities are available now. I can’t wait to see you in the room. Here’s to five years of beauty, culture, and community and to everything that’s still coming

Listen.Turning 40 deserves a moment. And if I’m going into a new decade, I’m going in snatched. Let me be clear, this is not about insecurity. I’ve felt confident at every size. This is about enhancement. Intention. Doing what makes me feel good.


First stop: Chasing Beauty in Dayton.
I started liquid lipo shots as part of my pre-40 glow-up. Liquid lipo injections help target stubborn fat areas by breaking down fat cells so your body can naturally process them. It’s non-surgical, minimal downtime, and works best when paired with healthy habits. What I love is that it’s strategic. It’s not extreme. It’s supportive.


And because I believe in doing things the right way, I paired it with lymphatic massage at Viva Body Sculpt here in Cincinnati. If you’re doing any kind of body sculpting, lymphatic massage is key. It helps your body drain excess fluid, reduce inflammation, and enhance results. Plus  let’s be honest  it feels amazing. At Viva Body Sculpt, the focus is on helping your body move what it no longer needs. The results? Less bloating. More contour. That smooth, sculpted look. And here’s the real tea: this isn’t about chasing perfection. It’s about feeling intentional in my skin as I enter 40.


I work out. I eat mindfully. I take care of myself. These treatments are enhancements not replacements. There’s power in saying, “I want to feel my best.” There’s also power in doing it without shame. So yes, I’m getting my waist snatched. Yes, I’m investing in myself. Yes, I’m doing it confidently. Because 40 is not about shrinking. It’s about refining.
And I plan to step into this decade feeling strong, sculpted, and aligned.

I turn 40 on Saturday. Forty.


There was a time when that number felt far away. Now it feels powerful. Earned. Sacred. As this birthday approaches, I’ve found myself reflecting more than celebrating not in a heavy way, but in an intentional one. Because 40 doesn’t feel like an ending. It feels like alignment.


First, I’m reflecting on resilience.


I’ve survived things I never saw coming. Losing my dad. Navigating grief publicly and privately. Reinventing myself more than once. Watching doors close that I was sure were meant for me. And yet, I’m still here. Still building. Still dreaming. That alone is worth celebrating.


I’m reflecting on courage.


There were seasons where I bet on myself when no one else did. I left stability to pursue entrepreneurship full time. I built platforms for women who look like me when others said the audience was “too niche.” I kept going through uncertainty. Forty feels like proof that courage compounds.


I’m reflecting on softness.


For so long, I wore strength like armor. Hustle. Push. Perform. Achieve. But this new decade? I want ease. I want joy without guilt. I want rest without explanation. I’ve learned that softness is not weakness. It’s wisdom.


I’m reflecting on identity.
At 20, I was becoming. At 30, I was building. At 40, I am choosing. Choosing what feels aligned. Choosing who gets access to me. Choosing peace over proving.


I’m also reflecting on comparison.


It’s so easy to look around and measure your timeline against someone else’s. But I’ve learned something powerful: what is for you cannot miss you. My journey may not look like everyone else’s and that’s okay.
Forty feels like confidence without apology. I’m not trying to be liked by everyone. I’m trying to be aligned with myself.


And finally, I’m reflecting on gratitude.


Grateful for my family. Grateful for my community. Grateful for every lesson that shaped me. Even the painful ones. Especially the painful ones. Because they refined me. As I step into this new decade, I’m not asking, “Am I enough?” I know I am. I’m asking, “What do I desire next?”


Forty feels like freedom. Forty feels like focus.Forty feels like favor.
And I’m walking into it with intention, style, and a whole lot of gratitude.

Black History Month is often about the names we read in books. The pioneers. The activists. The history-makers who changed laws, shifted culture, and opened doors. But for me, Black history has always had a face I knew personally. My father, Dr. Odell Moreno Owens.


To the city of Cincinnati, he was a physician, a public servant, a leader, and a force. To many, he was a trailblazer who broke barriers in medicine and public health. But to me, he was simply Dad. That’s what makes this month so personal.


Dr. Owens dedicated his life to serving others. As a physician and longtime Hamilton County Coroner, he stood at the intersection of medicine, justice, and community. He showed up in spaces that historically were not built for Black men and he didn’t just occupy them, he led in them.


That matters.


Black history isn’t just about surviving systems. It’s about transforming them. And my father did that quietly, consistently, and with excellence.

He believed in service. Not the glamorous kind. The real kind. The kind that requires late nights, difficult decisions, and unwavering integrity. He understood that being a Black man in leadership meant carrying both responsibility and representation. He knew eyes were always watching and he carried himself in a way that made me proud long before I understood the weight of what he was doing.


Growing up, I didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of his career. I just knew he was respected. I knew people greeted him with admiration. I knew his work mattered. As I’ve gotten older, I understand it differently. He wasn’t just building a career. He was building access. He was building trust in communities that needed it. He was building a legacy that would outlive him.


Black History Month reminds us that representation is powerful. Seeing someone who looks like you in positions of authority reshapes what feels possible. My father was that for so many people. A Black physician. A public official. A decision-maker in rooms where very few people looked like him. And at home? He was a father who instilled confidence, discipline, and pride.


He taught me that excellence isn’t optional, it’s expected.

He taught me that your name carries weight.

He taught me to walk into rooms knowing I belong there.


His career was rooted in science and service, but his impact was deeply human. He cared about people. He cared about community. He cared about doing things the right way, even when it wasn’t easy.


That is Black history.


It’s easy to celebrate the national figures and we absolutely should. But Black history also lives in our cities. In our neighborhoods. In our families. It lives in leaders like Dr. Odell Moreno Owens, who dedicated decades to improving public health and serving Cincinnati with distinction.


After losing him unexpectedly, I’ve carried both grief and gratitude. Grief because I miss him every day. Gratitude because I had a front-row seat to greatness. Not performative greatness. Purpose-driven greatness. His legacy is not just in titles or headlines. It’s in the lives he impacted. The systems he strengthened. The doors he opened for others. And it’s in me.


When I show up boldly in media. When I build platforms for our community. When I refuse to shrink that is part of his legacy too.
This Black History Month, I honor the icons. I honor the trailblazers. And I honor my father.


Dr. Odell Moreno Owens is Black history.


Not just because of what he accomplished but because of who he was. And I am proud to carry his name forward.

Valentine’s Day used to feel like it belonged to couples. Now? It belongs to me. This season of my life has taught me something powerful: loving yourself isn’t selfish. It’s necessary. And whether you’re partnered, single, healing, rebuilding, thriving, or somewhere in between  February 14th can be about pouring back into you. So this year, I’m being intentional. No waiting on flowers. No hoping someone else plans something thoughtful. I’m planning it for myself.


Here are five things I’m doing to love on me this Valentine’s Day — and maybe you should too.


1. Booking a Lymphatic Massage
Let’s start here because whew — the body holds everything. Stress. Grief. Hormones. Travel. Work. Life. A lymphatic massage isn’t just about aesthetics (although we love a good de-bloat moment). It’s about circulation, detoxification, and helping your body reset. I’ve learned that loving myself includes taking care of what people can’t see. There’s something powerful about laying still, breathing deeply, and letting your body release what it’s been holding onto. It’s soft. It’s intentional. It’s healing. And honestly? We deserve to feel light.


2. Planning a Luxe Staycation
Who said you have to leave the city to escape? This Valentine’s Day, I’m checking into a luxe hotel right here at home. Fresh sheets. Fluffy robes. Room service. Silence. No laundry staring at me. No dishes in the sink. Just vibes. There is something transformative about changing your environment — even for 24 hours. It signals to your brain that you are resting on purpose. I plan to order breakfast in bed, take a long shower with no timer on it, journal, maybe even turn my phone on Do Not Disturb. Rest is romantic. Peace is luxury. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do for yourself is unplug.


3. Buying Myself Flowers (And the Gift)
I used to think buying yourself flowers was a little dramatic. Now? It feels divine. Why wait for someone else to surprise you when you know exactly what you like? A bouquet in my favorite colors. A candle I’ve been eyeing. Maybe that piece of jewelry I keep adding to cart.
Loving yourself means celebrating yourself out loud. Flowers on my counter remind me that I am worthy of beautiful things, even if I’m the one who bought them. Especially if I’m the one who bought them.


4. Moving My Body in a Way That Feels Good
Not punishment. Not pressure. Not “burning off dinner.” Just movement that feels good. Maybe it’s Pilates. Maybe it’s a long walk with a playlist that makes me feel unstoppable. Maybe it’s stretching slowly and reconnecting to my body. For so long, we’re taught to move our bodies for appearance. I’m choosing to move mine for appreciation. My legs carry me. My heart beats for me. My body deserves gratitude, not criticism.


5. Writing Myself a Love Letter
This one is tender. I’m writing a letter to myself thanking myself for surviving hard seasons, for showing up when it wasn’t easy, for evolving, for growing, for still believing in love even when it looks different than I imagined. We are so quick to criticize ourselves. But when was the last time you affirmed yourself? Valentine’s Day is the perfect excuse. Because the longest relationship you will ever have is with you.


Here’s what I know: loving yourself isn’t a trend. It’s a practice. It’s booking the massage. It’s checking into the hotel. It’s buying the flowers. It’s choosing rest. It’s choosing you. So whether you’re celebrating with someone else or solo this year, I hope you carve out time to love on yourself deeply and intentionally. You are worthy of the same care you give everyone else.


Happy Valentine’s Day from me to me. And from me to you.

​Lately, life has been asking me to move differently. As I approach 40, I’ve found myself reflecting more than rushing. That’s new for me. I’ve been an entrepreneur for most of my adult life- fifteen years of building brands, creating opportunities, and showing up even when I was tired. Especially when I was tired. Momentum was my comfort zone. Productivity felt like purpose.


Losing my dad changed the way I experience everything: work, ambition, time, even joy. The version of me that could push through anything no longer fit the life I was living. And while I wasn’t stuck, I was definitely misaligned. I could feel it in my body. In my decisions. In the quiet resistance I felt toward things that once excited me.


That’s when I realized I wasn’t broken, I was evolving. That’s why I’m glad I came across The 828 Leadership Group’s Congruence Gap Assessment. I wasn’t looking for answers. I just wanted clarity. Language. Something to help me understand why my inner world and outer life felt slightly out of sync.


The idea of congruence: living in alignment with your values, identity, and daily actions,hit me deeply. Because grief has a way of rearranging your priorities. And turning 40? That milestone doesn’t whisper. It asks real questions. Honest ones. The kind you can’t bypass with busyness.


The assessment felt less like a test and more like a mirror. It gently prompted me to reflect on who I am now—not who I used to be, not who I thought I needed to be to succeed. It helped me see where I was still operating from old expectations and where my values had quietly shifted.


There was something incredibly grounding about naming the gap instead of fighting it.


What I appreciated most is that it didn’t demand immediate change. It didn’t tell me to fix or overhaul my life. It simply offered awareness—and sometimes awareness is the most compassionate form of self-care. Especially for women who are used to carrying it all.


For my Professional Pretty community, especially my fellow entrepreneurs, creatives, and women navigating grief or transition - this matters. We are allowed to evolve. We are allowed to pause. We are allowed to question the lives we once built with intention and decide what still fits.


Alignment isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing what’s true. The Congruence Gap Assessment is free, which makes it accessible in the best way. No pressure. No commitment. Just a moment to sit with yourself honestly. I recommend taking it slowly with coffee in hand, phone on silent, heart open. Let it be a check-in, not a critique.


If you’ve been feeling restless, disconnected, or quietly craving clarity, this could be a meaningful place to start. Not because it has all the answers—but because it helps you ask better questions. Sometimes, that’s where healing, growth, and the next chapter begin.


If this resonates, I invite you to take The 828 Leadership Group’s Congruence Gap Assessment for yourself. Consider it a gift of awareness, one that meets you exactly where you are.

I’ve gone back and forth about sharing this.


Not because I’m ashamed but because my relationship with my body, health, and wellness has evolved so much over the years. And some journeys feel deeply personal until you’re ready to speak from a place of clarity instead of explanation. But I’m excited to finally share my GLP-1 journey, because for me, it’s been about so much more than weight or aesthetics. It’s been about support, structure, and setting myself up for sustainable success.


Like many women, especially entrepreneurs I’ve spent years pushing through exhaustion, stress, travel, grief, and hormonal shifts while expecting my body to just “keep up.” I’ve done all the right things. I’ve moved my body. I’ve eaten well. I’ve tried to manage stress. And still, I found myself feeling stuck, frustrated, and out of sync with the woman I knew I was becoming.
GLP-1 wasn’t a shortcut for me—it was a tool.


A tool that helped quiet the constant food noise. A tool that supported my metabolism. A tool that allowed me to make clearer, more intentional choices without feeling like I was fighting myself every step of the way. And most importantly, it helped me feel back in control of my health during a season where so much felt unpredictable. What surprised me most wasn’t just the physical changes—it was the mental shift. I wasn’t obsessing. I wasn’t restricting. I wasn’t negotiating with myself all day long. I finally had the space to focus on nourishment, movement, and consistency instead of guilt.


And that’s the part I don’t hear talked about enough.


GLP-1 has supported my lifestyle not replaced it. I still eat. I still enjoy food. I still live my life. But now, my choices feel calmer and more aligned with my long-term goals. It’s helped me build habits that actually feel sustainable instead of punishing. I also want to be clear: choosing GLP-1 doesn’t mean you’ve failed at anything. It doesn’t mean you didn’t try hard enough. It doesn’t mean you’re taking the “easy way out.” Our bodies are complex, especially as we age, experience stress, or navigate grief and hormonal changes. Support isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.


One of the reasons I felt comfortable moving forward is accessibility. Through Ivy RX, GLP-1 starts as low as $175 per month, making it a realistic option for people who want medical support without jumping through endless hoops. The process is straightforward, discreet, and designed to meet you where you are. If you’ve been curious, hesitant, or quietly wondering if GLP-1 could be right for you, I encourage you to explore it without judgment. Education is power—and so is choice.


And because I believe in sharing resources that have genuinely helped me, I’m passing this along: you can use my code Morgan50 to receive $50 off all GLP-1 products.


You can learn more or enroll here: https://enroll.ivyrx.com/morgan9fr


Whether you decide GLP-1 is part of your journey or not, my hope is that this opens the door to more honest conversations around health, body autonomy, and support. We’re allowed to evolve. We’re allowed to use tools. We’re allowed to choose what helps us feel our best.
​
This chapter of my life is about intention—inside and out. And sharing this feels aligned with that. If you have questions, curiosities, or just want to talk about navigating wellness in a real, nuanced way, I’m always here

​For a long time, I believed facials had to be long, drawn-out experiences to be effective. Ninety minutes. Robes. Full decompression. And while I love a luxe, unhurried spa day, I’ve learned something important lately: sometimes the most impactful self-care fits perfectly into real life.
Enter the 20-minute facial.


Before hitting the road whether it’s for a flight, a long drive, or a beauty and wellness day trip- Ultraskinhub inside Kenwood Mall has become my go-to stop. It’s quick, intentional, and surprisingly transformative. Proof that caring for your skin doesn’t always require a major time commitment just the right approach.


Every great wellness day starts with skin. How your skin feels sets the tone for how you move through the rest of your day. When my complexion feels dry, dull, or stressed, everything else feels a little off. That’s why I’m a big believer in starting with a fresh base, especially before travel. A 20-minute facial at Ultraskinhub does exactly that—it resets your skin without slowing down your schedule.


I tried the Soothe Facial. It’s calming, hydrating, and immediately revives tired skin. If you’ve been dealing with dryness, irritation, or that “my face needs help” feeling, this treatment meets you where you are. There’s something deeply reassuring about seeing visible results in such a short amount of time, skin that looks brighter, feels softer, and carries a healthy glow before you even step outside.

​What truly sets Ultraskinhub apart, though, is their facial skin analysis. Instead of guessing what your skin needs or defaulting to whatever is trending, the team takes a customized approach. They walk you through what’s happening with your skin and why, then tailor the treatment accordingly. It’s informative without being overwhelming and empowering without being sales-driven.


I love that the experience feels efficient but never rushed. You’re in and out, yet fully cared for. It’s the kind of self-care that actually fits into a busy lifestyle whether you’re squeezing it in on your lunch break, before a flight, or as the first stop on a wellness-focused day.

There’s also something mentally grounding about choosing yourself in a small but intentional way. A 20-minute facial feels accessible. It removes the “I don’t have time” excuse we’re all guilty of using. And it reminds you that self-care doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Sometimes, consistency beats extravagance.


Travel can be tough on skin from changes in climate, recycled air, dehydration, stress. Starting your journey with skin that’s calm and hydrated makes a noticeable difference. You arrive feeling more polished, more confident, and more like yourself. And honestly? That matters.

Ultraskinhub’s location inside Kenwood Mall makes it even more practical. You can pair your facial with errands, shopping, or a quick coffee run and still feel like you’ve done something meaningful for yourself. It’s wellness woven into everyday life—and that’s the kind of beauty routine that actually sticks.


If you’re someone who’s been curious about facials but intimidated by the time or commitment, this is your sign. A 20-minute facial proves that you don’t need hours to see results—just the right hands, the right products, and a little intention. Before your next trip, meeting, or busy day, consider starting with your skin. Because when your skin feels good, everything else flows a little easier. And sometimes, the smallest rituals make the biggest difference.

In less than a month, I turn 40.


Just typing that feels surreal. Not because I’m afraid of the number but because of everything it represents. The lessons. The losses. The growth. The becoming. I’ve lived a lot of life in these 40 years, and this next chapter feels different. Quieter in some ways. Louder in others. More intentional. So instead of throwing myself a traditional birthday resolution or another vague promise to “do better,” I’m doing something that feels more honest.


This year, I’m committing to 40 for 40. Forty things I’m doing for myself, without guilt. No explanations. No justifications. No performing productivity or turning joy into a side hustle. Just choosing me. For most of my adult life, I’ve been in build mode. Building brands, businesses, opportunities, and a life I could be proud of. I’ve poured into others generously, sometimes at the expense of myself. And while I don’t regret that, I’ve learned that constantly being “the strong one” comes with a cost.


Especially after grief.


Losing my dad shifted how I see time. It made me acutely aware that “someday” isn’t promised and that waiting to enjoy life until everything is perfect is a gamble I’m no longer willing to take. Turning 40 feels like an invitation to live more fully now, not later. So 40 for 40 is exactly what it sounds like. Forty experiences, choices, moments, and acts of self-honoring that I’ve been wanting to do, love to do, or feel called to try. Some will be big. Some will be beautifully simple. Some may look indulgent. Others may be quiet and restorative. All of them will be mine.


This isn’t about being reckless or irresponsible. It’s about releasing the guilt that so many of us, especially women carry when we prioritize ourselves. The guilt for resting. For spending money on joy. For saying no. For doing something just because it feels good. This year, I’m done negotiating with myself about my own happiness.


Some of the things on my list are experiences I’ve put off because I was “too busy.” Others are things I’ve talked myself out of because they didn’t feel practical or productive enough. And some will be spontaneous because listening to my intuition is part of the practice. What I love most about this series is that it gives me permission to explore who I am now. Not who I was at 25. Not who I needed to be to survive certain seasons. But who I am becoming at 40 with more clarity, more softness, and a deeper respect for my own needs.


I’ll be sharing parts of my 40 for 40 journey as it unfolds—what I’m doing, what I’m learning, and how it feels to choose myself out loud. Not to impress anyone, but to remind myself (and maybe you) that joy is allowed. Pleasure is allowed. Rest is allowed. If you’re reading this and feeling a little tug in your spirit, I want to ask you something: What would you do for yourself if guilt wasn’t in the room?


And because I believe in community, I want to invite you into this with me. If you have suggestions- experiences, rituals, trips, challenges, indulgences, or simple joys you think I should add to my 40 for 40 list—please let me know.

​Drop them in the comments, send me a message, or share what you’d do for your own version of this. This year isn’t about proving anything. It’s about living. And I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

Lately, I’ve been really sad.

At first, I tried to make it make sense in a way that felt productive. I told myself it was business stress. Deadlines. Pressure. The weight of always building, creating, and showing up. That explanation felt easier—more controllable. But when I slowed down and really listened to myself, I realized the truth was quieter and heavier. It’s my heart.

As I get closer to a milestone birthday, my thoughts keep circling back to my dad. The memories are vivid, almost intrusive in the gentlest way. I can hear his laugh. I can picture his face. I can almost hear him saying, “You’re turning 40, girl?! Are you sure?!” in that playful, loving way that made everything feel lighter.

That’s the thing about grief. People say it gets easier, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. It doesn’t disappear or shrink it just changes shape. It shows up differently as time goes on. Sometimes it’s loud and consuming. Other times, it’s subtle, tucked into moments you don’t expect like a birthday approaching, or a quiet morning when the world feels still.

Right now, grief feels like a low hum in the background of my life. Not overwhelming, but ever-present. It sneaks in when I least expect it and reminds me of what’s missing. And in those moments, it’s not something I want to fix or rush through. It just wants to be acknowledged.
So instead of pushing it away, I’m choosing to be intentional.

I’m surrounding myself with things that bring me joy. Soft moments, comforting routines, beauty in small doses. I’m spending time with people who want to see that joy exist and grow, not dim or shrink to accommodate my sadness. I’m learning that I don’t have to choose between grieving and living fully. Both can live here. Sadness and light are not enemies; they’re often holding hands.
There’s a quiet strength in allowing yourself to feel both at once. In giving yourself permission to miss someone deeply while still celebrating who you are becoming. In understanding that healing doesn’t mean forgetting—it means learning how to carry love forward in a new way.

Sharing this isn’t easy. Vulnerability never is. But I’ve always used my platform for more than polished moments and highlight reels. I’ve used it to tell the truth. To say the things people often keep to themselves. To create space for honesty, especially when it’s uncomfortable or messy.
So why am I sharing this now?

Because someone reading this might be feeling the same way—navigating a season of sadness they can’t quite explain, missing someone they love, or realizing that milestones can stir emotions they weren’t prepared for. And if that’s you, I want you to know you’re not alone. Even when it feels isolating. Even when it feels like everyone else is moving forward with ease.

I’m reminding myself of that same thing, too.

Grief doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you loved deeply. And choosing joy alongside it doesn’t dishonor that love, it honors it. Right now, I’m holding space for all of it. The tears. The memories. The laughter. The becoming.
​
And that, too, is part of the journey.