Blog
January 2026
The Knowing of Me
I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. I’ve made hundreds over the years, only to
watch them fade into vague memories within a short time. What has struck me more in recent
years is something quieter and more meaningful. January, with all its talk of fresh starts, has
instead become a time for reflection — a chance to notice how I know myself better, differently,
and sometimes in entirely new dimensions than before.
After all, the most important relationship I will ever have is the one I have with myself.
Everything I do comes from that knowing.
I began to see myself in more descriptive terms during moments when I was fully engaged —
especially on the yoga mat. When I was pushing through, giving everything I had, and then
finding just a little more, I noticed the language in my mind began to shift:
Delta does hard things. Delta has more than she thought. Delta is brave.
And the list kept growing. Each of these moments felt like a snapshot — a photograph capturing
a deeper truth about who I am.
So now, instead of setting resolutions, I move into the year with curiosity. January becomes a
time of noticing. February becomes a time of asking: Where do I want to go — or stay — with
this knowing of myself?
I’m sharing a photo below that reflects the inspiration I’m holding as I step forward this month,
along with a few images that capture the words and qualities that have come to define how I see
myself.
What would yours look like?
March 2026
Expanding your space and life
This spring, I’m doing something different.
I’m spending four months in Michigan—slowing down, being with family I didn’t grow up knowing, and allowing myself to experience connection in a way that once felt unfamiliar. My aunt—the matriarch of this side of the family—was my travel companion to Italy, and our time together was nothing short of beautiful. That experience opened something in me. And now, I’m choosing to keep living from that place…more wholly, more openly.
When you’ve lived with Complex PTSD rooted in family, stepping into a different kind of relational experience can feel disorienting. Even unsafe. Your body doesn’t always recognize what is good for you. It can feel foreign to receive care without an edge, without a cost.
So let me tell you about Jeno.
Jeno is my cousin. A steady, kind, and genuinely good man. He with his wife Vanessa, raised three incredible sons, and he moves through life with a quiet integrity that is easy to trust.
As I prepared for the long drive to Michigan, I mentioned I could use some company—I’m not the strongest driver when I’m tired. Without hesitation, Jeno spoke up: “That’s me. I want to help.”
That moment landed in a place in me that is still learning.
My primary reference point for men in my early life was shaped by deep harm—my brother, who struggled with antisocial personality traits, and whose impact left lasting wounds. That history doesn’t simply disappear. It lives in the body, in expectation, in caution.
And yet—Jeno is not that story.
He is part of something new.
Part of the healing.
And I find myself in the quiet, meaningful work of allowing that in. Of recognizing that I get to receive kindness. That I don’t have to earn it, question it, or brace against it.
To those of you who also carry the imprint of relational trauma, I want to gently ask:
Are you noticing the moments that don’t match your past?
Are you allowing yourself to receive what is different?
What would it take to lean—just a little—toward something new?
Healing doesn’t always arrive in grand breakthroughs. Sometimes, it shows up as a simple offer:
“I want to help.”
And the courage is in saying yes.
Because on the other side of that yes, life begins to feel lighter…
and fuller at the same time.
And that kind of experience?
You won’t find it at a spa.