BECOMING AGAIN.

You know… sometimes I feel like running away from “beautiful.”Not because it has hurt me, though it has, in ways I still cannot name, but because beauty feels too fragile in my hands, too soft for a world that has never learned to handle softness with care. Yet somehow, I linger…thinking perhaps beautiful deserves another chance, even when my heart whispers that it does not, even when my spirit trembles at the memory of all the times I dared to trust too soon, too deeply, too honestly.

The world, Lord, is not always kind to a soul doing its best to simply breathe. To wake up. To stand. To keep moving even when everything inside wants to collapse. There are days I wish for things so fiercely that the wishing itself feels like a wound, and still, I remind myself to be careful, because wishes arrive in disguises: some as blessings, some as curses, and sometimes they look like both in the same breath. And truly, how can one ever know? Life is a whisper, a riddle, a lesson wrapped in mystery. Here this, here that… and still, my heart insists on walking its own stubborn path.

I miss dancing. Not just the act of moving, but the feeling of my spirit rising above my worries, above the noise, above the heaviness that sits quietly on my shoulders. I miss dancing my sorrows away, letting each step peel away sadness, letting each spin scatter the tears hiding behind my smile. There was a freedom there once, a freedom I crave, a freedom I am slowly reclaiming.

What have I learned this year? Oh, this year has been a teacher, a harsh one, yes, but also a patient one. I have learned to survive, not by choice, but by necessity. I have learned to stand alone, to mother three little souls with a strength I did not know lived inside me. Strength stitched into my spine, woven into my bones, anchored into the deepest parts of my being.

I have learned to let go of things that refuse to bend toward my hoping. I have learned that nothing, not love, not stability, not certainty, is truly permanent. And yet…the impermanence has taught me to cherish more gently, to hold lightly, to release when releasing is the only way to breathe again.

I have learned that love is a frightening creature, wild, unpredictable, beautifully dangerous. It teaches, it wounds, it heals, and still… no one truly understands it. Not fully. Not ever.

I have learned to sleep in my own bed, to fill its emptiness with peace rather than longing, with rest rather than fear, with dreams rather than memories. I have learned to love myself, step by trembling step, even on days the mirror feels unfamiliar.

I have learned to put myself first, then my children, because a pouring heart must be full before it can give. Because love that drains you is not love worth keeping.

I have learned to move on. To soldier on. To forge ahead even when the road beneath me cracks, even when the silence feels too loud, even when my strength feels borrowed. I have learned to smile again, a real smile, one that reaches my eyes, one that isn’t held together by hope alone.

I have learned to welcome new people into my life, to allow joy to find me in unexpected places, to let laughter sit with me again after months of emptiness.

And my children…my heartbeats in three bodies, I have learned they are each a universe: different, beautiful, wild, tender, each needing a different version of me, each teaching me different lessons about love, patience, and grace.

Gosh, if you could see me now, dancing as I write this, my feet remembering the language of joy, my spirit unfolding like a flower touched by morning light. I am smiling, a smile born from both bitter tears and joyful ones. A smile that knows sorrow, yet still chooses hope.

This year, I begin again. Anew. Stronger. Softer. Braver. Wiser. And yes, with tears, but tears that cleanse, tears that bless, tears that water the soil where the new woman in me is slowly growing.

I am becoming, not the person I once was, but someone more whole, more awake, more alive.

And perhaps…just perhaps…this time, “beautiful” will not run away from me, and I will not run from it either.