It’s not the achievements or the money. It’s the hands I held, the love I felt, and the grace I was given even when I didn’t deserve it.
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I used to care what people thought of my status. But now? I just want them to say I was kind, present, and someone who made others feel seen.
I was always busy, chasing things I thought were important. Now, with just months left, I wonder why I didn’t give more time to the ones who gave me everything.
Looking back, I thought success was the goal. But six months from the end, I see clearly—it was the small, quiet moments that made life worth living.
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I was scared—really scared. Overweight, exhausted, and ignoring the signs. This is the honest first step I took when my health became impossible to ignore.
After I turned 45, nothing worked like before. I was gaining weight just by looking at food. This is what I figured out when my body started slowing down.
I was 47, overweight, on meds, and thought it was too late to change. But I proved myself wrong. Here’s what I learned when I finally decided to try.
I wasn’t just tired. I was disconnected. Losing joy was my soul’s quiet way of asking, “Are you still in there?”
I thought it was too late for wonder. But then one day I laughed so hard I cried—and I knew joy was still inside me, waiting for an invitation.