Marked by Miles

Many Hands, New Beginnings

As a good friend once said, many hands make easy work.

With my family of ten people, we loaded the U-Haul in about 45 minutes. Everyone stepped in and worked together quickly and efficiently. What could have felt overwhelming was actually very simple when shared.

I also overestimated how much I had. We finished early and still had extra space in the truck. That felt quietly reassuring — a reminder that this move isn’t about taking everything with me, but about making space for what’s next.

There were goodbyes, of course. Not dramatic ones — just the natural kind that come with change. The kind that acknowledge a chapter closing and another beginning.

This move is more than a change of location. It’s a change in how I’m living and working.

I’m 41, which means I’m not slowing down — I’m building. I’ll be continuing to grow Trident in Florida, and I’ll also be building a healing business through MMS Orlando. This move gives me the space and environment to do that in a way that feels sustainable and aligned.

For a long time, much of my life has been about responsibility — raising my daughter, building my businesses, supporting clients, and being there for family and community. That still matters deeply to me. But now there’s also room for expansion, creativity, and choosing more intentionally what I want this next phase of life to look like.

Charlie and I leave tomorrow.

We’re heading toward warmth, ocean air, and a place that supports the next chapter of our lives — not as an escape, but as a natural next step.

This blog is a place for me to share that process with you — the changes, the growth, and what life looks like as it unfolds.

If you’re here reading this, thank you for being part of my life and this journey 🤍

A House in Transition

There’s something incredibly tender about watching a home change hands.

Today the upstairs is being painted.

My things are packed into a U-Haul.

And my daughter — with her cousin beside her — is brushing color onto the walls that used to hold my life.

It’s no longer my space.

It’s becoming her sanctuary.

Twelve years ago, this house was a dream my dad helped me make real. He walked beside me through the process of buying it — encouraging me, supporting me, helping me believe it was possible. My mom and my stepdad poured their time, energy, and love into this place too. We all did. This house was built not just with money and labor, but with care, family, and intention.

And now that same house is becoming the place where my daughter gets to grow into herself as a young adult.

That fills me with a deep, quiet joy.

What used to be my bedroom, my quiet place, my thinking place… is being transformed into a retreat for a young woman who is stepping into her own chapter. And instead of feeling sad about it, I feel peaceful. Like the house itself is exhaling and saying, yes — this is right.

This season is full of endings and beginnings layered on top of each other.

I’m moving into something new.

She’s rooting into something new.

And the house is the bridge between us.

Watching her paint the walls feels symbolic — like she’s not just changing a room, she’s claiming her place in the world. Making space for who she’s becoming, while I make space for who I’m becoming next.

There’s gratitude in this. And tenderness. And a lot of love folded into the middle of it all.

Homes aren’t just structures — they’re containers for phases of life.

And this one is being lovingly passed from one generation to the next, brushstroke by brushstroke. ❤️

Christmas, In Between

It’s my first Christmas without my dad.

To be honest — it still sucks. I miss him so much.

There’s no poetic way to wrap that up. There’s just the quiet ache of him not being here, and the moments where you instinctively think you’ll see his name light up your phone or hear his voice in your head… and then you remember.

And still — this Christmas felt like standing in between worlds.

Between what was.

Between what’s ending.

Between what’s beginning.

As tradition, my daughter and I worked out together Christmas morning. Same ritual. Same sweat. Same smiles. We took our usual gym photos — not because we “have to,” but because it’s one of the ways we mark time together. One of the ways we say: we’re still here, we’re still moving, we’re still choosing strength.

After that, we had Christmas lunch with my mom and stepdad at my house.

Simple. Quiet. Full of warmth.

Then it was time.

Finished loading the U-Haul.

Packed up my car.

Did one last slow walk through the house to make sure I had everything.

That walk hits different when you know it’s the last time.

But it also holds a strange kind of beauty — a moment to honor what was, before stepping into what’s next.

Every room holds echoes. Every corner carries a version of you that lived there once. So I walked slowly. I breathed it in. I said thank you to the walls, to the years, to the growth, to the pain, to the healing.

There were a lot of hugs.

A few tears.

And a lot of “see you in a month in Florida” — because they’re all coming to visit in February.

So we’re not doing goodbyes.

Just gentle see-you-soons.

Florida is waiting. A new chapter is opening. Sunshine, ocean air, fresh routines, new rhythms. I don’t know exactly what it will look like yet — but I know it will be good. I know it will be alive. And I know I’m ready.

I’m bringing my dad with me — in my heart, in my strength, in the parts of me he helped shape. I’m bringing this family with me. I’m bringing every version of myself that got me here.

Today wasn’t joyful in the traditional sense.

But it was meaningful.

And it was loving.

And it was full.

And that counts

Make Room for Growth

Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.

The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.

You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.