Path For Change

08/20/2026

08/18/2026

A little afternoon break under a very yellow umbrella.

Blue sky, cold water, and absolutely nothing on the agenda for a few minutes.

Sometimes that's exactly what a day needs.

08/12/2026

Every other week, I write about what it's really like living with chronic pain, chronic illness, and the kind of stress that settles into the body. This week's post is about rebuilding your life when the blueprint you built it around no longer fits.

If you live with chronic illness or chronic pain, you already know rebuilding doesn't happen all at once. It happens piece by piece, often while everything still feels unsteady.

Read more here:

When old routines stop working, it's not failure. A gentler way to think about rebuilding your life.

08/11/2026

Last week I had the chance to set up a table at a showcase at Windmoor Healthcare of Clearwater and I'm still feeling grateful for it.

Getting to sit down, talk with people, and share what Path For Change offers is exactly the kind of connection that helps me reach more of the people who need this work. Conversations like that matter more than I can always put into words.

Thank you to the team at Windmoor for the opportunity. Looking forward to more conversations ahead.

08/04/2026

Standing on a cliff, taking in the whole view.

There's something about standing above it all that changes your perspective. The wide horizon. The open sky. Everything feels a little bigger, and whatever felt urgent back home feels smaller from way up here.

I don't get to stand on a literal cliff every day. But I've been thinking about how to bring a little bit of that wide view into ordinary days. Zooming out instead of zooming in. Noticing the whole picture instead of just the one worrying detail.

Some days that's easier than others.

Where do you go, literally or otherwise, when you need a wider view?

07/28/2026

I found George.

Every year, my kids and I buy a scarecrow. We name him George. Every single one.

Here's the real story. The first one we ever got, my daughter was very young, and we called him George. She decided that meant every scarecrow was named George. So every scarecrow we saw after that, she'd point and say "George!" It stuck, and it's been George ever since.

So when I wandered into a store yesterday and found an entire wall of Georges staring back at me, in July, in Florida, while it is roughly one thousand degrees outside, I got unreasonably excited.

Fall décor in July in Florida makes me giggle.

So with a smile on my face, I put George in my cart and brought him home. And yes, he rode in the passenger front seat right next to me.

Do you have a weird little tradition like this? Tell me I'm not alone.