If there is one thing I have learned this year, it is that the end of everything, is the beginning to anything. When it rains, it really does pour. You can either complain about being underdressed and unprepared, or you can sing and dance in it. Obviously, I choose the latter.
Sometimes it’s easier said than done though, and this year in particular was a doozy. I spent the first half of the year completely ungrounded, trying to hold my head above water and not drown in my deep grief from my relationship ending, my job ending, and putting everything I own into a 10×10 storage unit. All of which were unplanned, but in hindsight was foreseeable. In the aftermath of it all, I was trying to grasp onto any sense of self I had left and tried my best not to become cynical and jaded. It’s a lot to deal with those kinds of changes one at a time, but for all of it to happen within six months…at one point, I actually just started laughing at myself. I don’t know if it was some kind of unconscious self-preservation, or if it was when I completely surrendered to the universe.
But for every major shift (most people would call a setback), I was greeted with the wildest opportunities I could only dream of. I learned to surrender some hopes and dreams, and leaned into the space of rebuilding new ones. I had hoped I would be able to update this blog with everything by now, but it’s been so much to process, combined with the fact my energy levels just weren’t there this year, it’s a miracle I am even getting around to writing this at all.
The year started with deep grieving, questioning myself, vulnerability, and anger. My depression hit an all time low, and there were many days I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it. It all felt hopeless and pointless. There were days where all I wanted to do was crawl into a deep dark hole, curl up in silence, and never come back out again. I have worked through a lot of it, but at this point, I don’t think it would be realistic to say it’s 100% gone. Egos have a way of holding on, and at first I would be upset with myself for still holding onto any resentment (knowing that the only person I’m hurting is me in the process), but I’ve learned to befriend my anger. To listen to it and know that it too has a place and purpose in my life. You can call it trauma or you can call it a built in alarm system. You can’t control what people do, but you can control how you react. It’s been a tightrope walk being able to express and release my grief and anger, but I can thankfully say I have been able to find some peace. If you are looking for ways to express some anger, I highly recommend power sanding an old boat, hammering nails into a wall, screaming into the night sky, and this amazing playlist Jasper made for me.
It was a year of unraveling dreams and shedding of identity, but it’s also been a year of deep love, standing in my power, humbling generosity, and for as fleeting as the moments have been, a bit of light. When you’re operating in survival mode, savoring those moments of peace is everything. I’ve learned to sit with the fact that two opposite feelings can be true at the same time, and that there is no wrong or right way to grieve.
I can’t say enough for the people who have really held me together this year. In each and every way, every moment mattered. From drive by wellness checks, virtual hugs, holding my hand and shining a light for me down the tunnel. I am so humbled by the outpour of support from people this year. I could have survived because I know I am strong, but because of you, I didn’t have to do it alone.
I used to be one of those hyper-independent women that never accepted help (ok, I still constantly fight that side, but I swear I am much better!). I’ve been on my own for most of my life and I hardly ever noticed the mountains I was carrying, let alone seeing how the weight of it was slowly crushing me. Through my last relationship I learned how to soften, to be unconditional, share my weight, trust and lean into a partnership. Unfortunately, once I found that nice safety spot, I found myself completely codependent. Even when it all started burning up in flames. You couldn’t convince me to step away from a dumpster fire, I would die within it before that happened. And died I did.
When I found myself alone again, I had never felt so lost. I remember being the happiest, most fulfilled, most confident version of myself just before I decided to start a new relationship. Where was that woman now? I honestly couldn’t remember what that felt like anymore. I felt like that part of myself completely evaporated into thin air. I didn’t know how or if it was possible to find her again. I knew though, that the only way I was going to survive this was to find that part of myself again.
That’s the funny thing though, you think you need to “find yourself” again, as if that part of you exists outside of your body and needs to be found, but the reality is that part of you was never lost and never left you. It just got buried deep within yourself. You just have to do the work to peel off the layers of self-doubt and you have to face the ugly truths about yourself. For me, I forfeited my boundaries in the name of unconditional love under the belief that I was “too much” or had “too high of expectations”. I was so disappointed with myself when I realized I was equating the bare minimum of respect as “too much” or expecting someone to have integrity within themselves as “too high of expectations”. But I came to know and understand why I did what I did, and instead of shaming myself, I reached out with understanding. And that’s when I could learn to love myself, even when I was mad at myself.
I had clear moments of sacrificing my boundaries in the name of love, but the ugly truth of it all that was I was just holding on selfishly because I didn’t think I could survive a breakup after just disappointingly ending my dream boat project. I wanted to hold on to the one person I thought was my rock. My big heart and fractured ego held on for dear life until we didn’t have the choice to anymore.
In order to rebuild a home within myself, I needed to be willing to let go of everything I believed in, every hope and dream of my future. This is not to be confused with giving up, but to just set aside, and be open to the many new possibilities that I hadn’t yet dreamed of. You need the gift of space, a blank canvas, to recreate yourself and your possibilities.
Reground – Reach for Your Roots
When you’re rebuilding, start with your roots. I have dreamed of going to Vietnam with my mom to visit her family farm for many years. So when my mom called me and asked me if I wanted to go to Vietnam with her and my grandma this year, I was ecstatic. The only catch was…they were leaving in three weeks. My work has been flexible in the past, but I didn’t think they would be THAT flexible, especially coming off our biggest project of the year.
Maybe I manifested a little too hard, but a week later the universe decided it would be best if my company and I parted ways. Without work, my dear friend Miles gifted me his airline miles (THANK YOU MILES!) to get me a ticket to join my family on a trip of a lifetime. An expedited passport renewal and very last minute visa later (I received my e-visa 25 minutes before I was leaving for the airport), I found myself on my way to meet my family in Taiwan for a connecting flight to Ho Chi Minh.
The trip was as dreamy as it sounded. I wish I could dive into great detail about all of it for you here, but to do it justice, you’ll have to wait for my future writings. I had no expectations going into this trip, all I knew was that I wanted to make memories with my mom and grandma and soak everything in. Little did I know that this trip would be the start of taking care of my roots.
I got to visit the pineapple and coconut farm my great grandmother built with her own two hands, see my mom in a whole new light, and “meet” my grandpa for the very first time. I will also never forget that at the ripe age of 37, I learned pineapples grew on bushes, not trees!
I don’t know how to describe the feeling of seeing a place you have only imagined for over 30 years. For those who don’t already know, my mom grew up during the Vietnam war. So her childhood was vastly different than mine. I climbed my backyard plum trees to read Garfield and the American Girl books. She climbed coconut trees because she was a working farm girl. While I laid in the middle of my suburban street bored out of my mind, my mom literally dove into the trenches, trying to avoid being collateral damage as bullets cracked the coconut trees around her. My dad was alive and healthy, while she had to not only bury her dad, she had to go with her siblings to claim his body, after the bus he was riding was bombed by the Viet Cong. The excruciating details she still remembers is enough to break anyone’s heart. These were just a fraction of the war stories I would hear from my mom growing up. A constant reminder of how I should be grateful, and a great validation of how much she survived and how far she has come.
It turns out, post war and many decades later, the family farm looks like a very lovely, peaceful place to be. I got to go for a little boat ride with my mom, and I got to see her stand tall and strong, take charge and paddle our way down the coconut/pineapple groves. I’d never seen her be so naturally confident, it was the highlight of my whole trip. Who knew one day my mom would drive me around in a boat? You could see how it all felt so natural to her.
I never realized it until then, that water and boats have been in my blood my whole life, even if I didn’t grow up with it. This whole time I have held onto this belief that I was never good enough compared to those who had grandpas that would row or sail them around growing up. But it turns out, being on the water has always been natural for me because it’s been a lived existence for my ancestors who came before me. Watching her prepare a coconut or pineapple so effortlessly shows how the muscle memory still lives within her despite not having been there since her early teenage years.
On a very special holiday, Qingming, which is when families visit the graves of their ancestors and pay tribute (lots of food, burning incense and gifts to “send” to the other side), I got to visit my grandfather’s grave for the first time. I should also clarify, while both my parents were born and grew up in Vietnam, they are actually Chinese by heritage (I’m only 1/4 Vietnamese by blood). So I grew up with both cultures. It’s funny to think that my mom is as much Vietnamese as I am American.
I never got to meet most of my grandparents. Most passed away before I was born, and I’ve only had my one grandma. Back home, I grew up praying with incense every year at the family alter, going through the motions of what we were supposed to say, but it never really felt real for me. When we went to my grandfather’s grave, and I knelt before it, holding incense to my forehead, a wave of love washed over me. Maybe it was the humidity, the 90 degree heat and the wafting second hand smoke of a cemetery full of incense, but I felt like I was able to say hi for the very first time. I think I healed the inner child within me that always craved that kind of unconditional, wise, grandpa energy that day. Or I should say he helped me too.
Spending a month in Vietnam with my family helped me get in touch with my roots in such an unexpected way. To know where you come from, to see it with your own eyes, allows you to know deep down inside, there are generations of incredibly strong women within you, and because they got through worser circumstances, so can you.
It was so much to process I took a week by myself in Sapa, scootering the hillsides, dancing and crying away in a treehouse before heading home to the PNW.
If you are ready for a one hour family vacation video you can watch this compilation I made for my mom! At some point I’ll make something with translations to share but here it is for now.
Open Seas
When Shauna and Al asked me to help them deliver their boat Dogbark from Sitka to Nome, Alaska this summer, I knew I would do anything in my power to make sure that stayed a possibility. That meant I couldn’t commit to a stable full time job that I am used to, I just had to wing it until then. Luckily for me I had a few friends to give me odd jobs that helped me make the transition possible. I also wanted to make myself as available as possible should the opportunity come up that I could stay on for the second part of their journey: The Northwest Passage.
Never did I ever even conceive of the idea of doing The Northwest Passage in my life, let alone this year. It felt like never never land, or something you only read about in historical books. It’s not something many sailors have been able to complete on private vessels until recent years.
Long story short, I was given the best birthday present in the world: a spot on the boat for the remainder of the journey. Which means, I ended up sailing 7,000nm from Sitka, Alaska to Saint Johns, Newfoundland. There is no way I can encapsulate the magic and wonder of sailing through the Arctic in a short format, but I tried my best as the official scribe for Dogbark. If you haven’t yet, you can read all about our journey on the Dogbark Blog.
It was the most magical journey. Saltwater therapy is the best kind of therapy. I woke up everyday with a smile on my face and I’d pop my head into the cockpit and declared that each day was better than the one before and I didn’t know how my heart was still inside my chest. It felt like the joy inside could launch an entire air balloon into space. Out on the water, I found a sense of peace I didn’t know would actually come. I found a way to rebuild a home within myself and I found wonder and joy beyond my imagination.
I thought I would feel enlightened in some way, but the prevailing feeling I found was peace. I thought I would emerged transformed, and in some ways I did, but mostly, my journey was about finding the path back to myself.
The path I’ve walked with my own two feet, offered up by previous generations of self sacrifice and courage. I was absolutely aware the privilege it has been to dream big and live those dreams because of the generations before me. While my mom risked her life and fled Vietnam at the age of 16, in a 54 ft boat with 250 other refugees, only to lose their engine part way and were adrift at sea for over a week without food and water in hopes of a better life….I was enthusiastically, embarking to sail through unchartered icy waters to some of the most remote places in the world, on a very well provisioned race boat…all just for FUNSIES. The irony of how we both view boats differently is not lost upon me.
Yes I did see a polar bear (5 actually) and belugas, but we didn’t find the elusive narwhal. I’m still looking for a tattoo artist to help me with my nautical tattoo for earning my blue nose (crossing the arctic circle), which is a polar bear and I finally earned my two swallows! So send me your recommendations!
Of all the moments of unimaginable beauty, the belly laughs with the crew, and awe inspiring nature, this moment encapsulates my entire heart of the trip. Being with the best crew, being silly, and just joyful excellence. Nothing beats watching Al and Shauna do a narwal dance!
Open Roads
From the arctic and straight to the desert, I hit the road for a month in Utah with Jamie, Kevin and Irie and it could not have worked out better. We had some incredible nights of stargazing and I was completely blown away by the geography. I called the cliffs “landbergs” because they just looked like icebergs on land. I hadn’t been to these parts of Utah before and I was surprised with how much I loved it. So much to explore! I can’t wait to go back.
It was the perfect way to coast my way back into society…and it was also a very emotional time for me to work through a wide range of emotions. But no better place to process it all than on an open road in some of the most ancient lands.
My favorite part was getting to spend some one-on-one time with Kevin’s Grandma, Rocky. I hadn’t seen her in a few years, and since then we both found ourselves on our own again. Her candid, refreshing sense of honesty and wisdom was exactly what I needed. I feel so grateful to have been able to spend a couple days with just her while Kevin and Jamie were camping with other friends. It’s so special to have one-on-one time with people who have lived daring and beautiful lives. Sharing life lessons is such a gift.
I’ll never forget walking into The Historic Smith Hotel to find Grandma Rocky with her best friend of over 30 years, Bunny, sitting at the entrance and the first thing they said was, “Would you like a gin and juice?”. That afternoon was full of laughter, commiseration, and shared wisdom. I’m glad to know that these gal topics don’t ever change even into our elder years! Or maybe I shouldn’t be glad because it means it doesn’t ever get better, but either way, it was a very real moment of knowing things will never be perfect.
I am so grateful for the wisdom of all the older women in my life, who have lived a life well lived, and have supported me over the years. We don’t give enough credit to the sisterhood of generational friendships.
Women on the Water
Healing doesn’t happen overnight, and it is not linear. But these are the moments this year that touched my soul and gave me the encouragement to keep going. The moments that spoke to my intuition on a level that needed no words.
I will never forget the moment I was washing dishes in my sink and heard a knock. Through the french doors, seeing Kirsten Neuschäfer standing there was about as unreal as the polar bears I saw in the arctic. It’s not every day your sailing idol stops by your place for breakfast and a chat. I had just hosted an online presentation with Kirsten and Jeanne Goussev for work just a couple weeks prior and she happened to be coming into town to give a presentation at the Northwest Maritime Center. I invited dear Emma over so she could meet her idol as well, and it was a lovely morning of sailor girl talk and I tried my best not to fangirl. It’s one of those moments that felt like such a big deal, but it also felt so natural that there was almost nothing to note of it, other than just being purely wonderful.
I can’t help but wonder if this moment set me up for such an incredible year of sailing with women on the water. Each grateful moment gave me the strength to keep going.
How lucky am I to have the support of Port Townsend legend, Diana Talley, who helped me turn an idea into a reality. Using flowers I dried and pressed from her garden, I added them to Lil’ Bucket’s transom, and while it wasn’t exactly how I envisioned (how to keep colors from fading?), I was so humbled and grateful for Diana’s time, expertise, and space for my little project!
Diana published her memoir this year, and I couldn’t be happier for her. A woman who has lived such an extraordinary life and a witty storyteller, if you have not read her book yet, you must! I am so grateful that she put these stories down to share with the world so we can all learn from her courage. On a touching note, she chose one of my photos of her from our La Push adventure for her back cover. What an honor it is to have gotten to know her in recent years. The world will never know how much this woman has lifted me up. And I know she has done this for countless other women.
Speaking of author friends, Rachel’s cookbook, Open Sesame came out this year too! Not only did I get to help taste test these recipes, I got to shoot her About the Author photo and I thought it would be a tiny thumbnail in the back but it takes up a whole page and seeing a byline never gets old. Gotta get those small ego kicks ya know! I am so proud of Rachel and it’s been amazing to see her really flourish the last couple of years!
While we’re on the topic of badass women authors, one of my favorite moments this year was meeting Jane Wong. I think we were long lost sisters in a past life. “Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic City” is one of the most beautifully written and honest books I’ve read in a long time. It is singularly the only relateable book I’ve read since I first discovered Claudia’s character in The Babysitter’s Club during my days as a kid growing up in the library.
I recommend this book to any Asian American woman that has ever been called “exotic” or asked to be Pochahontas in the school play because you’re the only person of color in your classroom even though you’re not Native American…or you can’t figure out what generational trauma has occurred that keeps you choosing crappy partners, or you suffer from imposter syndrome.
If that hasn’t been your experience, then you should read it to get an idea of what it is like growing up as a child of immigrant parents. Jane’s stories are funny, heartbreaking, and poetic.
From the opening story of being fed mangos by her mother as she breaks down over a massive heartbreak at 37, to her Bellingham buddy Brandon, to her younger brother named Steven, you would think that I suddenly became a poet and wrote the book myself. The coincidences are parallels were eerie for me. Maybe it’s just me and my overwhelming emotions this year, but I cried reading this book for all the life lessons and human experiences shared and told so thoughtfully by the author. Please get yourself a copy!
Learning to Take the Helm
Keeping the lovefest and lifting each other up, I feel so lucky to have some of the best women in my life. It may not seem like a big deal to most people, and you would think with all the miles and races I’ve logged, I would be more confident behind the helm, but that just isn’t the case. Dinghies? Sure – great. Anything larger where I can actually take passengers? It takes a lot for me to muster the courage, and thankfully, I have the most incredible circle of experienced women sailors who have always encouraged me over the years. This year, I did my best to step into it!
Caretaking for Brandt’s folkboat Chloe was a godsend for my sanity and my heart through a rough winter. It helped get me out of the house and doing something familiar but new. It may not seem it, but this was a hard moment for me because it was supposed to be part of a future I thought I had with someone else. We really don’t give enough credit to those who are facing silent battles. I am proud of myself for pushing through the tears and grief of letting go. It would be one of many moments this year. Thanks to Jen who came all the way up from Seattle just to go day sailing with me, I started to build confidence and practiced taking Chloe on and off the dock. Just as spring was about to start, Emma was helping me get comfortable taking her out as well, until Chloe’s gear shift cable came undone, but luckily we made it back to the dock without any bumps.
Or how about the woman that drove an hour and a half just to scream, burn letters and dance around a fire with me? I learned that I did not know how to process angry feelings without completely shutting down, and this moon fire ritual, suggested by Sarah was a lifesaver. SO grateful for Kate for being the girl that will always have your back. She was my first sailing sister and she sent me up to the Arctic with all her Maiven swag! If you haven’t check out her amazing sailing gear site, check it out! Buy all the things and support a woman owned business!
Racing with badass women!
I got to crew in my second international race this year, Round Saltspring, with a whole new badass crew of women on a Santa Cruz 27, Wild Rumpus (how perfect was it that she’s yellow?). We made it around the 40 miles before sunset, and it was one of those perfect days of racing where you get everything in between. We sailed into a sunset finish (14th out of 68 boats), blasting music and singing on the rails, and I don’t know why we don’t do this everyday. I am so grateful another boat got this video of us in all of our joy!
First Race Skipper
I also got to skipper a race for the first time ever in something larger than a dinghy, and I couldn’t have asked for a better crew or more trusting skipper. So much gratitude for Jodi, who trusted me with her Santa Cruz 27, P Swift, we got to take her out during the Prism Regatta for pride weekend! It felt very full circle with Kate on bow and me driving. We had a hilarious amount of mistakes that included being very late for the start, an upside down turtle pile of crew in the cockpit, and the slowest bump into an inflatable buoy. But we did pass three boats in the end, and won an award for perseverance!
Friendships that Endure More Than Time
This year, I have become so much more aware of the power and appreciation of my friendships. The way people showed up for me when I was struggling really had me at a loss for words. So many friends who I don’t even know that well reaching out, and those that did know me well showed up at my doorstep.
Sometimes you don’t have to be besties for the entirety of your friendship, but you sure can love ’em like they are. I’ve known Pattycakes since I was 5 years old, and I don’t know a better human being than him. There is no one more genuine, generous, and as talented as him and I am so grateful for all the memories our friendship has created over the years. I’ve only known David for about 14 years, but witnessing the brotherhood between these two guys is just something so special it’s hard to explain. A late night banjo sing-a-long hour during the last full moon of the year that had me feeling all the feels. We sang old songs and new songs. It made me think about our first banjo sing-a-long that was captured by the lovely Katie Lybeck. Late nights singing with Pat and David John are some of the most sweetest my little heart keeps forever. Thinking about how much we’ve all grown, both of these guys now dads, it makes me so grateful to have shared these precious moments with them. And especially grateful for the times we get to spend together now.
For nearly 17 years, Brandon and I have seen each other go through a myriad of life experiences and I can’t say enough about how him and his family really held me together this year. It’s the kind of gratitude that you feel deep down inside that you know is not replaceable or can be replicated. It’s the kind of love that holds you while you’re spiraling, falling apart, and comes just to sit next to you. It’s quiet, respectful, and always growing. It’s the deep belly laughs that make you cry, the unexplainable synchronicity of banter, and the joy of just spending time together without expectation. It’s making good food and good drinks to share. It’s the safety of being comforted while you’re the most sea sick you’ve ever been, the late nights of being read a book over the phone till I fell asleep because I was so anxious, and being the first person to show up without being asked. How lucky am I to be so seen and supported by this amazing family?
The same day I stepped off a plane from Newfoundland, after being on a boat for three months, I found myself with Brandon and Nathan on our way to see Sturgill Simpson at the Gorge. Greeted by a twerking Nathan and spam musabi from Brandon, it’s these kinds of moments that remind you why coming home is so special.
The next day, I made my way down to Redmond, Oregon to meet Jamie, Ali, and Shawna at Cascade Equinox. You know your festie bestie loves you when she dresses you up because you didn’t have time to get to your storage unit and bring your festival gear. True love is letting your best friend sweat and dance in your Rosa Bloom.
Jamie and I have been soul sisters for 14 years now and honestly, it feels like we have lived so many lifetimes together. I’ve watched her grow from a blissful bride, to an exceptional teacher, to a loving mother. She heals my inner child one playful adventure and attentive listening session at a time. We have both had to grow with so many individual changes, and it takes a lot of intentional effort to be there for each other. It’s been a gift to have someone and be someone who can always hold space for the other in all the ways they show up. There is no one I love as dearly as this once in a lifetime friendship.
Never Grow Up
Nothing marks time like watching children grow up. This year, I was so lucky to share some really exceptional moments with my favorite tiny human and the not so tiny human anymore.
I never thought I would get a chance to see Taylor Swift again, but I found myself at her last stop on her Eras tour in Vancouver with my favorite not so little friend, Ellie. It was Ellie’s first international trip away from her family and maybe the first time I was actually responsible for someone other than myself.
I’ve known Ellie since before she was born and watching her grow up into this beautiful teenager, and seeing how much good she shares with the world, had me with all the feels. I chose to share this weekend with her because it marked one year of my new found freedom, and all I wanted to do was give all the joy I possibly could to someone who least expects it. Just as I have been so lucky to experience this year over and over again.
As my favorite Swiftie friend, she was a natural pick and together, we sang, laughed, and danced for 3.5 hours. She held me while I ugly cried during “Lover”, and I tried my best not to sob when Taylor performed a surprise mash up of “Never Grow Up” and “The Best Day” and I looked at Ellie with all the feels.
In just a few short years, Ellie will be the same age as her mom Cassi was when I first met her. It’s hard to believe she’ll be driving next year, and in a few short years after that, it’ll be legal for her to drink in Canada! 🙁
It’s a good reminder to savor the years I have left with Irie…who I can’t believe I’ve been able to watch grow up so closely the last few years. These photos from our Utah trip and then the ones comparing Irie from our first road trip in 2020 to now is just amazing. The videos are even more precious. She went from learning how to bounce to “Under the Sea”, to singing along and playing percussion with me this year!
There are so many more people who have contributed as well, these are the ones I actually have photos and video of. Not pictured, are people like Holly and Ashley, who despite going through a crazy year themselves, always made the time and effort to reach out and check in on me. It’s a rare thing to keep the friendships like that going and I am so grateful for all of the extended support they have given me even though they weren’t always available in person. That kind of support should never be taken for granted.
Onward and Upward
Never seen Northern Lights before this year and this year I got to see them in three different places (Port Townsend, Newfoundland, Utah). None as beautiful as the first sighting in Port Townsend.
It was a rough start to the year, but thanks to those who have helped heal a heart they didn’t break, I not only survived, I found ways to thrive. I am also proud of myself too. Learning to acknowledge myself not only in the times I thrived, but to see myself when I felt the most broken, and to hold myself when there was no one else, that took more courage than braving an arctic adventure. This year will no longer be known as the year my life fell apart, it will be known as the year I learned how to rebuild a home within myself. It might quite possibly have been my best year yet.
At the beginning of the year, I wrote about describing how I felt like a tree that once stood peacefully and joyfully…now stripped of the moss, bark, and leaves, naked and unsure how to grow back. I couldn’t recognize myself. When I moved everything into storage this summer, I wrote a letter to my home. I think it’s appropriate to reshare because when I reread this now, I now know that I have carried my home with me in everything I did this year. Honoring a place that held so much hope and love, so much heartbreak and tears, it helped me learn to stand tall and rebuild a new home within myself.
Goodbye sacred treehouse.
You have held me in my most transformative time. I leave you unexpectedly and reluctantly, but I know that my reluctance has kept me stuck in the past before. And this is the year of unattachment, and trusting what the universe holds for me next is something I never imagined.
I have felt the most loved I’ve ever felt here, I have felt the most broken I have ever felt here, and I have learned how to pick myself here. I have felt the most inspired and seen here. This is a place that has held me through a metamorphosis that I have learned how to completely surrender to.
My sacred treehouse, that would’ve never been without a partner who was willing to show up for a dream. But not all dreams come to fruition. My sacred treehouse that has held me when life has continually unraveled itself around me over and over and over again.
My sanctuary, our treehouse. It will forever be our home no matter how much smudging, laughter or new memories created. It will always be where I thought our life would begin. It will always remind me of how much courage I had within me, even if the universe had another plan. It will always remind me that it’s possible to be loved this much. And that love is not always enough. That I am worthy of the greatest love and I will always lead myself with kindness and courage.
Where I watch the sunlight rise in the morning, the smell of lilacs waft through the bedroom windows in the spring. Where the hummingbirds gather on the sun porch and bird songs change with the season. Where I watch the moon rise from bed, and several times mistaken the clocktower for a full moon. Where I watched the northern lights and rainbow dances.
It’s where I learned the limits of love, and my ability to continually transform what I thought was truth.
There’s something quite special about this sanctuary. I knew it from the moment we walked in. We loved it because of the light and history. I never knew how different life would be when I would leave this place, but I know I leave smarter, more humble, and with a little more peace in my heart.
Thank you sacred treehouse. For holding me when no one else could, until I learned how to hold myself again.
Onward.
As much as I would like to have a clear plan for what 2025 will look like, all I know is that plans are only an illusion. I know what is meant for me won’t pass me. It’s a fine line balancing between waiting without expectation and manifesting and creation.
I do have a couple rather exciting opportunities on the horizon. I am on an panel of women at the Seattle Boat Show next year (Monday, Feb. 3) and we will be sharing our stories and experiences in boating. More terrifyingly, I will be a keynote speaker at the Seattle Yacht Club’s Women’s Boating Skills Weekend (presenting on Sunday, April 6). I’ll be sharing my story about my self discovery during Northwest Passage. Something around my family origins, women on the water, and my path…something like that…I’m still working on it…Both of these events will be new experiences for me. I was always the person organizing speakers and so now it feels strange to be on the other side of it now.
Thank you 2024. What a beautiful year of expanse you have been. In the void of things that were not meant for me, I discovered everything that had been waiting for me. I’m grateful for small moments of clarity that allow me to become a more expansive version of myself. My words this year were Vitality, Healing, and Reciprocity.
My words for 2025 will be Rebirth, Expression, and Hope.
I feel like this last year has been about shedding and stripping myself of everything that grounds me, and I am in the phase of rebirth. I am working on several self-expression projects that I am not ready to share yet, but maybe by the end of next year I will be. Hope is not something I usually struggle with, but I have seen myself continuously struggle to keep my jadedness in check this year. I want to keep hope alive, because I choose to have joy, unconditional love, and gratitude in my life.
I’m not too worried about what my future will hold. I am full of gratitude for all the healing in nature, for all the love from my people, and the hard work it took this year to know I can trust myself again. With that, I am ready to step into all the possibilities.
If you’ve actually made it this far into probably the longest year end reflection to date, then thank you. I don’t really know what keeps compelling me to keep writing and sharing these every year, but my hope is that through my sharing that you may get something out of it for yourself. And even if just one person gets something, that is enough.
We don’t always have to know where we stand
To know where we are going.
Just so long as we have the courage
to trust that the path forward
believes in you too.
Maybe then we will come to appreciate
where we have come from and where we once stood.
I hope you find a way to be a mirror for yourself. To look at yourself with compassion, hold yourself close, all your fears and your hurt, hold them close and whisper to yourself that even the pain has a place in your heart too. These moments will be some of our biggest teachers, even if we haven’t found the message we need yet.
Remember: you are enough. When in doubt, put on a song and dance it out!
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