I’m writing this on my patio at 7:47am, coffee in hand, birds going wild in the trees, the air already thick with the promise of a 94-degree day. The heat index is supposed to hit 108. It might be the full Strawberry Moon that’s had me up early, or it might just be that I’ve fallen in love with this hour — the one where the mist still covers the ground on my neighbor’s property and the whole world feels like it’s still deciding what kind of day it wants to be.
I’m officially halfway into my self-care sabbatical year. And I have a confession before I get into all the wonderful things: I never thought I could feel this light. This free. I especially never thought I’d feel this happy — and honestly, at times, that happiness comes with a flicker of guilt. But I’ve learned something important in these six months: grief and joy can coexist. They don’t cancel each other out. I’ve learned to let them co-exist, and I honor them both.
What I Actually Did
When I sat down to take stock of the last six months, I was surprised by how much had actually happened — because sabbatical time doesn’t always feel like productive time when you’re in it. But here’s the list, in my own handwriting, from my journal this morning:
I climbed actual mountains this year — not just metaphorical ones. I took my first solo trip to a retreat in Bimini. April brought a Mediterranean cruise with my dad, Courtney, and my sister Bonnie — more on that on my Instagram post if you missed it.
I built a website and started this blog. I’m taking care of my dad, Barry, regularly. I supported my daughter Courtney through a genuinely difficult professional and personal year. I carved out time to visit friends locally and out of state. I started Tai Chi lessons. I revamped my garden beds. I paid off a meaningful amount of debt. I visited several museums. I planned incredible adventures for the rest of the year. And I’m in the process of decluttering my home.
All of that, while I continue to grieve deeply for my precious family. I miss Lauren so much it hurts. Some days that pain is debilitating. But I’ve given myself permission to sit with it — to acknowledge and honor my feelings instead of rushing past them. And when I’m ready to step back into a fuller schedule, I do it knowing she’s rooting for me.
The Rhythms That Ground Me
If you’d told corporate-me, the one commuting to Cleveland and circling the parking garage for a spot, that my mornings would eventually look like this, I don’t think I would have believed you. Now my days start with listening to the birds and trying to identify them by sight and sound. Watering my flowers. Feeding the birds. Journaling. NYT puzzles. I say good morning to my mom, my brother Billy, and Lauren, and I usually light incense near their urns. I drink my collagen protein and electrolyte cocktail, take a probiotic, and snuggle the cats — Sophie and Fitzy — while I enjoy my coffee.
I rarely watch TV anymore. That’s been true since I got back from the retreat, and it’s become one of my favorite and most powerful new habits.
I’ve also completely changed my relationship with alcohol — something I didn’t expect to write about, but it feels important to name. I now have Sober Sundays. I drink far less than I have in the last twenty years, which genuinely surprises me, because I assumed I’d drink more without the structure of a career and the simultaneous weight of carrying grief. Instead, I’ve found I don’t need to numb myself the way I used to. A couple of glasses of wine in the evening, and then I’m done. I used to finish a whole bottle every night. I don’t miss waking up hungover, dehydrated, and anxious. I wake up excited for the chance to explore my curiosities and move my body. My new favorite habit is walking barefoot in the grass — I’d forgotten how wonderful that feels.
I go to bed when I’m tired. I get up when I’m well-rested. I move my body almost every day.
Do I miss the old life? Some parts of it, sure. I do miss solving complex problems, and I really do miss my colleagues. But I see most of my favorite people regularly now. My to-do lists look completely different these days — in the best possible way.
Bimini Changed Something in Me
I have to talk about the Ancient Souls retreat in Bimini, because it cracked something open that I didn’t know was closed. I was pulled into an ethereal world I didn’t know existed. I came home understanding that I’m on an important mission here on Earth School, and that my time has to be used to its fullest potential. I’m honoring my highest self, and the highest self of everyone around me.
I love immersing myself in ancient wisdom, and surrounding myself with souls on a high frequency, like me. That retreat was so powerful — it awoke something deep inside of me. I was surrounded by love and understanding from a group of strangers who taught me more than they probably realized. I honor that place in my soul that remembers who I am.
Mostly, I’m learning to stay locked in the present. I appreciate where I am and who I am. I’m grateful for my life, my family, my friends, and Mother Earth. I cherish this journey. I’ve created some genuinely healthy habits these last six months, and I go into this next stretch believing — not hoping, believing — that I can do hard things. This year has proven it.
What’s Ahead
I have a lot on the horizon, and writing it down makes it feel real. I want to keep going through Lauren’s writings and see about publishing some of her stories and poetry — that one takes real emotional heavy lifting, and I’m not quite there yet, but I feel myself getting closer. In September, we’ll hold the most beautiful celebration of life for Lauren — because honoring her isn’t a one-time thing. It’s ongoing, woven into everything I’m building here.
In a few weeks I’m heading to Nashville to visit family. Right after that, I’m off to London and Paris with Courtney — and wow, I’m excited.
Beyond that: I’m attending Laura Lynn Jackson’s workshop at Omega Institute in September; her books (The Light Between Us, Signs, and Guided) speak to me, and I feel like I was meant to meet her. And the road trip to New York with my friend Sue is going to be a fun part of that whole experience. I’m going to officiate my friend Jen and Chris’s wedding in October in Indian Rocks Beach. I’m going to spend a whole week there enjoying the sun, ocean, and friends — genuinely the best medicine there is. And for the holidays, I’m going to Belize with the family in December. It’s too painful to be home with all the memories of Christmas pasts. Being somewhere new for the holidays feels gentler.
I want to keep exploring every curiosity that pulls at me. Practice a more Ayurvedic lifestyle. Get more proficient at Tai Chi. Grow this little corner of the internet and my social following. And put real steps in place toward becoming a consultant in 2027.
Six months down. Six to go. I have no idea what the second half of this sabbatical will bring, but if the first half is any indication — it’s going to ask a lot of me, and I’m going to rise to meet it, one grounded, imperfect, grateful morning at a time.
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