As this year closes and yet another one opens
Not sure where to place all this wishin and hopin
Been through the wringer – stuck on survivin and copin
My therapy is written words and those spoken:
All the trauma leaking through my paper plate
Weakening from the all this added weight
Decaying matter past expiration date
Molding, polishing it to verse and bemoan my fate
Freestyle poems to make my flow first rate
Songs of strength, social justice and challenging hate
Lofty ideals and platitudes are great…
But, I witness multitudes of micro and macro aggressions
Many met with uncomfortable silence and hesitations
Past scenarios flash in my front of my eyes
And I try to forgive myself all the botched tries
All the times I thought to speak was unwise
Considering my job threatened and other reprisals
When I could challenge rivals and facilitate soul revivals
Next year, I must develop this skill
holding others accountable cause no one else will
Gotta live the truth that I wanna create
And find something to bolster my paper plate

I have spent much time creating lists;

One for goals, one for wishes, and one for expectations missed. 

I have decided to leave those lists behind;

moving into 2025 more aligned.

Instead, I shall covet each spring blossom,

thawing the winter’s solemn.

Finding peace in the moments when the sun rises in the east; 

And with it, the warmth of the sun unleashed. 

Attending nature’s symphony, as the wind whispers through the leaves;

Uncovering a profound simplicity where peace and stillness weave.

Seeking glimmers of humanity, 

in order to restore my sanity. 

I will not spend much time creating lists;

Instead, I will seek life’s apricity where my soul can persist.

2025, this is my goal
Stay 10 toes down and not fold

What’s my goal
Not to let life’s challenges take control

I won’t be shaken
I’m moving forward, don’t be mistaken

I’ve got my own path
Launching my biz-you do the math

Thirty-two years in this game
Now it’s time to shift the frame

No more listening to that corporate voice
I’m gonna make my own choice

God gave me the sign, now’s is the time
No more sitting back, it’s time to climb

I’m walking by Faith and not by sight
My Trust in God will guide me right

No time to second guess, I’m all about delivering success

I’ve planted the seeds, now I’m waiting on the leads

This is my passion
I’m your Travel Advocate

Taking care all your travel needs
Exceptional customer service is guaranteed

I’m not anxious or greedy
My motto is “Making Travel Easy”

You want to know my goal for 2025
Watch me soar and see my vibe

My Goal don’t you know
I’m living in the overflow

For 25′ I want to be AL(I)VE;
AL(I)VE in my fullest expression without self-suppression;
In 24′ I learned a great many lessons;
I was hesitant to embrace SO(U)L and L(I)GHT and as a result I was the culprit behind the robberies of my opportunities and blessings;

I left things undone, continuously making a bigger mess;
Yet I accomplished , more or less, just not at the level that I desired;
At times I questioned whether or not I was equipped with enough willpower because I often found myself dropping the ball when it mattered most;

A light shines bright inside that EYE was blind to too, not just the ones EYE wanted to really see me;

But how could EYE expect others to see me if I didn’t fully utilize the courage to truly be me;

L(I)FE starts through a single spark;
From a spark I came and a spark I AM;
I desire to know what it means to be AL(I)VE in 25′;
I no longer want to hide what’s (I)NSIDE;
So that spark within, that spark that I AM, I set ablaze until my entire being is engulfed in flame;

My only goal in 25′ and in L(I)FE is to experience the L(I)GHT that fills my world when I choose to shine

Dear 2025,

Hello, there! It’s me, Heather. A woman who each year has so many dreams and goals to accomplish for the new year ahead. A woman that always walks with her head held high and mind set to open. The woman who each year makes a personal goal to better herself. Intellectually and sentimentally. This year though, it’s more about health and taking care of the body in a physical matter.

This year, I want happiness. Not just for my outer layer, but for my internal layer as well.
I want laughter. Not just from social media or television, but from reality. From sincere places.
I want clarity. Not just from words from others that are relatable, but from my mind and soul.
I want adventure. Not just with familiar faces, but with just mine and the open road.

2025, it’s you vs. me.
Your experiences vs. my courage.
Those reminders you send out vs. my achievements.
It’s your arms with the fastballs vs. my open arms, ready to catch those throws.

2025, I’m ready for your experiences.
Ready for your daily reminders.
I’m ready for your fastballs.

I. Am. Ready!

Writing style: 100%

What are my goals for 2025?

To dig my toes into the sandswept shores of the Pacific Ocean

To feel gentle waves breaking and the cool water against my sun-tanned skin

To see sunsets with colors that can only be matched in Heaven.

To sip Cabernet in a Californian vineyard while a sommelier teaches me and my sisters about the wine we are drinking and how it was made.

To see the Golden Gate Bridge in all it’s grandeur

To explore underground caves taking in the beauty of stalactites and stalagmites

To watch seals as they lazily sunbathe as the waves crash around them

To take in the sights, sounds, colors, and culture of California.

To be carefree and in the present moment with the ones I love.

To snuggle up so close to them that I can hear each beat of their heart

To soak in every moment

To travel

To achieve these results will take sacrifice

It will require saying some “no’s,” so I can ultimately say “yes” to time with my family

Will take a re-evaluating of my spending habits

Will require learning to distinguish a “want” from a “need”

Will teach me different ways to save.

This year my goal is to be financially responsible so that I can spend the thing that is most precious

Time with my family and those I love.

I made a pact with the mirror one day,
To stop hiding my dreams, to clear the way.
Pen to paper, my soul I’d bare,
Not just for me, but for others out there.

For the foster youth who feel unheard, I’ll give them a voice, I’ll honor their word.
A guide, a light, to show what’s due, to teach them the power of “I deserve too.”

This blog, this space-it’s more than a goal,
It’s the healing of hearts, the mending of souls.
A place where stories rise and thrive,
Proof that every struggle means we’re alive.

I write my truths, I ink my fears,
Short stories, poems-through blood, through tears.
I signed a contract, sealed with resolve,
to grow through creation, to steadily evolve.

They say I’m late, but I know my pace,
Dreams ain’t a race, it’s a journey to grace.
Even blooms in winter can break through the frost,
No time is wasted, no dream is lost.

So here I stand, a see reborn,
A life once frayed, now no longer torn.
For those who need hope, I’ll always scream:
Even the late bloomer can chase their dream!

What is a book?
Is it just a collection of letters,
Sorted into words,
Arranged into sentences,
Grouped into paragraphs,
Bundled into chapters,
Bound together by a central theme?
If that’s the case,
Then I’ve written a book.
A couple, actually.
But it doesn’t feel like it.
My books are digital only.
That’s the way to go these days,
Isn’t it?
Print is dead, right?
Then why do I feel as if
I have NOT written a book?
Maybe I’m just being foolish,
But I want more.
I want my book to occupy space
On my bookshelf
Next to the fireplace.
I want to be able to read the title and my name
On the spine of the book as it is
Nestled in the bookshelf,
Uncomfortably squeezed literally and literarily
Between classics like Ulysses and Moby Dick.
I want to physically hold the book
And curl up in a comfy chair with it.
I want to riffle through the pages,
Creating a breeze I can feel on my face.
I want the tactile experience of the printed word,
As I rub a page between my thumb and forefinger.
I want a book that can be ruined
Should a page be torn from it.
I want a book that has some staying power,
Whether on a shelf or in a storage box gathering dust,
While the owners forget what’s inside.
I no longer want my book to be only a digital file
That can be deleted with a click on a trash bin icon
Or lost forever at the next hard drive crash.
I want a sense of permanence for my book.
At least I want it to outlast me.
Perhaps this may be a flight of vanity.
I prefer to think of it more as a legacy
That proves I was here,
That I had thoughts,
And that I recorded them for posterity.
For those reasons and others,
I will publish a book in print this year.
I will riffle the pages
And breathe in the smell of the newly printed paper.
Then I will place my book on my bookshelf.

Another year is knocking,
But I am not ready to answer.
Don’t they know rebirth doesn’t happen in winter?

I am still unbecoming.
I am still busy undoing.
My bones are still tired.
I don’t feel like pursuing.

I will leave the Christmas tree up.
I will continue to rest.
I had to learn this the hard way:
There’s no use trying to be best.

I do not plan to start anew.
I do not wish to have a goal.
I will not write out things to do,
Or make a vision board of it all.

I have done enough.
I saved more than money.
I saved my life a few times
And still haven’t tasted honey.

It is not me who needs to be sweeter.

I do not need to be better.
It is the years who need to be better to me.

Make reservations for a weeknight,
at the new restaurant in the next town over,
where they serve drinks in silly plastic bath tubs
with rubber ducks floating on curaçao-blue bath water
and the smoke from searing cuts of steak
perfumes the couples in corner booths:
L’eau de garlic.

Call in sick when the sun rises,
and I’ve not gone to bed,
kept awake through the witching hours by
the tale of a land where there are still dragons
and a knight who falls for the lady
with a skilled sword hand and
a sharp tongue.

Turn off my cell phone and
spend twenty unmoving minutes
in front a pond that Monet painted
until my eye lose focus
and the light tricks them into seeing
ripples move around the waterlilies.

Lay on the rocks that line the water’s edge
where the sound of the waves rises and falls
like breathing,
while the sun warms my back
as if I were a lounging lizard,
rather than a woman
with responsibilities.

This year, I solemnly swear
I will be up to no good
I will not hold a strong resolve
Only in a week, to watch it dissolve
I will not aim to be better
That’s merely a dream that will shatter
I will not promise
To dole out advice that sounds oh-so-wise
I will not always be put-together
Pieces of me will break and scatter

And since resolutions are meant to be broken
I will break all of the above ‘nots’
That will crumble the graham cracker wall that stands tall
Holding layers of soft cream within
Wait, sorry for the interruption, but what is that low rumble I hear?
Hmm, maybe that’s a sign..

This year I resolve
That I shall most definitely solve
That problem of knots
That enigma of ‘nots’
To discard all that I am not
So I may recognize all that I am.

And to begin, I need to contemplate
On softened, creamy, layered, graham cracker crust

And with this noble goal in mind,
This year, I resolve
That I most definitely shall meditate
Over a whole lot of cheesecake.

In the year of 25
I want to live, I want to thrive
I want to do things I have never done
Live my life and have some fun
Swim in an ocean, climb a mountain that’s high
Jump from an airplane, make friends with the sky
Learn how to draw, get involved in the arts
A cooking class in France learning how to make tarts
Take a road trip with no plan of where
Play a few board games
Cut off my hair
Maybe fly an airplane in the big open sky
Watch a sad movie and try not to cry
Go to New York City where anything goes
Hide a dark secret that nobody knows
Continue being kind and continue having grace
Maybe go to the moon, maybe live in space
Perhaps write that book Ive always wanted to write
Maybe drive a train maybe fly a kite
Wish on a shooting star as it tumbles through the sky
Travel to the desert and watch the world go by
If my list seems impractical well, actually that’s true
Maybe paint a rainbow with just the color blue
All these things I thought of I created in my head
I think the rainbow would look better just painted all in red
So in the year of 25 I’m going to live and not just survive
I’m going to grow and I’m going to change
I may do things that are a little strange
But I’m going to be me and I’m going to smile
Because being yourself is always in style
Anything is possible when the year is new
The only thing in your way is ultimately you

Hello, my old friend,
It’s me. You know me well, don’t you? After all, you’ve been living within me, feeding on my doubts and hiding in the deepest shadows of my thoughts. I’ve denied your existence for too long, and I’ve given you far too much. You’ve crept into every corner of my life, turning my sleep into restless battles. You appear in my nightmares as a shadowy figure, granting me permission to live in your world while you claim ownership of everything—my home, my children, myself. Am I supposed to feel grateful for this?
You’ve made yourself quite comfortable in my world, dictating what I own, where I stay, what I say, and even how I dream. When I wake, the reality of your presence hits me like an icy wave, drowning me with the weight of your power. And yet, here I am, trying once again to pull my head out of water and to put into words the grip you have on me. We’ve done this dance before, haven’t we? You push my head down too far this time, and I refuse to relent.
Let me make this clear: you’re a pest. You’re the shapeless monster that chased me in childhood dreams, the one that kept my feet weighed down with leaded concrete as I tried to run. You’re the unseen force that breaks my heart and spins my mind in circles. But what are you, really? Are you a shadowy stranger pushing me toward growth, or just a figment of my mind, feeding on my uncertainties?
I’ve spent too long trying to define you, to understand why you scare me so. Is it because you’re imperceptible, living just beyond my view? Or is it because confronting you means risking everything? Perhaps it’s time I stop trying to define you and start challenging you instead. Let me start again.
Hello, Fear.
It’s me again, challenging you. You’ve become a basilisk in my life—a predator slithering through the shadows of my subconscious. Your gaze petrifies me, as though my every step might shatter into ruin beneath your weight. I’ve tried to avoid you, to pretend you’re not there, hoping that ignorance might weaken you. But you’re cunning, aren’t you? You thrive in the corners of my denial, growing stronger with every moment I refuse to look directly at you.
You’ve made yourself at home in my life, coiled around my dreams and my days, squeezing the air from my ambitions. I am left in the cold void, your presence a weight I carry long after the terror fades.
But I see you now for what you are. You’re not invincible. A creature of the earth, bound by the same rules that govern everything else. You move silently, planting your roots, spreading your poison like ivy through the cracks of my foundation. You’ve sown seeds of doubt in my mind, daring me to leave them unchecked, daring me to let your vines grow until they strangle everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
Yet I know your secret, Basilisk. Your power isn’t in your form—it’s in the fear you inspire. If I can stand before you and meet your gaze, I can shatter the illusion of your strength.
I’ve faced you before, and though you’ve taken much from me, you’ve never won. I remember the woman I was at twenty-five, with two small children and a heart full of determination. I walked out of your lair then, leaving behind everything you held over me. I stepped into a small apartment that was mine, utterly mine, free of your coils for the first time. It was terrifying. I lost so much. Yet, in that moment, I found something you could never possess love.
I met your gaze, and though the weight of your presence lingered, I proved to myself that I could survive.
So why should I let you win now? Why should I let you coil tighter around me when I’ve already broken free of you once? You may have taken advantage of my complacency over the years, but that brave girl I was hasn’t vanished. She’s still within me, waiting for me to listen. She will take my hand and say, “We’ve got this. We’ll do better for them.” She’ll point to my children, reminding me of the strength I drew from them the last time I faced you.
This is my promise: I will no longer let you hide in the shadows. I will pull you into the light. I will confront you, strip you of the power you’ve claimed, and show you that you are nothing without me—you will vanish.
I’ll keep moving, not because I’m fearless, but because I refuse to let you win.
Farewell, Fear,
Me

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