A Year of Letting Go, Opening Up, and Coming Home

Transitioning to retirement

If 2025 has taught me anything, it’s that transformation rarely arrives quietly.
This has been a year that asked so many of us to loosen our grip on the familiar, to grieve losses we didn’t see coming, and to sit tenderly with the question, “Who am I becoming now?”

There has been so much loss in my circle—loved ones passing, marriages dissolving, jobs ending, retirements arriving sooner than expected, whole identities melting and reforming.
And threaded through all of it?
A surprising tenderness. A strange grace.
A reminder that change, even when it knocks the wind out of us, also cracks the door to possibility.

I’ve been walking my own version of that threshold.

After nearly 30 years in the federal government, I made the decision to step into early retirement this coming January. It’s a mixed-bag kind of truth. There is relief. There is grief. There is gratitude. And there is a quiet, steady knowing that this moment in history is a complicated one—and that my spirit, my values, and my longing for a different kind of life were calling me forward.

So I listened.
And the life I’ve been dreaming of for years began unfolding almost immediately.

Reid at the Halloween parade in Del Ray

One of the brightest gifts of this year has been finding a life partner who makes my heart absolutely sing. Mark and I are both easing into retirement at the same time, which has created its own delightfully odd rhythm. Our sleep schedules are hilarious—two grown adults waking up at 2 a.m., dissolving into giggles like kids at a sleepover. More often than not, we pad into the living room in the quiet darkness, build a fire, make a cup of tea, eat popcorn, and watch a movie while the rest of the world dreams.

It feels like we’re practicing joy as a devotion.
Like laughter is our love language.

In November, I moved into his home in Del Ray with the world’s sweetest Great Pyrenees, Reid. Del Ray feels like a real-life Stars Hollow—the community is warm, quirky, creative, progressive, and alive with celebrations. We’ve got festivals, parades, weekly farmers markets, twinkle lights, impromptu sidewalk conversations, and more dogs than people. Truly, if you don’t have a dog when you move to Del Ray, you’ll probably have one by the time you leave. It’s just that kind of place.

November’s Simplicity Living Circle of Northern Virginia

And in that spirit of community, my beloved Simplicity Circle is stepping into a new chapter too. Beginning in January, the group will shift to fully community-led facilitation. This was always the dream—that everyone’s wisdom would be welcomed, that people could discover their own gifts through leading, that the circle would grow stronger with many hands and many voices. I’ll still be there whenever I’m not traveling, but the joy now is watching the community continue to blossom and evolve in ways I could never script.

As all of this movement has unfolded outwardly, something equally powerful has shifted inward.
I’m finally writing my book.
And my coaching practice is expanding in ways that feel deeply aligned with who I am and what I love.

Sacred space creation. Project #2 - November 2025

Lately I’ve been drawn to the art of creating sacred spaces—supporting people in shaping environments that help them feel grounded, clear, and at home in their own lives. Not just decluttering, but cultivating rooms that echo the truth of who they are. Spaces with plants, natural textures, dual-purpose beauty, light that holds you, corners that breathe with intention.

Our homes are reflections of our inner lives.
When we make them sacred, something sacred awakens in us.

This whole year has been one long invitation to step into the life I’ve imagined for so long—a life of joy, creativity, spiritual practice, partnership, travel, and inspired possibility. I don’t know exactly what the next chapter looks like, but honestly? I love surprises.

Despite the collective heartbreak of 2025, despite the heaviness many of us have carried, I’ve found peace in the simplest pleasures:
hot tea by the fire, community gatherings, honest conversations, long walks with Reid, writing, stillness, laughter, a partner who builds joy with me in the middle of the night.

Sacred space creation. Project #1 - October 2025

If this year has shaken you too, you’re not alone.
If you’re grieving, or shedding a skin you’ve outgrown, or standing at the edge of the unknown… you’re in good company.

This year has been messy and beautiful and bewildering, but it has also been a teacher—guiding many of us back to what matters most.
And maybe that’s the quiet gift underneath all this change:
the reminder that we are allowed to build lives that nourish us,
that joy can be a compass,
and that even in seasons of loss, hope is quietly unfurling just beneath the surface.

Here’s to the courage of letting go.
Here’s to the audacity of choosing joy.
And here’s to the next chapter—big, bold, creative, tender, and beautifully unknown.