Chill & Till Co.

Good morning to all you lovely souls. I hope your Monday has been kind to you so far. And if it hasn’t… well, take a deep breath — we’re still here, still growing. If you dread going to work because of someone or something in the workplace, please, for the love of your own peace, find a solution for that. Don’t spend your days being miserable in a place where you spend more time than your own home. And if a solution isn’t possible right now, and you just need a way to cope, I can at least offer you a small laugh: Why did the scarecrow get promoted? Because he was outstanding in his field.

If you need more than that, the comments are open. Vent, release, breathe. No judgment, no hatefulness — just a soft place to land, a little guidance if it finds you, and if not, then some mediocre advice from someone simply trying to forage their way through life.

I have days — especially back when I was working, dealing with my own little office storms — where I felt like I was walking around in someone else’s skin. Feeling feelings that didn’t even feel like mine. Emotions I never dealt with when I was going through my trauma… they just sat there, waiting for a safe place to finally rise to the surface. And as my therapist says, I have that safe place now. I have a home, a partner, a life where my nervous system finally feels steady enough to let the healing begin. Thanks to my loving, patient husband, I’m learning that those waves aren’t me ‘losing my mind’ — they’re me finally letting myself feel what I never had the space to feel before.

So here I am, allowing myself to heal in ways that feed my soul instead of extinguish it. Letting the old pain loosen its grip. Letting the new growth take root. Letting myself be human, messy, tender, and still somehow blooming.

Grounding Thought of the Day:  You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to breathe. You are allowed to exist exactly as you are in this moment — messy, healing, unsure, blooming. Not every feeling needs to be solved today. Some emotions just need to be witnessed, like clouds drifting across the sky or leaves rustling in the wind. Let the earth hold you for a minute. Let your shoulders drop. Let yourself be here, in this breath, without needing to be anywhere else.

Waking up today, hearing the birds sing, seeing my little seeds sprouting (and yes, once I get my garden and greenhouse set up, I’ll absolutely be making a whole page to share that journey with you), our dogs stretched out on the floor waiting for their morning walk, my husband FaceTiming me just to chat while he’s at work… it all makes me feel like every horrible trauma I’ve lived through, every wrong turn, every messy choice somehow landed me exactly where I’m supposed to be. It’s wild how life works like that — how the darkest chapters can still guide you toward the softest mornings.

We’re going to guide this floating leaf into a different direction for a moment. For a really long time, I had no idea who I was. No idea what I enjoyed. I was basically a shell of a person, drifting through life on autopilot. Slowly — and I mean slowly — I’ve started finding things that bring me genuine happiness: painting skulls, cooking, baking, gardening (I’m even working on my bachelor’s in horticulture, which still feels wild to say out loud). These little passions are helping me heal. Helping me find myself again, piece by piece.

My bestie, Amanda-Marie, and I even started a cook club called “The Shared Spoon Collection”. It’s literally just a group chat, but honestly? It’s one of the most fun things I’ve done in a long time. Every two weeks someone picks a recipe, and then we all make it, share our final creations, talk about how we made it our own, and give a little review. I’m so excited to see how it flourishes. Life gets busy, so sometimes you have to get creative to stay connected.

And that’s coming from someone who feels socially awkward most of the time. Conversation is not my strongest skill. My mind works about ten times faster than my mouth wants to, so everything gets jumbled and what comes out is definitely not what I intended. So I end up with a group of people thinking… who knows what. Meanwhile, my husband and my bestie are two of the biggest social butterflies on this planet. How I, of all people, managed to attract the extroverts of the century is beyond me. I’m the person who would be at a party in the corner, minding my own business and people‑watching. Funny how that worked out. Maybe it’s for the best though — they’ve both helped me tremendously in the ‘push me out of my comfort zone’ kind of way.

As I wrap up today’s little ramble through my brain‑garden, I’m realizing how wild this whole healing journey really is. One minute I’m having deep revelations about my inner child, and the next I’m standing in the kitchen trying to remember why I walked in there… only to realize I was holding the thing I was looking for the whole time. Healing is humbling like that. It keeps you grounded — sometimes by reminding you that your brain occasionally runs on ‘airplane mode.

But truly, I’m grateful. Grateful for the growth, the mess, the awkward conversations where my mouth gives up halfway through a sentence, and the people who love me anyway. Grateful for the tiny joys — sprouting seeds, warm mornings, dogs who think I’m the center of the universe, and a husband who somehow puts up with both me and my plant hoarding.

So here’s to another day of figuring it out as we go. May your evening be gentle, your mind be kind, and your soul find something small to smile about. I’ll see you tomorrow, floating leaf and all. 🌱

Okay, so apparently today is a two‑part kind of day. I’m sitting here making a list of all the things I need to do — lunch dates, meetings, errands, etc. — and I suddenly remembered something my therapist said. For privacy, we’ll call her Doctor Seuss. And honestly, if she ever reads this, I hope she laughs, because the woman has the same magical ability to take tangled thoughts and turn them into something that actually makes sense. She somehow makes the most chaotic feelings feel like they belong in a storybook. So yes, Doctor Seuss fits.

Anyway — back on track. Doctor Seuss recently asked me to write down what my perfect life would look like. No limits. No ‘be realistic.’ Just pure, unfiltered dreaming. And as I’m looking around at the chaotic beauty of my life right now… I think I might actually have it. I’m going to school to learn more about my passion. I have a beautiful little family. I’m working toward having my own business. I get to do something I love every single blessed day. I found my soulmate. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and the knowledge to grow and prepare that food. And look at me — I even started a blog.

Honestly, the only things I’d change are how I’ve been dealing with my trauma and my ability to communicate face‑to‑face in a way that feels natural. But even those things… I’m working on. I’m healing. I’m learning. And maybe that’s part of the perfect life too — not having it all figured out, but having the space and support to grow into the person I’m becoming.

As I sit here taking stock of my life — the chaos, the beauty, the healing, the growth — I’m reminded that sometimes the life we’re meant for doesn’t arrive all at once. It comes in tiny pieces, like seeds scattered by the wind. A moment of clarity here, a small joy there, a person who loves you in the exact way you didn’t know you needed. Healing isn’t a straight line; it’s a slow unfurling, like a leaf learning how to open again after a long winter.

There’s wisdom in realizing that perfection isn’t the goal — presence is. Being here, in this moment, with all its imperfections and blessings, is enough. You don’t have to have every wound healed or every word come out perfectly to be worthy of the life you’re building. You’re allowed to grow at your own pace. You’re allowed to rewrite the parts of yourself that were shaped by survival. You’re allowed to step into joy without apologizing for the darkness you came from.

So take a breath. Feel your feet on the ground. Look around at the life you’ve created — not the one you were told to want, but the one you’ve slowly, bravely built with your own hands and heart. Let that be your reminder that you are not behind, you are not broken, you are not lost. You are becoming. And becoming is sacred work.