I feel that I am in the midst of a significant transformation, a messy yet beautiful process. The roles I’ve long embodied—caretaker, over-functioner, people-pleaser, wife, mother, creative support, the quiet strategizer behind the curtain—no longer fits. I can feel it in my bones. Something inside me is shifting. My internal compass is pointing in a new direction, but the map hasn’t fully taken shape. And while that feels unnerving, it also feels powerful.

For so many years, I positioned myself around others. Their dreams. Their needs. Their comfort. Now, I’m ready—finally—to position myself for myself. Not out of guilt. Not out of duty. Not because I should. But because I desire to.

Here’s what I’m learning:

I don’t need to see the whole path to take the next step. I can start by creating space, setting boundaries, and saying no to what no longer feeds me, even if it disappoints someone else.

Writing isn’t just something I do—it’s how I navigate. The stories I’ve written, mine and others’ are guiding lights. They speak of liberation, reclamation, and a return to authenticity. I’m going back to those words, reading them not just as a writer, but as someone hungry for direction.

I’m not stuck. I’m paused. There’s a difference. Stuck is helpless. Paused is potent. This is a gestation, not a dead end. Something new is forming.  I’ve carried so much for so long. I’ve built scaffolding around other people’s lives. But now, I want to create something of my own—something that fills me rather than depletes me. I don’t owe my next chapter to anyone else’s vision. My voice—the one I’ve used to uplift, tell, write, and mother—is asking to be heard by me now. I don’t need all the answers. I need to listen.

This is the season of my Sovereign Self. And she is just getting started.