Becoming…

It didn’t happen all at once.

There wasn’t some dramatic explosion, no single moment where I stood up and said I’m done with this life. It was slower than that. Quieter. It was in the way I never recognized myself in the path of my life. The way I went through the motions and told myself it was enough, even though a small voice inside me whispered, This isn't the life I want.

True to the Scorpio that I am, I tend to think starting over means burning it all down. Because the truth of it is, up until now, I have LOVED starting over from scratch. Just letting go of everything that wasn't working and starting over instead of figuring out what about myself needed to become more authentic. I grew up moving every few years and I think I learned from that the joy in starting over. The freedom. And I leaned into it too much as a way of coping.

Now, at the oh-so-grown age of 42, I've begun to see that in choosing to stay and choosing to focus inwards, I’ve learned that sometimes, starting over means listening more closely. Letting the discomfort in. Making a tiny shift. Then another. Then another.

And one day I woke up and realized—
I'm no longer surviving.
I'm no longer shape-shifting.
I'm no longer waiting for permission.
I'm just… shedding the things that aren't me and becoming.

For me, part of that shift meant choosing not to renew my current rental I shared with my sister for two years. As a single mom, living with my sister meant security and a feeling of not being alone. But, as I healed, I no longer needed that safety blanket and made the step to move into a beautiful apartment with my boys. And I'm beyond happy with the choice. It was another instance of letting go of something that was no longer me and it made room for the things to come in that are.

Another small choice has meant leaning into becoming a writer--something I have wrestled with wanting for a few years now. Last year, in between life and work, I wrote a book and sent it to agents. But it was a bust. After querying for a year and over 50 agents, I had to face the fact that I needed to get serious about my writing or give up. And something inside of me couldn’t give it up. It had become a part of me. So, I gave myself permission to start over. Not because the book wasn’t good enough, but because I’ve changed. And the story deserves the version of me who’s not afraid to tell the truth this time.

So that’s where I am now. Rewriting. Reimagining. Rebuilding a life that feels like mine.

Wynd & Stone isn’t about perfection. It’s about the slow, brave work of coming home to yourself. If you’re in that place too—shedding old stories, trying to find your footing, wondering who you’re allowed to be now—I hope this space feels like a soft landing.

This is the beginning.
I won’t be showing off here. I won’t be selling you a better version of yourself.

What I will offer is what I know how to give:

• A few words from my real mornings

• The things I’m learning to let go of

• The pieces I’ve decided to keep — whether they’re habits, objects, or ways of being

You’ll find bits of my home, photos of ordinary beauty, reflections on rhythm and rebuilding, and the vintage pieces I’ve collected that I’m ready to send back into the world.

I want this to feel like a letter slipped into your mailbox. A reminder that you don’t have to do everything. That beauty lives in authenticity and showing up as yourself. That it's okay to move through life at your own pace.

So welcome to this quiet space.

There’s room here for all of us.