The Richest Girl in The World

This pause is sacred; it holds everything I once believed I had to earn.

Reflecting on this year, I find myself smiling at my present moment. It has been a hard year. Truly, the last ten have been grueling. And yet, right now, I feel deeply grateful.

After a lifetime of hyper-vigilance, it feels almost strange to notice that my default is slowly, gently shifting toward rest, joy, and peace. This journey began the moment I was conceived, but it came into conscious focus after the birth of my second child, my wonderful boy Jace; when being the “perfect” mom was no longer possible. That season brought immense grief and heartache. The pressure was relentless. In a reality that felt completely out of control, my need to hold everything together only tightened its grip… and I came undone.

Amid all that chaos, I made a choice to turn my world upside down; to heal, to question everything I thought I knew, to vigorously rebuild the foundation of my life, and do whatever it took to feel whole. What I learned is that trying to overhaul myself was never the answer. Instead, it was offering presence and acceptance to my wounds, my pain, and my fragmented parts that began making me whole. This wild and beautiful grace brought me to the peace I feel now, to this deep, steady breath.

In this pause, I’m profoundly thankful. Thankful for the genuine smile on my lips, the ease in my nervous system, my ability to notice beauty and detail around me. I can feel my body soaking in calm and rest. I see myself reflected in curiosity, creativity, wisdom, and empathy. Being spontaneous, laughing or goofing around without shame or self-doubt, feels like uncovering a hidden treasure. Receiving my husband’s playful gestures and meeting them with my own sense of safety in play feels like being crowned with beauty and dignity. Letting my kids simply be, without fear, almost feels unreal. All of this is still a work in progress, but what once felt untouchable to me (the simple embodiment of just being) feels present now, alive in my heart.

In this pause, I also feel protective. I don’t want to rush ahead or fall behind. I want to be with this moment and own it, without over-defining it. What speaks to me is the contrast to years when every pause meant reinvention; another push, another climb, another attempt to build, prove, or strive. There’s nothing in my system that longs for that anymore. It feels now that all the striving was in service of finding this softness, this presence where I can simply be. I just didn’t know what it looked like, or how to arrive here.

And it turns out this is the most meaningful version of success I can imagine.

I feel like the richest girl in the world.