This is Not Survivor, You Weren’t Meant to Just Survive.

Suffering in Silence… Is it a badge of honor or it is survivors remorse? Maybe it’s just become normal in today’s culture.

I learned so much last year about how suffering in silence never brings you closer to your destination, only further away from who you used to be and those that can help uplift you.

I am here to tell you that life can be isolating, , but you don’t have to isolate yourself even more because you think you can and should do everything on your own.

I am a woman who always wants to do it herself, who wants to figure out how I can help other people, but never how anyone can help me or lighten my load.

I wore survivorship as a badge of honor, actually I lied. I AM WEARING IT like a badge of honor. I didn’t think it was meant for me to have help or thrive at all.

I thought surviving was the only choice that I had, especially  as a woman of color. But that does not have to be your story. You don’t have to wake up every day with your sympathetic nervous system on full alert (aka fight-or-flight mode). That is not normal; that is survival. Not even survival of the fittest because you’re weakening your body day by day, moment by moment. And if we want to lean into the evolutionary principle of survival of the fittest for a moment: you are not passing on the best traits to your progeny by merely surviving. You are not creating enough joy. You are not finding outlets for self-care and happiness. You are self-preserving yourself in a moment in time that has become the mantra for your life.

I am here to tell you to shake off the permafrost and thaw yourself out—because you don’t have to be stuck in the ice age of your life, where everything was cold, barren, and miserable.

That time is devoid of life, but you are not.

You are living each day, full of warmth and reason to be more than just the moments that make you want to crawl into your tomb of isolation and sit there just to survive.

Maybe you don’t have a support system that can hold you up and help you thrive.

Maybe you don’t want to thrive.

Maybe I am delusional to think it does not have to be this way, but I truly don’t believe it should or will always be this way.

But maybe, just maybe, if we start each day by growing outside our own weeds, we can fully see the life blooming in the field of roses around us. And maybe the rose you never expected will lend you its roots, and you will both grow and thrive.

But it starts first with reaching out and asking for a little water and sunshine.

You do not have to persist alone.
It was not meant to be this hard.

With Love,

Amber

Maybe this year sucked, but I survived

Maybe your year was like mine, full of doubt, surprises, and uncertainty.

Maybe you lost sight of who you used to be while chasing a version of yourself who now lives in the shadows of your life, and that’s totally okay. Maybe we all thought life owed us more than we bargained for, and we finally met our match. Maybe we prayed big prayers and sat in the middle of our season of change and growth.

Nevertheless, even if this year sucked — yes, I said it, sucked — at least we: kept our kids alive, kept our priorities somewhat straight, and most of all… we survived.

This year raked me over the coals. I won battles in silence that made me question who I was and where I was going. This year was lonely — not because I wasn’t surrounded by love, but because I had to fight my own battles and conquer my own demons. No one talks about the strength it takes to mother in the midst of your trials. No one talks about the days you look in the mirror and see a stranger but still find a way to smile and love yourself one more time so your child doesn’t see the broken pieces of you being held together with tape.

Life has a way of humbling us when it hurts the most. It reminds us that the person we thought we were was just a fraction of who we’re becoming. We are so much greater than we ever imagined, if we’re willing to look within.

This year forced me to dissect the parts of myself that were yearning for more, parts that needed more than I was giving them. I was disillusioned by my own reality, wandering through a twilight zone, hoping I’d recognize my old self along the way. But the truth is… I’m not supposed to find my old self on this journey. I’m meant to honor who she was, thank her for how she carried me, and gently release her so I can welcome the woman I am becoming — the woman I was meant to be all along.

No matter how hard this year was for you, don’t forget: you made it through. January 1st is a beautiful invitation to reset, but so is every single day.

And don’t forget to thank this year, even if it sucked because sometimes loss makes room for us to finally recognize our wins. May this upcoming year and beyond bring many blessings your way.

Blessings and safety for an incredible year ahead.

With love always,

Happy New Year & New You,

Amber

Tis’ the season…

Now is the season in your life where you shouldn’t be afraid to create joy, celebrate new beginnings, and adjust your internal compass.

Everything in this season may not make sense but you are here, and you are worthy of being here, worthy of feeling joyful. Every day won’t be a day where you jump for joy or feel overwhelmingly happy, and that is okay. Give yourself permission to experience the full range of emotions that come with pursuing joy.

According to licensed therapist Katherine Atherton:

“Joy is a deeper emotion than happiness that comes from within — from a sense of purpose and meaning, including finding meaning in suffering — and from relationships with others. It therefore lasts longer than its counterpart. It’s also relatively independent from happiness.”

Joy isn’t dependent on feeling happy every single day or being fully satisfied with your circumstances. It is a deeper understanding of the cathartic experience that is life. Motherhood and womanhood often make us feel these emotional shifts with greater intensity. We rarely find the full meaning of joy, not because it doesn’t exist within us, but because we don’t slow down long enough to look deeply for it.

So as you move through this season, ask yourself:

Where can you find the most joy right now?

Is it in your career? Your relationships? Motherhood? Community? Spiritual connection? In tangible things?

Wherever you plant your joyful roots, may they be planted in sturdy soil, not sinking sand. May they endure the trials that inevitably come. May your joy be undeniable, lasting, and filled with something richer than the here and now.

May you feel how worthy you are of divine peace.

May you feel how worthy you are of joy beyond where you currently stand.

May joy be your compass, not just this season, but in every season to come.

With love and joy,

Amber

Gratitude is not always being grateful for everything

As Thanksgiving nears, I find myself reflecting on everything I am truly grateful for, and realizing that gratitude rarely stands alone. Often, beneath the surface of what we cherish most lies a history of sacrifice, loss, or pain. Gratitude and sacrifice are more intertwined than we like to admit.

I am profoundly grateful for my family and their health, something so many people can no longer say in today’s world. That gratefulness is real. It is grounding. It is precious. But I also know that behind it sits a mountain of sacrifice. As a mom, I give of myself every single day, my time, my energy, my resources, my body, my mental health. Motherhood is a privilege, yes. But privilege doesn’t erase pain.

For me, becoming a mother wasn’t wrapped in joy from the start. My birth story was traumatic. My early postpartum days were marked by shadows, by a grief that felt out of place in a season that was “supposed” to be full of bliss. And even now, as I sit in my joy—real, earned, abundant joy—I still carry the echoes of the anguish that once swallowed me whole.

People love to remind you, “Well, at least you’re a mom. At least you have a good life.” And while that may be true, it’s also incomplete. I’m learning that two things can coexist within one reality: joy and pain, gratitude and resentment, peace and anxiety. We do ourselves a disservice when we try to force one emotion out to make room for another. Life doesn’t work like that. Motherhood certainly doesn’t.

Sometimes, motherhood feels like both a blessing and a burden. And honestly? That’s okay. Don’t @ me because I admit feeling ungrateful at times. I’m human. Maybe if more of us allowed ourselves to acknowledge the difficult parts—the sadness, the uncertainty, the exhaustion—we’d stop treating gratitude like a mask we’re required to put on. Maybe we’d actually experience gratitude in its fullest, truest form: not as a performance, but as a soft place we return to once we’ve been honest about what hurts.

So this Thanksgiving, I’m choosing to honor the coexistence. The joy and the ache. The gratitude and the grief. The parts of motherhood that fill me, and the parts that emptied me before I even knew how to ask for help.

Because maybe gratitude isn’t about pretending. Maybe it’s about finally allowing ourselves to feel everything.

"We don’t have to pretend to be fine when we are not. We don’t need to push through and be strong. Gratitude is a soft landing place that requires us to be honest, open, and willing to look at everything we’re facing and not turn away."

–Alex Elle

With love <3 and gratitude,

Amber