“Where Grief Once Lived, Peace Now Breathes”

“From Numbness to Light: My Holiday Awakening”

This holiday season feels different for me—so different that I can feel gratitude rising in my chest the moment I open my eyes every day. For the first time in my life, I’m not dreading the holidays. I’m not bracing myself for the coldness, the performance, or the emotional heaviness that used to follow me into this time of year.

This year… I am looking forward to them with a heart wide open.

I feel genuinely excited to share space, food, warmth, and energy with the people who have become my support system—who have held me, supported me, and never asked me to shrink to be loved. That alone brings tears to my eyes. Joy feels new and unfamiliar all at once, like a homecoming to a version of myself I never dreamed I could become.

The last few years broke me in ways I thought I’d never recover from. Grief hit me harder than I could ever explain. Depression wrapped around me like a fog, and there were days I felt completely numb—suspended between survival and surrender. My PTSD had me paralyzed, suffocated by my own breath, unable to even feel the world around me. It was a darkness that felt endless.

But here I am.

Walking in grace.

Stepping into light.

Breathing again.

Here I am now… standing in the light of everything I prayed for and more......

I’m walking in grace. I’m stepping into peace. I’m breathing again—fully, deeply, freely.

It feels like a veil has lifted from my spirit. I can finally see the abundance around me—the love, the softness, the support, the provision, the second chances, the quiet miracles I once thought were meant for other people but not for me.

My days aren’t perfect. The flashbacks haven’t magically disappeared. The emotions are still heavy. Loneliness still creeps in. But something in me has changed: I navigate them with compassion now. I meet myself with gentleness. I remind myself that I am safe, supported, and grounded. I am no longer abandoning myself—not emotionally, not spiritually, not mentally or physically.

For someone who knows abandonment as deeply as I do, this shift feels sacred. It feels like rebirth. This is a reclamation. I am my own advocate. I hold space for my needs, my heart, my healing, and my boundaries. I stay with myself, even in the moments when my past tries to convince me I’m alone.

I’m not.

And I never will be.

It feels like I have become the woman I always needed. The woman who stays. The woman who listens. The woman who honors her own heart.

I look at who I am today… and sometimes I hardly recognize myself. I am softer, yet stronger. More loving, but more boundaries. More compassionate, but no longer self-sacrificing. I am grounded in faith. I move with intention. I live with so much gratitude it often makes me emotional.

I am genuinely proud of the woman I’ve grown into. I am grateful for her. And I am finally at peace with her.

I am profoundly grateful to be alive—to be here, present, grounded, and walking in this much light. There was a time when hope felt like it was slipping through my fingers, when I didn’t know if I would ever feel joy again. But faith, community and the God within kept me going.

So today, I sit in this gratitude.

In this peace.

In this new Era I prayed for.

My heart is emotional, open, and thankful beyond words. This is the first holiday season where I am not surviving—I am living. I am receiving. I am allowing myself to feel joy without fear.

And that, to me, is the greatest gift I can give myself and my daughter.

I cherish and grieve the life I once felt too numb to experience. I cherish every breath, every sunrise, every moment of stillness I used to rush past. There was a time when hope was slipping through my fingers, and I wondered if joy would ever return to me—but faith held me.

So today, I sit in this gratitude with my whole heart. I sit in this peace I fought so hard to reach. I sit in this gentle, beautiful softness that feels like a blessing.

And as I sit with all of this—my healing, my light, my resilience—I cannot end without acknowledging God and the people who helped me get here. I am profoundly grateful for my community and support system, the ones who showed up for me when I couldn’t show up for myself. The ones who loved me through the darkness, the grief, the numbness, the fear, and every chapter I was scared to turn.

Their love was the grounding I didn’t know I needed. Their presence was the shelter my soul craved. Their compassion was the reminder that I was never as alone as my pain tried to convince me.

I carry so much gratitude for every person who stood beside me, prayed for me, held space for me, and offered me gentleness when I barely recognized who I was becoming. Their love helped me rise. Their support helped me breathe again.

And for that, I am forever grateful.

Now excuse me while I go tear up the kitchen and cook with my serving hands and mix all the ingredients up with love and grace!!

Own Your Light,

Soldier Mom