A missed appointment. A forgotten bill. The growing pile of papers unsure what to do with. The frustration of business being online and her lack of wherewithal in how to deal with it. The slow loss of control. The greater loss of self. The identity slips away, leaving a body with a mind elsewhere.

What happens when Alzheimer’s takes over your brain?

Where does your identity go?

The Process

I watched as my mom slipped away. There were moments of cognition in between the segments of confusion. She would slip into her old self. She had been a great athlete in her youth, and she prided herself on her ability to stand on one leg and put her pants on without aid at 89. She liked to do things herself. Stubborn was a compliment for her.

She was so many things that I wasn’t. She was decisive. Determined. Inflexible. Adamant.

From the outside, she seemed hard.

She was hard.

Who She Was

She grew up believing there was a right way to do everything, and that was the way it was to be done. She didn’t accept slipshod work. She had standards. Very high standards.

As one of her three daughters, I am surprised she didn’t spend more time teaching us the right way to do things. She had a great sense of style, but shared none of that with us, except maybe in a negative remark when we didn’t meet her standards.

She was a home economics major because it was one of the few options available to her in college. But she wasn’t an award-winning cook by any means. She had 10 regular meals she rotated through… fried liver and onions my least favorite… right up there with stuffed bell peppers. Meatloaf. Pork chops. With apple sauce, of course. Right out of The Brady Bunch.

She had excellent posture until she didn’t. One day, she couldn’t stand up straight anymore. We lifted her up, and she curled right back over.

How she loved to read. It was a great escape for her. Mysteries. (The apple doesn’t fall far…) British mysteries. Not gore. Not psychological suspense.

Mom was wicked at playing cards. She’s been playing cards since she took the train to high school. Her group played on the train. Bridge. Canasta. Hearts. They were a tight lot. Separated by marriages. Even as her memory faded, she still beat us at cards. It was uncanny.

She grew up in the church. Her uncle was a parish priest. She always helped out there with her mother, my grandmother. When we moved west to California, she enjoyed working in the church. She felt at home there. She kept the linens ironed, the silver polished, the candles ordered, and the music on key. She also fixed all the flowers. She worked so hard for that church.

Not that anyone from the church has visited her since her mind went on a separate sojourn. The new priests don’t know her, have no memory of her, and all the years she dedicated to the parish. How she worked so hard to make their lives easier. That’s the problem with moving the priests around so much. Loss of continuity. Loss of respect. Loss of connection.

Where did she go?

If you look in her eyes, the spark is often still there, lighting up her face. She had so much energy.

The person she was is no more. But for that little spark. It’s hard to explain.

They debate over when a fetus becomes human and has a soul. When does a body lose its soul on the other end of the lifeline? When is it ok to say goodbye?

Tonight, my friend said goodbye to her dog. Milo had been a family member for 16 years. He was suffering. It was time.

Why is it we respect that with dogs and cats? What about the people who have served us well and are ready to move on? Can they not end respectfully? With dignity?

In Lois Lowry's The Giver, when a citizen reaches a certain age, they are released. No one really understood what exactly that meant, but it becomes clear in the story. The person’s usefulness is deemed over, and they are “retired.”

We don’t attempt to make that judgment call. We let people suffer with the loss of identity, loss of bodily control, loss of ability to feed and care for themself, loss of their minds, and linger on… for years.

I sit with my mom as she speaks nonsense. But I can see the gleam in her eyes. The bright blue-grey eyes that have seen so much and are now left to this small enclosed world of hers. I would love to talk to her. Ask her about her own divorce. How it felt to sleep alone. What she enjoyed most about her years. What she misses most right now. I would love to ask her about falling in love with my dad and her wedding. Silly topics that I didn’t think about before. And now it’s too late.

She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know I am the fruit of her womb. I smile at her and listen as she babbles on. And then she puts her head down and falls asleep, only to wake up 5 minutes later because lunch is served, and she loves to eat. She eats more than I do. Finishes every last bite. A habit leftover from her childhood. The Clean Plate Society.

Every time her living facility calls, I wonder if this will be THE call. I answer with great trepidation. No, not yet. Needs more diapers.

What is left

The funny/awkward thing is… my mom still carries the essence of my mom. It’s amazing, really. How she relates to the caretakers at her facility. She winks and smiles at John who brings her coffee with sugar because he knows she loves it that way. She always was quite the flirt. How she laughs when the caretakers dance and sing for them. Her way of being in the world is somehow the same… her energetic imprint is still there. Her energy is still that of my mother. She is somewhere inside there. When she touches me, the impact on my body is the same. Her tone is there. How she makes eye contact and insists upon it when she’s speaking to me. That underlying sense of who she is lingers on. The history is gone. But something is there…

The Impact on me

I go through my day and then remember something I’d forgotten to do. I panic. Will I follow my mother’s footsteps? Is someone coming to steal my mind? I try to relax and tell myself my brain is sharp and healthy.

Which is my mom’s problem. She is so healthy, strong, determined. But her memory…

Her sense of self is gone. She doesn’t know who she is. Or who I am. Or my sister. But she’s still happy to see us and to drink coffee with us.

I tell my daughters everything I can think of that they might want to know. Probably too much… but just in case.

I read every book on prevention. I analyze all the factors of my mother’s life. But her brother has it… and her sister….

They said they don’t see any genetic markers in me.

It must be the liver and onions.

Or stuffed bell peppers.

I never wanted to eat those.

Could it have been the orange flavored Jell-O? Or chocolate pudding?

NO. Liver and peppers.

Good to avoid.

What Does the Tarot Suggest?

After writing this, I pulled the Queen of Wands.

At first, it didn’t make sense. This card is about vitality, presence, life force… and Alzheimer’s feels like the opposite of that.

But then I realized…

Maybe this isn’t about what’s being lost.

Maybe it’s about what remains.

Because even as memory fades, there is still something unmistakably her.

And maybe my role now is not to reach for what’s gone…

But to meet her in what is still alive. To connect with what is possible. Accepting what is and moving forward with that.

She is still inspiring others. In that way, we are the same.

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Somewhere along the way, I learned that pleasure had to be earned.

Not explicitly. No one sat me down and said it outright.
But it was there… woven into the fabric of how I lived my life.

Work first.
Take care of everyone else.
Be productive.
Be useful.

And then… maybe… if there’s time left over… I can have a little something for myself.

(And even then, don’t get too comfortable.)

For me, that “something” has always been reading.

I love reading. I always have.
But for most of my life, reading during the day felt… indulgent. Almost irresponsible.

Reading was for before bed.
Reading was for Sundays.
Reading was for when everything else was done.

Which, as you can imagine… was basically never.

The Challenge that’s Changing Things

This year, something shifted.

Madde suggested we all set a reading goal.
Three books a month for me.

On the surface, this is not exactly groundbreaking. I already love to read.

But what changed was when I allowed myself to do it.

Instead of scrolling on my phone in those odd pockets of time—waiting rooms, plane rides, the in-between moments of the day—I started reading.

And something surprising happened.

I felt happier.

Not in some dramatic, life-altering way.
But in a quiet, steady, almost sneaky way.

Like I had given myself access to something I didn’t realize I had been withholding.

Why the Delayed Gratification?

And it made me wonder…

How many of us are doing this?

Delaying the very things that bring us joy.
Treating pleasure like a reward instead of a way of living.

We don’t just postpone pleasure.
We learn to distrust it.

We tell ourselves:

• I’ll relax when everything is done

• I’ll enjoy myself later

• I’ll take time for me… eventually

But “eventually” has a way of never arriving.

Just Do It!

There is something oddly rebellious about reading in the middle of the day.

It feels like breaking a rule you didn’t even realize you were still following.

And maybe that’s why it matters.

Because it’s not really about the book.

It’s about choosing yourself… in a small, almost invisible way.

Between the Covers

For the record, I’m not reading philosophy or anything overly intellectual.

I love a good historical murder mystery—something that drops me into another time and place.

Recently, I read The Murder in the Ruins by Clay Rademacher, set in Hamburg in 1947. It was so vivid I practically needed another sweater just to get through it.

I’m currently reading The Beauty in Breaking by Michele Harper, which is a completely different experience—raw, human, and deeply reflective.

I have a strange love for colorful vocabulary (thank you, Vocabulary for the College Bound Student… and Sister Rita, who still flashes through my mind every time I come across a word I recognize from that book).

(And yes… I judge authors who overuse phrases. How many times can a phrase be used in the same book, like “flotsam and jetsam?” [Jess Kidd in Murder at Gulls Nest]. Some words deserve to be used sparingly.)

Boundaries are Necessary

I am particular about what I read. I noticed something else about myself.

I don’t like being told what to read.

I used to be in a book group, and every month I would resist the assigned book until the very last minute.

Because it felt like work.

And I have enough work.

I want to choose what I immerse myself in.
I want to choose the voices I let into my head.

Because the truth is… we become what we surround ourselves with.

I’ve always said you become like the five people you spend the most time with. (Ask my kids… they will tell you I always say that.)

I think books count too.

The characters we spend time with…
The worlds we step into…
The energy we absorb…

It all shapes us.

Which is why I avoid anything too dark or violent.
Those images don’t just disappear. They linger.

And at this stage of life, I am much more intentional about what I let live in my mind.

Reality is intense enough.
I don’t need to add more darkness to it.

New Rules

So now I read.

In the middle of the day.
Without earning it first.
Without waiting for everything else to be done.

And it feels… different.

Lighter.
More alive.
More like I am actually living my life instead of managing it.

You may also enjoy reading my story about desire:

What about YOU?

So here’s what I’m wondering…

What is one small pleasure you’ve been postponing?

Not the big, life-changing thing.
Just the quiet one.

The thing you tell yourself you’ll get to… later.

And what would happen if you stopped waiting?

Libraries are one of my joy places…

Maybe it’s reading.

Maybe it’s something else entirely.

But maybe… just maybe…

This is the part of life where we stop earning our joy
and start allowing it.

The Tarot Pull

Three of Swords

Sometimes I pull a card and think, “Oh–this is so PERFECT!”

Other times, I pull a card and think, “What?”

Today I pulled the three of swords to go with this blog.

I sat wondering what the message is here.

The three of swords is about heartbreak, sorrow, and grief, all nestled in truth. And the truth can hurt, and it also sets you free.

And that is what I gather the meaning to be here.

Because for me, to deny myself reading because I feel guilty follows the old pattern of denying small joys, believing that pleasure has to be earned, that work comes first, and pleasure is delayed…

It’s a story of self-abandonment.

As women, we go last, get the leftovers.

Joy must be justified.

Today, this card is showing us this truth, and it’s waking us up to this habit.

It’s telling us it’s time to change. That we are actually guilty of delaying or denying ourselves this pleasure.

The shift is: start with dessert. Who the hell cares?

Stop denying yourself pleasure.

Enjoy all the moments of your life.

Not just those few scraps at the end of the day, once the kitchen is cleaned and the dog has been walked, and you get to take a breath.

Make your pleasure a priority.

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They end because, over time…two people slowly stop meeting each other.

Divorce happens when people don’t want the next 20-30 years to be like the last. It is painful, expensive, and greatly impacts the entire family, not just the husband and wife.

What if you still love your wife, but yearn for the excitement that led you to get married in the first place? What do you do?

Here are some strategies to re-ignite that old flame.

Garden Your Relationship

First of all, realize that after 20 years, the connection doesn’t just disappear. It has stopped being tended to. Probably a long time ago. Relationships are like a garden. They require constant care. When you forget to water it, it dries up. You stop being the top priority for each.

The change usually begins when you have kids. Then everything shifts. Hormones, bodies, attention span, and so much more. The kids become your wife’s priority.

At first, my husband and I had the prescribed weekly date night. But he traveled a lot, was tired, and just wanted to stay home… so those faded away. Then he wanted to go out with the kids because he hadn’t spent as much time with them as I did. So we had family adventures. Those didn’t fuel our relationship.

Bridge the Distance

The message here is– you’re probably not the only one feeling the distance. If you feel lonely, I bet hands down she does too. So what do you do?

What I needed from my husband and never got was recognition, acknowledgement, and witnessing. No one ever says, “Hey! Thanks for always having clean socks in my drawer for me!” Or “Thanks for picking up the dry cleaning!” Just taking a moment to acknowledge what she’s done, and been doing for years that no one sees. Even just having milk in the frig for breakfast takes remembering and buying it. The more you witness her, and appreciate all she does the more she will feel seen and in turn will mirror that back to you. Then, you will both feel seen and heard.

Create Romantic Moments

What if you feel like romance has been missing in your marriage for a long time? Remember– Romance doesn’t return on its own— you have to reintroduce it. Romance isn’t about grand gestures—it’s about intentional attention.

What would you do if you were romancing someone new? Maybe send flowers? Plan a nice dinner date where you don’t wear jeans? Send a card to say you’re thinking of her? Maybe plan a weekend away? Small little actions can reap big rewards here. Think about what you did in the beginning to get her to fall in love with you!

Deep Conversations

One thing that draws people into relationships are deep conversations. Taking the time to talk about how you feel, being vulnerable, opening up. These kinds of conversations are important for a long term relationship. You guys aren’t co-managers of the household or logistic partners. You are committed life partners and the element of vulnerability is the difference. You go DEEP.

To do this, you start. Open up. Tell your wife how you feel. You might start by saying you love her and are committed to her and you really want to work on the relationship together. Tell her exactly how you are feeling.

You might catch her off guard if you’ve never done this before, so proceed with care.

The Cost of Routine

One of the things that kills romance is routine. When you are in your routine, you’re on automatic pilot– executing… not FEELING. To revive excitement, introduce novelty. I’m not saying plan to go sky diving together, but you might! Start by making plans for the weekend. Do it on Monday, so you both have something to look forward to. Maybe it’s a picnic or a trip to the museum to see a new exhibit, or reservations to a new restaurant that’s opened… something fun and exciting to look forward to. You can ask her what she’s going to wear so she can start to think about it. Make it a nice event. Do this on repeat so you build excitement into your relationship.

Remember: She’s a Woman

Take the time to let your wife know you see her as a woman. Maybe ask her, “What’s something you’ve been thinking about that you haven’t said aloud?” or “What’s been on your mind lately that has nothing to do with the kids or the house?”

The Benefits of Anticipation

Think about how you can build up anticipation. This was definitely missing from my relationship. I tried to convince my husband that we should plan intimacy for Friday nights, but his response was that intimacy can’t be planned.

Well, that is just wrong. You can plan intimacy. Having the time and space to focus on each other. Not making other commitments because you know that evening or afternoon is special. Preparing for the time…

The Beginning of Intimacy

Remember this critical key: Intimacy starts long before the bedroom. It’s how you hold her hand when you’re walking, or touch her arm as you walk by, or look into her eyes when she’s talking to you.

Don’t expect to “just do it.” Plan romance and quality time together. The build-up of tension and something to look forward to is exciting when you plan all week and talk about it ahead of time.

One thing I wish my husband knew was the importance of touch without expectation. This is huge and I don’t think it is often talked about. When touch always leads to sex, touch disappears. (READ THAT AGAIN.) Touch itself is so sensual, but when it comes with the knowledge that penetration is next, it distracts from the beauty of the touch.

An evening when one person is focused on and gets touched all over by the partner is very sensual. Then on another night, change places. And set the boundary beforehand that the outcome is not sex. It’s touching tenderly. To reconnect.

The problem for me is that sex was painful after menopause. Since my divorce, I learned that I didn’t have to experience that. I found solutions. Make sure your partner is not suffering and that the experience is positive for everyone.

My husband always said, “men need a place, women need a reason.” He should have taken his own advice. Women are in their heads and sex isn’t just a head game. If your partner is lying there waiting for it to be over, something definitely has to change. You have to help her turn her head off and be in her body and feel her body. Talk about this in advance… put all the cards on the table. Together, you are a team.

Venting vs. Fixing

Also, since I have your attention here men, let me tell you one other critically important point. Men are hardwired to fix things. Your wife comes with a problem, and you try to fix it. What you are telling her is that she is incapable of doing it herself. Here’s the thing: sometimes women just need to VENT. She just needs you to listen, to witness her. To support her. You don’t have to be logical or find a solution unless that is what she is asking for. So when your wife comes to you, ask her, “Do you want me to listen or help solve? Are you venting or looking for solutions?”

That alone will save you so much tension!

The woman you fell in love with is still there. She didn’t disappear. She didn’t stop loving you.

She just stopped feeling met. And the truth is… she’s probably waiting. Not for perfection. Not for grand gestures. But for you to see her again. And she is probably eager to be seen.

Go make some plans, play her favorite song, dance in the kitchen… Remember the fun moments.

Reconnect.

All I can tell you is—it’s worth it! You are worth it. She is worth it. Go at it! Rekindle your passion.

Worth reading:

Tarot Pull

10 of Pentacles Reversed

The energy of this blog really comes through this tarot card, which I drew randomly from my deck.

The 10 of Pentacles right side up is all about long-term stability, family legacy, security, and the life we built together.

In reverse, it asks: at what cost?

It reveals that everything looks good on paper, there is a functioning household, financial security/success, but underneath, there’s emotional discontent, a lack of intimacy, and feeling like roommates.

So that’s what happens when the romance fades, passion is gone, and you stop seeing each other.

So reread the blog, and take action. Put the steps into practice.

If you would like more posts like this, comment below.

Leave a comment

Intimate conversations for women 50+ going through a big life transition (empty nest, divorce, widow, retirement, etc.) reawaken their desire for intimacy, create a new identity, and overcome generational trauma—paired with exercises, affirmations, and weekly Tarot card readings.

Hey there,

Welcome to Boudoir Banter.

If you’re here, something in your life has shifted.

Maybe not loudly.
Maybe not in a way anyone else can see.

But you feel it.

In the quiet moments.
Early morning. Late at night.
Sitting in your car before you go inside.

Something is different.

And the questions have started to creep in:

• Is this it?

• When did I stop feeling like myself?

• What do I actually want now?

• And why is that so hard to answer?

Let me say this clearly:

Nothing is wrong with you.

But something in you has been quiet for a long time.

This isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about coming back to the parts of you that got put away.

Who Is Boudoir Banter For?

This is for women 50+ standing in a moment that doesn’t have a clear name.

But it feels like an ending.
And a beginning.
At the same time.

💔 Women navigating endings

The marriage that looked fine from the outside… but felt empty from within.

The relationship you stayed in longer than you should have — because leaving felt harder than staying.

Or the loss that changed everything, and no one really knows how to talk to you about it anymore.

🏡 Women in life transition

The kids are gone.
The career is slowing down — or already behind you.

And suddenly, no one is asking anything from you the way they used to.

Which sounds freeing…

Until you realize you don’t know what to ask of yourself.

🔥 Women who feel something stirring again

A flicker of desire.
A pull toward something more.
A quiet voice saying, there is more life here than this.

And almost immediately:

You question it.
Shut it down.
Tell yourself it’s too late, too complicated, or not worth disrupting your life.

If any part of you feels like it has been muted, managed, or pushed aside…

You’re not imagining it.

The Things No One Says Out Loud

Most women don’t talk about this stage of life honestly.

So let’s. Here are the problems as I see it:

Problem #1: You move through your day… and nothing really lands

Not joy. Not excitement. Not even sadness the way it used to.

Just… neutral.

You get through the day. You check the boxes.

But you don’t feel much of it. You are completely numb.

Problem #2: You don’t actually know what you want anymore

You’ve spent years — decades — being who other people needed you to be: daughter, wife, mother, partner, caretaker…

So when you ask yourself, What do I want?

There’s a long pause.

Problem #3: Your desire didn’t disappear — it just went dormant…

I don’t know about you, but after I gave birth to my twins, and then another baby a bit later… my body felt haggard… I didn’t want to be touched AT ALL. To say nothing of the extreme exhaustion I felt…

And slowly, my husband and I drifted apart… no more date nights… no more twosome vacations… no more kind words… just daily details…

And then, after 30 years, we divorced.

I realized I wasn’t done with sex and intimacy at all. I needed an awakening. And that is what I’m experiencing.

To feel desire awakening is a wonderful thing. And then I ask… now what?

You wonder:

• Is this real?

• Is this appropriate?

• What would I even do with this?

Problem #4: You feel alone in a way that’s hard to explain

You can be surrounded by people…

And still feel like no one really sees you anymore.

It’s the Invisibility Syndrome that’s overtaken the Imposter Syndrome.

Problem #5: You want more — and immediately judge yourself for it

More connection.
More aliveness.
More truth.

And then the voice comes in:

Shouldn’t I just be grateful?

Problem #6: You live in your head instead of your body

You think about everything.

Analyze. Rationalize. Minimize.

But you don’t actually feel very much.

You are not at all in your body.

Problem #7: You realize how long parts of you have been gone

And you don’t know whether to feel sad…

Or angry.

Problem #8: You don’t have a map for this version of life

There was a script for everything before this.

Now?

You’re on your own.

Problem #9: You keep defaulting to the life you already know

Not because it fulfills you.

But because it’s familiar.

Comfort is easier than the unknown.

Problem #10: You’re trying to figure all of this out alone

Because where do you even go to talk about this… honestly?

Who wants to hear that sex is painful, that you yearn for closeness, that you want to be seen, heard, understood, cared for?

What You’ll Find Here (Every Week)

This is not a place for surface-level advice.

This is where we tell the truth.

The Conversations You Haven’t Been Having

About desire that didn’t disappear — it just didn’t feel safe to exist.

About relationships that looked fine… but felt empty.

About the moment you realized:

I don’t want to live on this shallow level anymore.

Reflections That Actually Change Something

Not just ideas.

But questions that stop you.

Sit with you.

And slowly start to shift how you see your life — and yourself.

A Return to Your Body

Because this isn’t just about thinking differently.

It’s about feeling again.

• noticing what you’ve been numbing

• reconnecting with sensation

• allowing yourself to experience pleasure without immediately shutting it down

A Different Kind of Forward

Not starting over.

Not blowing up your life overnight.

But beginning to make small, honest choices that reflect who you are now — not who you’ve been.

Who Am I?

I’m Alicia.

And I didn’t get here because I had it all figured out.

I got here because something in me stopped working the way it used to.

For a long time, I moved through life doing what was expected.

Showing up. Holding it together. Being who I was supposed to be.

And quietly…

Parts of me went offline.

My body.
My desire.
My sense of aliveness.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was gradual.

Until one day I realized:

I didn’t want to keep living like that.

For a long time, I thought something in me had disappeared.

What I realized was…

It hadn’t disappeared.

It just didn’t feel safe to exist where I was.

What followed wasn’t a reinvention.

It was a return.

And I’m still in it.

Boudoir Banter exists because I know I’m not the only one.

Where To Start

As this space grows, I’ll share the pieces that seem to land the deepest — the ones women send to each other and say:

“Read this. This is exactly what I was trying to explain.”

Here is how a bright woman slowly gave up control over her life and how to regain it.

How to overcome the negative voice in your head.

Learning to make decisions after years of being shut down.

Overcoming fear to live your best life.

If You’re Still Reading This…

Then something in you already knows.

You don’t need to have a plan.

You don’t need to know what comes next.

But you do need to stop ignoring that quiet voice that keeps saying:

There’s more here.

👉 Subscribe to Boudoir Banter and step into a space where you don’t have to pretend everything is fine.

And if there’s a woman in your life who has been holding it all together for far too long…

Send this to her.

She’ll understand.

Transitions

Life transitions are brutal.

• Child birth

• Moving

• Empty nest

• Losing your parents

• Divorce …

As you are going through these challenging times, people try to console you and tell you, “everything will be alright. This will make you stronger. You will be a better person for it…”

And you just want to scream, “I don’t WANT to be stronger… I want this to STOP.”

Hormesis

There’s a concept called hormesis — small stresses build resilience.

Cold exposure. Fasting. Resistance training.
Stress the system… it adapts.

But life doesn’t always give us small stress.

Child Birth

Childbirth is, of course, not a small stressor. It is overwhelming… All-consuming… It pushes you WAY beyond what you ever thought you could handle.

And yet… you find your way through it.

Not because it isn’t painful.

But because something in us knows how to stay with it.

That is building our capacity, not just our strength.

Divorce

Divorce doesn’t just change your life.

It dismantles it.

The routines. The identity. The assumptions of what your life was supposed to be like.

And suddenly… you’re standing in the middle of something you don’t recognize.

Including yourself.

Finding the Strength

What do you do in the moment when it’s too much?

Not philosophical.

Not someday.

Right then.

I breathe.

Not because breathing fixes anything.

But because it gives me something to hold on to.

Inhale.

Long Exhale.

Again.

And again.

Until my body settles…

even if my life hasn’t.

What’s Actually Happening

Most of what we do isn’t conscious.
Our bodies are constantly regulating us — through breath, through shifts we barely notice.

The difference is… we can choose to participate in that.

A deep sigh

A deep sigh isn’t just a reaction.
It’s a release.

Your body already knows how to do this.

The question is: will you let it?

Where’s the control?

We don’t control what life brings.

But in the middle of it — in the exact moment when everything feels like too much —

we have this.

Our breath.

Not to escape what’s happening…

But to stay with it…

long enough

to get through.

You might find this publication helpful:

Tarot Pull

When I pulled a tarot card for this piece, The Hierophant came up — the teacher, the keeper of tradition, the voice of “this is how it’s supposed to be done.”

And it made me think about all the things we’ve been told about pain… about strength… about how we’re supposed to handle life’s hardest moments.

But in the middle of it — when it’s actually happening — none of those words help.

What helps is something much simpler.

Something older.

The breath.

The Hierophant says: this will make you stronger.

My body says: just breathe.

And right now, I trust my body more.

The Real Secret About Paris

There is something about Paris… many people feel it. The deep desire to go there, to be there…

What is it about Paris that gives it such a magnetic ability to draw people in…? Is it looking at the Eiffel Tower?

Cruising on the Seine?

Drinking tiny coffees in sidewalk cafes?

Or is it hearing the beautiful language spoken in whispers, seeing the magnificent displays of seafood outside the restaurants, smelling the baguettes baking all day long, savoring the flaky croissants?

There is a mystery about Paris that is hard to explain, that all sorts of people find enticing… even irresistible.

But the truth is: Paris isn’t magical.

People are simply awake there -– experiencing their lives. They take the time to be present.

When we go there, we hope for a similar connection to Paris's energy.

But we experience only the surface layer as tourists on double-decker buses, with a drive-by of major tourist destinations.

The real joy is found on the ground, in the mundane details of life:

Listening to the crisp crust of the baguette crack as you split the loaf…seeing the glistening salt buried in the butter as you spread it on…feeling the dry crust on your tongue as you take your first bite.

No one is thinking about the calories… the impact on their hips, how many reps they will have to do to work off this delight. No. They are enjoying the sensual pleasure of the experience.

Do Americans get the same sensual pleasure listening to the bowl of Rice Krispies snap, crackle, and pop?

When We Disconnect

For years, I was living a sensory-deprived life. I didn’t lose my sense of taste or smell as a side effect of COVID. I lost it because my desires had been shoved into a dark corner of my body, shut away from feeling.

When the body shuts down to survive emotional pain, it shuts down everything – taste, touch, desire, joy… life moves from living color to black and white. When you live in survival mode long enough, the body numbs itself. Not just to pain, but to pleasure.

Sensory pleasures are what add dimensionality to life. Walking along Crissy Field and witnessing the Golden Gate Bridge against the clear blue sky… stepping into the San Francisco Bay and feeling the water as pin pricks on my skin waking up my senses… the first sips of coffee in the morning NOT out of a Starbucks cup, but out of a cup and saucer with freshly brewed coffee.

Life is here for the living if only we take the time to open our eyes and hearts and souls to experience it… to witness it. Life blossoms in front of us.

Life is not hiding from us.

We are the ones looking away.

For years, I thought my desire had disappeared.

What disappeared was the safety to feel it. With my divorce came a new sense of freedom. Slowly, everything shifted, and my body began to respond on a new level. But actually, it was the old me coming out again, feeling safe, responding to the new level of freedom and security I felt.

Life offers us many opportunities to grow and expand. The problem is that our brains prefer familiarity and comfort over growth. Even painful familiarity.

Breaking out of old patterns is hard, hard, hard. Even the very first step is challenging: recognizing the pattern. Awareness is difficult with those blinders on.

Step on the Dance Floor

Life is calling to you. This is not the time to be sitting in the stands. This is the time to be in the arena participating. Get off the tour bus and walk the streets. Experience life in the doing, not the observing. Be in the mix.

Sometimes at salsa class, I stand by the sidelines and watch the expert dancers move on the floor. I try to embody their movements in my mind. But it is only when I am dancing that I can try to make those moves, to feel those moves in my body. No amount of watching can make up for the experience of being on the floor, even if I do make many mistakes. The mistakes come from trying new steps and pushing outside my comfort zone. The mistakes come with the learning. If you never make mistakes, you never grow.

Watching the dancers never made me better.
Only stepping onto the floor did.

Life works the same way.

Tarot Pull

Six of Pentacles

The Tarot card I pulled to go with this article is the six of Pentacles. It goes surprisingly well. This card is about restoring balance and allowing energy to flow again after the deprivation of the five of Pentacles.

For years, my senses had been shut down in survival mode. Reawakening meant learning to give and receive life again — through taste, touch, movement, and joy. Life is about fully giving and receiving which this card reflects.

I see them every Tuesday morning at 9 a.m. when I teach water aerobics at the Presidio Pool. I recently got the class again, and I’m thrilled about it. It might seem like a small thing to get excited about… but I am.

From the deck, it’s easy to see the two groups.

On the right side are the people who show up.
They hang out in the water and chat with each other. They move a little, go through the motions, enjoy the social time.

On the left side are the ones who came to work.

They listen. They focus. They follow the moves. They push themselves.

They play full out.

Both groups showed up.
But they are having completely different experiences.

And here’s the interesting thing.

Is it Conscious? Or is it The Drift?

Almost no one consciously decides which side of the pool to stand on.

They drift there.

Someone they know is talking on the right side, so they slide over. It feels easier. More comfortable. More social.

But comfort has a funny way of shaping your life.

Because your environment—and the people around you—quietly influence how you show up.

You become more like the people you spend time with.

Think about the people you are around most.

Are they people who set the bar high for themselves?
People who show up fully and give their best?
People who inspire you to rise to your own potential?

Or are they people who are mostly going through the motions?

This life we have isn’t a dress rehearsal.

You might think no one is paying attention. Everyone is busy living their own lives.

But people notice.

They notice the energy you bring.
They notice how you show up for yourself.

It Becomes Your Habit

And over time, your habits shape the person you become.

That can be a hard question to sit with:

Are the habits you’re living reflecting the person you want to be?

Because how you show up reflects something deeper: your identity.

The internal beliefs you carry about yourself quietly guide your behavior.

And when life changes—when kids leave home, when relationships shift, when careers evolve—we suddenly have the opportunity to recreate that identity.

Sometimes it begins with a small internal decision.

The Choice Point # 1

Diana Vreeland, the editor-in-chief of Vogue from 1963 to 1971, once talked about making a conscious decision in high school about how she wanted to be perceived.

She had been shy and withdrawn. But she decided to become fashionable and confident.

She changed the way she presented herself first.

And eventually, the world responded to that identity.

Choice Point # 2

I experienced a small version of that shift last week.

I was walking to salsa class, and the usual thoughts crept in.

Will anyone ask me to dance?
What if I’m just sitting there?

Then I changed the dialogue in my head.

I repeated it to myself as I walked in.

Instead of sitting alone waiting for class to start, I smiled at a man at the bar I had danced with before and joined him. He introduced me to the woman he was with. We laughed because the women rarely meet each other!

As more people arrived, I met them too.

The whole night was different.

Later, those same people asked me to dance. They helped me learn a complicated move we were practicing. I felt relaxed, connected, part of the group.

It all began with one small shift in how I saw myself.

“I belong here.”

Shift The Conversation in Your Head

The conversation in your head influences how you show up in the world.

And how you show up changes the environments and people that surround you.

When I show up at the pool, I’m there to give my best effort. I’m going to stand with the people who are working hard, focused, and fully engaged.

Because if you’re going to show up anyway…

Why not bring your heart and soul with you?

Why not show up fully as the best version of yourself?

Be intentional.

It will change everything.

Tomorrow, when you walk into your own life, ask yourself one simple question:

Which side of the pool am I standing on?

Tarot Pull

Nine of Pentacles

I pulled the Nine of Pentacles to go with this article. It is so perfect.

It’s the card of a woman standing confidently in the life she has cultivated for herself.

She knows where she belongs.

She doesn’t drift to the right side of the pool.

You don’t wait for the environment to validate you. You choose your environment that reflects who you are. You respect your own potential. You show up fully. You claim your space. You consciously design your life.

Embody the woman from the Nine of Pentacles. Be all you can be.

My goals for this year include finishing my divorce, remodelling my house… and having great sex.

Only one of those comes with no instructions.

When I was younger, goals were easy. I knew what I wanted to achieve and I established a path to get there. Metrics, deadlines, accountability.

But at 67, my goals are a bit “fuzzy.”

I mean I have some specific ones: complete my divorce, remodel my house, have great sex… but how do I break all that down into what to do TODAY, this week, this month?

So much of what I want to achieve is dependent upon what others are doing… my ex, the designer, the vibrator…

It left me in a quandary.

I don’t have clear steps or control over what I want to achieve. I feel a lack of agency. Time to shift that.

My overall goal is to live with intention. I want to make decisions and direct my life in my way.

I ask the question,

“what is possible?”

And I get stuck. What is possible? How can I move my life forward with intention?

I know the PROCESS: Take baby steps. Do the things you can control. Celebrate small wins.

I can figure out the divorce and the remodel.

But the great sex part… harumph. No one prepares women for this part of aging.

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Lack of Role Models

My mom got divorced at 45 and that was the end of men for her, so she wasn’t a great role model.

I grew up with aging spinster aunts, so they weren’t the best role models.

I remember Mary Taylor Moore was the role model for single women living on their own with a career in the 70s. That was a huge shake up.

And the TV show, One Day at a Time, for the divorced mom with kids.

But where do I turn for great role models for sex after 60?

I am reading the book, A French Woman’s Guide to Sex After 60, by Marie de Hennezel, as a way to open my mind to new ideas.

At first, I was greatly discouraged. She said the sex at 60 will never compare to what it was at 40. Crap.

My 40s involved 5 rounds of invitro… then I twins… then 3 kids under the age of three… then colon cancer… My husband traveled relentlessly…he was managing his crazy work AND a total remodel of our home. We were both exhausted ALL-THE-TIME.

Sex in our 40s? Ha! If that’s the best I’m going to get… I’m doomed…

Marie went on to say that 70% of people give up on sex after 60. OK. That is not putting me in a better mood.

Let’s just assume I am in the other 30%... (for the sake of my sanity…).

Her prognosis is that “sex” has given away to “intimacy” which happens by design.

Reframing Sex

The good news is, intimacy is something new in my life and I am really enjoying it. What I like is that it’s open to interpretation and can lead to different places.

Adding the overlay of INTENTION lights me up. I can plan small moves and see how it goes.

The words that come to mind regarding sex in the past are: performance, obligation, validation-seeking…

Now with intimacy, it feels more like: connection, expression, pleasure, play, vitality…

Since I am in this new phase of life, I can release the old scripts and patterns and create a scenario that is good for me and hence good for my partner.

All the old baggage is dissolving to make room for creativity, freedom of expression, and frankly, a new identity for me.

Most of all, I know I have to consciously create what I want in this area of my life and it can’t depend on other people miraculously showing up.

What Intentionality Looks Like

To be happy in this area of my life requires me to be curious both for myself and my partner. And it all starts with me and self-connection.

Self-connection isn’t my strong point. Years of Catholic guilt drilled into me certain boundaries around my body. Like the “no-touch” zone. And it’s taken me years to be able to voice my actual desires. To advance here, I have to push existing boundaries out and grow comfortable with my body.

The next area of development for me is communication. I have learned that on the whole, men are not great mind readers no matter how loud I am shouting inside my head.To be able to voice what I want/desire outloud–not just in my own head– would be a major step forward.

To be able to verbalize my desires out loud is feasible when I feel I am in a safe environment. And working with a partner who is open to communication helps.

What has been fun is creating an environment where intimacy can develop. Living in a house with 3 adult kids and a dog who sleeps in my bed with me does put some dampers on the situation. It’s nothing I can’t manage. Add in some juicy music, candles, and no time constraints that support relaxation and arousal are key steps. And I think with the mindset that encourages experimentation and curiosity, there is great potential.

I think the more intentional I am, the more my confidence will improve and I will be able to overcome old, negative stories that are lurking in the back of my mind like:

• My body isn’t attractive anymore… (those extra chins and sagging cheeks aren’t building my confidence.)

• Sex isn’t important now (because it is to me!)

• It’s too late to change (old dog, new tricks!)

• I should be grateful for what I have (Yes, all this energy that needs direction!)

• Desire is embarrassing at this age…

Before, among those young bucks, hormones were the driver. And possibly availability, external validation, and cultural momentum.

Now I have something deeper that is driving me— the desire for emotional intimacy, learning about new aspects of myself, understanding my own desires, building my confidence in this area while not having to worry about performance, and having quality time instead of frequency.

What Intentionality Looks Like

What I am doing is out of choice. It has to do with figuring out what kind of experience I want now, what is nourishing me versus draining my energy, what pace feels right, and what tone do I want? Do I want to be playful or passionate, or adventurous, or tender…?

It’s time I turn the focus onto myself and what I truly desire and I can do this with intention.

I start with small micro goals…

Taking the time to put on moisture lotion on my legs… a bit of self-care I tend to ignore. But doing so smells goods and is a sensual pleasure. Adding fresh flowers to my desk and bedroom adds joy to my day.

Putting on clothes that I feel good in builds my confidence.

There are so many small steps we can take that create a warm, pleasing environment for ourselves and others so we can actively design the conditions we want instead of waiting for them to miraculously happen by some fate outside of ourselves.

And all of this leads to you becoming more empowered and taking agency to become fully yourself.

No one is going to hand you a roadmap for intimacy at this age.

But perhaps that is the gift.

For the first time, we are free to create it ourselves —
not out of obligation, not out of performance,
but out of desire.

And desire, it turns out, does not retire.

It waits for intention.

Not because you failed.

Because you succeeded.

I did everything right.

Stable marriage. Responsible choices. Children raised. Community served. I became the woman people describe with admiration: dependable, steady, selfless.

From the outside, my life looked solid.

Inside, something was quietly shrinking.

There was no dramatic unhappiness. No scandal. No implosion.

Just a growing awareness that I was living a life that worked — but wasn’t entirely mine.

I had become exceptionally skilled at being needed.

If you had asked me who I was, I would have listed my roles. Wife. Mother. Organizer. The one who handles it. The one who smooths it over. The one who absorbs the impact.

I was proud of that woman.

But I didn’t realize how much of her identity depended on being indispensable.

Then the scaffolding disappeared.

My children left for college.
My husband retired.
We moved.
And eventually, my marriage ended.

The structure that had organized my days — and justified my usefulness — dissolved.

I wasn’t just losing a relationship.

I was losing the identity that relationship required.

And beneath the grief was something more destabilizing:

If I am no longer essential to everyone else… who am I?

And more quietly:

If I am not needed… am I still loved?

For years, usefulness had been my currency of belonging.

I was valued for how much I could carry.
For how little I required.
For how smoothly I kept everything running.

And that strategy worked.

It built a good life.

It also cost me something I didn’t know I was trading away.

When the structure fell, I began to see how automatic I had become.

I said yes before I checked in with myself.
I avoided conflict even when it meant betraying my own opinion.
I prioritized harmony over honesty.
I minimized my desires before anyone could dismiss them.

Not because I was weak.

Because I had trained my nervous system to equate safety with agreeability.

One afternoon a friend asked me to take on something I didn’t have the bandwidth for. I heard myself begin to say yes — reflexively.

And then I paused.

My chest tightened. My throat felt dry.

“I can’t,” I said.

She looked surprised. Slightly disappointed.

Nothing catastrophic happened.

But something seismic shifted inside me.

For the first time, I chose truth over approval.

That was the beginning.

I realized nothing was wrong with my life.

It had simply stopped fitting the woman I was becoming.

Part of me wanted to rebuild the familiar structure — to become indispensable again. To slip back into the comfort of being the strong one, the stable one, the needed one.

But I could feel the cost now.

Staying the same would mean abandoning myself in quieter, more sophisticated ways.

And here is the part we don’t talk about:

When you stop being endlessly reliable, some people get uncomfortable.

When you stop anticipating everyone else’s needs, they notice.

When you no longer define yourself by usefulness, you disrupt the ecosystem.

Growth is not neutral.

It rearranges relationships.

I began asking a different question.

Not “What should I do?”
Not “What will keep things smooth?”

But: “What is true for me — even if it disappoints someone?”

Some choices were small.
Some were uncomfortable.
Some changed dynamics permanently.

I grieved the woman I had been. She wasn’t wrong. She was doing her best with the blueprint she inherited.

But she was not the final version of me.

I started meeting other women in similar transitions — after divorce, after children left home, after careers ended, after health scares. Women who had done everything right and were privately wondering why they felt invisible inside their own success.

This isn’t failure.

It’s not ingratitude.

It’s not instability.

It’s what happens when you try to enter a new chapter with an identity built for the previous one.

Outgrowing your life is not a crisis.

It’s a reckoning.

It asks:

Are you willing to be less needed in order to be more alive?

Are you willing to disappoint others so you stop disappointing yourself?

Are you willing to let go of the praise attached to who you were?

Not everyone will celebrate your evolution.

Some roles will fall away.

The old version of you will always be tempting — she is efficient, admired, safe.

But there comes a point when maintaining who you’ve been requires more self-abandonment than becoming who you are.

That’s the threshold.

And crossing it changes everything.

If you can stand behind that publicly, this piece becomes not just reflective — but catalytic.

Another article you may enjoy:

Tarot Pull

Seven of Wands Reversed

Upright, Seven of Wands is:
Defensiveness. Holding your ground. Protecting your position. Fighting off challengers. “I have to prove I belong here.”

Reversed the energy shifts.

It asks:

• Why are you still fighting?

• What are you defending?

• Who told you this was a battlefield?

You built an identity about being useful and now that is shifting, but your nervous system hasn’t gotten the message yet.

Time to reevaluate.

He was twenty years younger than me. And somehow, he saw something I didn’t.

I wasn’t looking at my shoes because I liked them.
I was looking down because I didn’t feel like I belonged.

I felt new. Exposed. Slightly fraudulent. Like everyone else knew more than I did.

But that day, I tried something. I lifted my chin. Rolled my shoulders back. I walked as if I knew exactly what I was doing.

Nothing catastrophic happened.
No one laughed.
No one called me out.

And something subtle shifted.

I realized confidence isn’t always a feeling.

Sometimes it’s rehearsal.

Decades later, I still hear that voice when I catch myself shrinking.

Walk like the woman who already knows.

The Real Reason Reinvention Feels So Hard

When women enter midlife — after decades of marriage, caregiving, partnership, or stability — they often think their struggle is about confidence.

It isn’t.

It’s about prediction.

The brain is not passively waiting for life to unfold.
It is constantly predicting what will happen next.

In neuroscience and psychology, this is called predictive processing.

Your brain asks:

• What kind of person am I in this situation?

• What usually happens to someone like me?

• What should I prepare for?

And then your nervous system responds as if that prediction is already forming.

Tight chest?
That’s a prediction of rejection.

Urgency?
A prediction of loss.

Withdrawal?
A prediction of failure.

Most people think they are reacting to circumstances.

But they are reacting to predictions based on current identity.

The Cultural Pattern No One Is Naming

Here is what I see repeatedly in women over 50:

They are not lacking ambition.
They are not lacking intelligence.
They are not lacking capability.

The problem is they are running outdated predictive models.

Models built for:

• Keeping the peace

• Maintaining stability

• Preserving belonging

• Avoiding relational risk

For decades, those models worked.

They kept marriages intact.
Families steady.
Communities harmonious.

But midlife reinvention requires something different.

It requires updating the internal model.

And your brain does not update through inspiration.

It updates through evidence.

Your Future-Self Is a Neurological Process

Prospection is the brain’s ability to imagine and emotionally simulate possible futures.

But here’s the key:

The future you imagine is not neutral.

It is filtered through past emotional memory, identity beliefs, and repetition.

Which means:

If your identity says, “When I shine, I get judged,”
your brain will predict judgment before you ever speak.

If your identity says, “When I lead, I risk rejection,”
your nervous system will contract before you ever try.

Your future self is not created by willpower.

She is created by updating your brain’s internal model of who you are.

That is agency.
That is emotional regulation.
That is identity recalibration.

The Predictive Identity Loop

Here’s the pattern:

1. Identity belief forms (“I don’t belong here.”)

2. Brain predicts threat.

3. Nervous system contracts.

4. Behavior shrinks.

5. Experience confirms identity.

Loop reinforced.

Reinvention requires interrupting that loop.

Not with affirmations.
With embodied evidence.

How To Update Your Predictive Model

If the brain predicts based on past experience, emotional memory, identity, and repetition — then we change the inputs.

Here is the process.

1. Catch the Prediction

Ask: What is my nervous system preparing for right now?

Look for the anticipated outcome, not just the sentence in your head.

Chest tight?
Preparing for rejection.

Pulling back?
Preparing for failure.

This builds metacognition — awareness of the prediction.

2. Label the Old Model

Examples:

• When I trust, I get hurt.

• When I shine, I get judged.

• I have to work hard to earn love.

• I can’t make mistakes here.

This is the algorithm running your system.

You cannot update what you are unaware of.

3. Create Multiple Futures

Instead of:
“They’ll think I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Try:

• I am new and learning.

• There are multiple paths to success.

• I am capable of creative problem-solving.

• This can go well.

The brain relaxes when it sees options.

Threat narrows. Possibility expands.

4. Embody the Updated Model

Ask:
If this worked out, how would my body feel?

Then:
Slow your breathing.
Drop your shoulders.
Lift your chin.
Let your posture signal safety.

Neuroplasticity is state-dependent.
Calm states wire differently than stressed ones.

5. Create Evidence

If your old identity says, “I have to do this alone,”
ask for a small favor.

If it says, “I shouldn’t take up space,”
speak first in the meeting.

If it says, “Emotionally available men aren’t attracted to me,”
be the woman who leaves at the first sign of inconsistency.

Evidence rewires.

Repetition stabilizes.

Prediction shifts.

My Identity Recalibration

My prior identity: Married mom with three kids.

But beneath that was something more subtle:

• Don’t rock the boat.

• Support, don’t lead.

• Be good, not bold.

• Keep the peace.

• Don’t outshine.

That identity kept me safe.

Until it didn’t.

Now my evolving identity is: Woman creating change in the world.

When my chest tightens and I think, “Who am I to do this?”
I recognize it as a prediction.

Old model:
When I shine, I get judged.
When I lead, I risk rejection.

Interrupt.

New model:
I am someone who shows up and does hard things.
I am someone who leads by example.
I am someone who creates change one person at a time.

Then I act.

Over time, my brain gathers new evidence.

Slowly, the prediction shifts.

Now the prediction is:
Of course you’re in the arena.
This is who you are.

Reinvention Is a Nervous System Upgrade

Midlife transformation is not about motivation.

It is about recalibrating the predictive identity loop.

The next time you feel yourself shrinking, don’t argue with the thought.

Ask:

What is my brain predicting?

And then ask:

Who am I becoming here?

Lift your chin.

Update the model.

Rehearse her.

Your future self is not waiting somewhere ahead of you.

She is waiting for your nervous system to believe she is real.

Tarot Pull

Nine of Swords

The Nine of Swords is about shame.

And shame is identity-level threat.

For midlife women, the shame often sounds like:

• “I should have this figured out.”

• “I’m too old to start.”

• “Who do I think I am?”

That is not the truth.
That is predictive identity protecting belonging.

The card is not saying, “You’re doomed.”

It’s saying:
You’re believing the wrong forecast. You are not lacking in confidence, You are running outdated wiring. The Nine of Swords is the visual that goes along with predictive processing. Amazing.

Bwop.
That’s the sound the tennis ball made as it dropped into the metal bucket at the opposite baseline.

I froze.
The teacher had told me if I ever got the ball in that bucket, the lesson would be free.
And against all odds — I did it.

I was gleeful.
Until he said,
“No. That doesn’t count. You didn’t mean to do it. It has to be on purpose.”

There it was:
the after-the-fact rule change.
The quiet message that my win didn’t really count.
A message I would spend years untangling.

The Long Road to a Single Bucket Shot

I was a junior in high school, and I had been trying to learn tennis since age 12.
My earlier teachers had called me:

• spastic

• uncoordinated

• hopeless

But for some reason, I kept coming back.
Maybe because I believed — underneath everything — that I could get better.

I paid for lessons with babysitting money.
$1.50 an hour.
Lessons were $15.
Do the math — that’s a lot of diaper changes to afford one hour of being called spastic.

And I didn’t even live near the courts.
I took a bus for an hour each way on a school night.
I was committed in the way teenagers can be — heart-first, logic later.

The Moment Everything Connected

One afternoon in math class, while Mr. Pace was helping another student, I quietly rehearsed my swing in the air.

I could see the ball.
I could see the court.
I could see my tennis teacher watching.

And something finally clicked.
My brain and my body synced.
The movement made sense.

That afternoon, I hit the ball into the bucket two more times.
Not by luck.
On purpose.

No, I didn’t suddenly qualify for Wimbledon.
But something far more important happened:

I built proof.
Proof that I could do hard things.
Proof that practice rewires ability.
Proof that old beliefs are not fixed facts.

The Real Lesson Wasn’t Tennis

My whole childhood, the story was:
“You’re uncoordinated.”
“You’re not athletic.”
“You’re not good at this.”

And like most kids, I internalized it.
I believed it because the adults said it.
I believed it because it felt true.
I believed it because my brain didn’t yet know it could challenge a belief.

But those bucket shots cracked the story.
Not shattered — cracked.
Enough to let in some new light.

I still hear the old voice every time I play tennis.
Every. Single. Time.
But now I know the truth:

The voice is old.
The belief is outdated.
And I get to choose a new one.

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Beliefs Are Stories — Not Reality

In my coaching work, this is the moment I see most often — the instant someone realizes:

“Wait… this belief I’ve been living inside isn’t actually true.
It’s just something I accepted.”

We live as if our beliefs are facts written in stone.
But the truth is:

They’re stories.
Inherited. Absorbed. Repeated.
And we are allowed to rewrite them.

My old story was binary:
Either you’re coordinated or you’re not.
Either you’re smart or you’re not.
Either you “have it” or you don’t.

But then I learned how top athletes train —
hours and hours of repetition, refinement, and practice.

They weren’t born great.
They built greatness.

And that’s when I understood:
Beliefs can be rebuilt too.

How to Rewrite Your Story (The RecodeNOW Way)

Here’s the process — simple, not easy:

1. Awareness

Notice the old belief.
Name it.
Separate you from the story.

2. Clarity

Define what you want instead.
Be specific.
Picture it vividly.

3. Alignment

Rehearse the new pattern in your mind.
Let your body feel what it’s like to succeed.

(Yes, math class daydreams count.)

4. Action

Take the smallest possible step.
Hit one ball.
Make one decision.
Say one honest yes or no.

5. Integration

Repeat it until it becomes your new normal.

And then?

6. Freedom.

The moment you choose from desire, not from old programming.

This Is How You Change Your Life

Not by bulldozing your past.
Not by condemning your old self.
Not by pretending the negative voice isn’t there.

But by gently, consistently telling it:

“I’ve got this. I’m choosing differently now.”

Beliefs shift slowly, like tectonic plates.
But when they move — everything else does too.

You become the person who takes the shot.
On purpose.
Again and again.
Even when the bucket feels far away.

Because here’s the truth:

You are meant for more than the old story.
And you are capable of rewriting it.
One swing at a time.

— Alicia

If you enjoyed reading this article, check out this post about how we run on outdated codes.

Tarot Pull

Ten of Cups

I love that I pulled this card today. The Ten of Cups is about inner and outer life alignment, emotional wholeness, living life on purpose. Hitting that ball into the bucket didn't change my life, but it changed my belief about what was possible for me. What is the Ten of Cups telling you? What do you need for emotional fulfillment? A single aligned action can heal years of misalignment.

He said, “Do you want sushi on Chestnut or burgers at the Balboa?”

Simple question. Two choices.

And suddenly… nothing.

My brain went blank. My body went numb. I could feel myself slipping into that foggy, familiar nowhere-land.

“Whatever you want is fine,” I said — defaulting, deflecting, disappearing.

He looked at me and said quietly,

“No. You can make a decision. What do you want?”

And there it was: the terrifying question.

The one that shouldn’t be terrifying at all.

I tried to reach for a desire — any desire — and found… nothing. Just a void. A vacuum where my preferences should live.

That’s when it hit me:

This wasn’t indecision.

This was an energy leak.

When I Don’t Decide

I had the power to choose.
I just wasn’t using it.
I was handing it off, like I always have, without even noticing.

I was trained to be the Go-Along Girl.
Flexible. Easy. Accommodating.
“Whatever works for you” was practically a personality.

And as I sat there, paralyzed by sushi vs. burgers, a memory slammed into me:

High school.
A basketball game I desperately wanted to go to.
I had to wait for my friend’s parents to drive us, because mine wouldn’t.
They lingered at dinner, and by the time we arrived, the game was over.

I remember standing outside the gym, the lights shutting off, feeling crushed.
Not because I missed the game —
But because I had wanted something, and it didn’t matter.

That was the beginning of it.
I didn’t stop wanting.
I stopped voicing what I wanted.

Taking the Back Seat

I learned to sit in the back seat of my own life.
Not driving.
Not navigating.
Just going where other people decided.

And I am so F*cking tired of the back seat.

But here’s the catch:
the front seat requires decisions. Lots of them.
And I realized something uncomfortable:

Decision-making is a muscle.
And mine was weak.

So I’ve been training.
One tiny rep at a time.

Saying no when I mean no.
Saying yes when I mean yes.
Saying “burgers” when I want burgers — not because it’s profound, but because it’s mine.

Ignition Point

The moment everything shifts is the ignition point —
that flicker of awareness when you catch yourself slipping into the old code and ask:

“Wait… what do I want?”

Not “What keeps the peace?”
Not “What will make him happy?”
Not “What’s easiest?”

Me.
What do I want?

That’s where the energy leak stops.
That’s where power returns.
That’s where I step back into myself.

This is the real mind-body connection — not some mystical thing, but literally learning to recognize the sensation of alignment in your gut, instead of outsourcing your choices to habit or fear.

It’s not glamorous.
It’s not Instagram-worthy.
It’s not an overnight transformation.

It’s choosing yourself in tiny, almost silly moments… until it starts to feel normal.

And here’s the part that cracks me open: my daughters already know how to do this.
They ask for what they want without apologizing for existing.
They say yes when they mean yes.
They say no with clarity.
They assume they’re worthy.

That’s how I know the generational pattern broke.
This sense of not being worthy, I did not pass down.

Now I ask you:

Where do you feel your own energy leaking?
Where do you hand over your power without even noticing?
Where do you mute your desire because it feels safer than naming it?

Because here’s the truth:

Life isn’t happening to you.
Life responds to the choices you make —
especially the quiet ones.

Move into the driver’s seat.
Even if the gears grind.
Even if you stall.
Even if you don’t know the whole route.

You don’t need perfection.
You just need one honest choice.

Then another tomorrow.

Let me know what shifts.

Alicia

Tarot Pull

Six of Swords Reversed

I shuffled the tarot cards, and the Six of Swords Reversed fell out. This card is about being stuck in indecision, stuck between two places. Lack of momentum to move forward. When we have an energy leak, that is exactly what is happening. We can't move forward. We are stuck. (Burgers or sushi?) Our energy returns when the ambiguity ends. When we haven't fully decided, when we're in the midst of a change, our energy leaks, and we are in a bit of a quagmire. SO to rectify this situation, figure out where YOU haven't made a complete decision. Where are you between shores? Make your decision fully and take the necessary actions to move forward.

If you enjoyed reading this piece, this is another post on seizing opportunities when they appear.

Making Change Happen

My house had been apricot-colored for over twenty years. When people asked for directions, I’d say, “It’s the apricot one.” Those Marina-style flats are nearly identical, so the color became my home’s identity. But this year, I stood outside staring at several paint sample squares. I was at a Choice Point:
Do I stay with the familiar color that has defined my home for decades?
Or do I choose something different?

I chose the blue paint with cream trim.

Okay, fine — it wasn’t exactly “wild side” material… but it was different.
And that’s the point.

The Choice Point is where you assert your agency.

It’s the moment where you stop reacting to your life and start creating it.

And here’s the truth: One decision, made with awareness, can alter the entire trajectory of your future.

Agency: The Practice

Agency requires something deeply uncomfortable: You must step outside your comfort zone.

This is not a one-and-done thing. It’s a practice — and like any practice, it happens in the small, unglamorous moments of daily life.

I practice doing hard things:

• When I turn the cold water on and step into the shower.

• When I go upstairs to get dressed for my salsa class.

• When I walk to the gym for my weight-lifting class.

• When I show up for the pole dancing class.

It might look easy from the outside, but internally?
The negative voice is SCREAMING:

“What are you DOING?”
“Why take a cold shower when you’re warm?”
“Why go to salsa? No one will dance with you anyway.”
“Why lift weights when you could hide in water aerobics?”
“And pole dancing? At your age? Have you lost your mind?”

This is the old code trying to keep me “safe.”
Safe = small.
Safe = familiar.
Safe = numb.

But here’s the thing:
Life doesn’t happen inside my comfort zone.
Comfort is just a security blanket draped over boredom.

Forward Momentum

The Choice Point is where life begins.

It’s the instant you choose the unfamiliar over the habitual. The moment you lean into discomfort instead of retreating from it. The breath you take right before you do the thing your old identity would have avoided.

You only have to move 4% outside your comfort zone for growth to happen —
but let me tell you, that 4% feels like a full-on leap across a canyon.

Growth feels physically uncomfortable because your nervous system is calibrated to the old parameters of “safety.” When you step beyond them, your body sounds the alarm — not because you’re in danger, but because you’re evolving.

And what I’ve learned is this: What I’m used to is no longer working for me.
If I don’t choose differently, I will slide back into the cold grayness of numb.
I’ve lived numb. It leads nowhere.

I pay attention to the micro-moments where I have a choice:
stay or go, hide or show up, contract or expand.

The going may not be easy, but nowhere in my imaginary “instruction manual for life” did it say it would be.

Micro-Decisions

When you feel overwhelmed, think of the Hermit Tarot card. His lantern doesn’t illuminate the whole journey — just the path directly in front of him.
One step. Then the next.

Make micro-decisions that support your growth.
Move into action.
Let the next step reveal itself.

Do your work.
Live your life.

Yes, it’s hard. And yes, there are moments when I think, “WTF am I doing?”

But those moments pass.
And then I realize: I’m stronger because I did the hard thing.

Be your own best supporter.
Pay attention to the dialogue in your head.
Make sure it lifts you rather than limits you.

Tell yourself — and believe it:

“I do hard things. I can do this.”

Because you can.

And your Choice Points are waiting.

Tarot Pull:

Three of Pentacles Reversed

This is a powerful card to align with this reading. It shows the necessity of breaking old ways to move forward.

You cannot build a new life with old tools.

You cannot grow if you refuse discomfort.

You cannot expand if you cling to the familiar.

This card perfectly reflects the need for the Choice Point decision to reach your desired goals.

“Can you not see what is in front of your face?” My girlfriend asked…

Apparently, I couldn’t. I asked for clarity.

“He is EXACTLY like your ex.”

“No, he is NOT,” I insisted. And I listed off the ways he was different:

• he holds my hand and doesn’t complain

• he looks at me and smiles

• he opens the car door for me…

“Yes, yes, yes…” she said. “But he treats you the same way. He says mean condescending comments, he tears you down instead of building you up, he has negative energy.”

None of that I saw.

Why? For the same reason that the fish is the last one to know he is swimming in water. It’s pervasive. It’s always been there, and the fish knows no difference.

Her words didn’t land immediately. But then it happened again — this time with someone who actually treated me well…

Here’s what happened: I started going out with a fairly nice guy.

• He texts regularly to check in and see how I’m doing.

• He asks about my kids and the dog.

• He shares his day with me.

And I feel… uncomfortable— even though that is exactly what I said I wanted.

Yet it wasn’t familiar.
Kindness felt foreign.
Care felt suspicious.

My nervous system didn’t know where to file this new information.

When you’re inside the jar, you can’t read the label.

My Italian girlfriend (Sophia Loren would be proud) could see the whole thing clearly from the outside. I, meanwhile, was swimming in murky emotional water, insisting it was fine.

Here’s the Ugly Truth

We are comfortable with what we are accustomed to.

Identify the beliefs that once protected you but now keep you small.

The News

We keep repeating what we don’t want because we are not even AWARE of the pattern.

Hello! Time to change the story. And now I have the AWARENESS to NOT DO IT AGAIN!!!

The Old Code

I’ve had this code running below the surface– my hidden operating system. I’ve been absorbing invisible messages about how to belong, how to succeed, and how to be loved since before I could talk.

• Be polite.

• Be pretty.

• Be helpful.

• Don’t rock the boat.

• Don’t ask for too much.

That code decided what I thought I deserved, how much space I could take up, what kind of treatment felt “normal,” and even what kind of men I allowed into my life.

It shaped my instincts.

It shaped my choices.

It shaped my whole damn map of reality.

So even when I try to “be different,” my subconscious grabs the wheel and says, “Don’t worry, I know the way back to your comfort zone.”

Even if the comfort zone is actually a cage.

This was my operating system. The Good Girl System.

And so I ended up living in a loop:

I work harder, yet feel stuck.

I want clarity, yet stay confused.

I want freedom, yet default to obligation.

My brain kept running the familiar pattern because the familiar felt safe.

Even when the familiar was suffocating.

Awareness is the crack in the system.
Awareness is the moment your conscious mind wakes up and says:

“This isn’t fate. This is programming.”

The work isn’t to fix yourself — it’s to upgrade your code.

To identify the beliefs that once protected you but now keep you small.

To ask:
“What if I don’t need this anymore?”
“What if I can do this differently?”
“What if love isn’t supposed to feel like management?”

And then — slowly, bravely —
you choose differently.

If you want to try this for yourself, here’s a simple RecodeNOW practice:

1. Notice one pattern that keeps repeating.

• A type of person you choose.

• A dynamic you fall into.

• A reaction that feels automatic.

2. Ask yourself:
- What belief is this pattern reinforcing?

3. Then whisper:

“I see you. You’re not me anymore.”

It sounds small, but it’s powerful. Because awareness begins the rewrite. And once you rewrite the code, your whole life begins to change.

Next Issue

In the next issue, I will talk about the moment when everything starts to shift– the instant you go from reacting to creating. It’s what I call the Choice Point, and it’s the foundation of all true transformation.

Until then—

Choose differently. Live deliberately.

Tarot Pull

Ace of Pentacles Reversed

The Ace of Pentacles are like the seeds that fall on rocky ground. It’s not fertile and it’s hard to grow anything. The soil is wrong. It is guiding you to change the foundation.

As part of my review of last year, I started thinking about the one thing I regret most. That sent me into a small emotional tailspin — because once you open the door to regret, all the others come marching in like they’ve been waiting for the cue. Not pretty.

The Pattern

One pattern jumped out immediately:
Every regret I had was an action I didn’t take.
Classes I didn’t sign up for. Trips I didn’t go on. Situations where I let fear yell louder than desire.

And honestly? I’m done with that.
Cue the line from Network:
“I’m mad as hell and I’m NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

I am tired of letting my lizard brain — fear — run the whole show.

The Shift

If I want things to be different, I have to do things differently.

What does “different” look like?

Well, last Monday night it looked like salsa dancing.

For years, I wanted to take dance lessons, but my husband didn’t wanted to go.
Now I don’t have a husband… and I can do what I want.
So I signed up for salsa and put “first class” on my calendar.

To be completely honest (and why wouldn’t I be?), my heart was pounding so loudly I wasn’t sure I’d hear the music. To manage the nerves, I started chatting with the people standing in line with me — in the pouring rain, I might add.
(A line! On a Monday night! In the dark! In a storm! People are fascinating.)

I met a sweet young couple and stuck to them like glue.

Once inside, we lined up single file, so no one could tell I was there alone. Then we paired off and rotated partners. It was shockingly easy — a new partner appeared every few minutes like a dancing conveyor belt.

And in two and a half hours, I only stepped on three feet.
Not bad for night one.

The Lesson

Here’s the part that surprised me:
Afterward, I felt brave.

Not because I went to a dance class by myself.
But because I didn’t let the fear of going stop me.

I drowned out the negative voice in my head by filling it with the chatter of meeting new people. I focused on talking to others, not my own nerves. I took action. I had fun. And afterwards, I slept like a baby.

If you’ve been letting your fear-lizard run your life, go ahead and turn him into a pair of shoes.

The Truth

Here’s the truth:
You don’t want to be on your deathbed thinking about the life you didn’t live — all because fear had the final say.

When I listed my regrets this year — all the places I’d let fear, other people’s opinions, or someone else’s comfort take the wheel — I was pissed. At myself. For shrinking. For not standing up for what I wanted.

And now I see how easily that pattern passes itself along.

Generational Shift

When one of my kids says they want to try something new, I sometimes hear my mother’s old fear-voice slide right out of my mouth. Madde said she wanted to play ice hockey and my immediate response was, “Oh, you’ll lose your teeth.”
(Hello? Mouth guard Anyone?)

I learned from a Master Parade Rainer — my mother — and I’m determined to unlearn it.

These days I focus on a growth mindset. I add “yet” to the end of my sentences. And when fear tries to flare up, I respond with curiosity instead of panic. My kids call me out when I slip. I tell them I was brainwashed as a child; they tell me to change the soap.

So here are my intentions for 2026:
Do things differently. Choose growth instead of fear. Take action instead of collecting regrets.

Fear will always show up — that’s its job.
But it doesn’t have to run my life.

When fear rears its fire-breathing head, meet it with loving kindness. And then do the thing anyway.

It makes all the difference.

Tarot Pull

The Lovers Reversed

This card is shockingly appropriate. The Lovers reversed is about self-abandonment, which is all the regrets I revealed at the beginning. It’s about choosing fear over desire and betraying myself without realizing it. It’s about being aware of the patterns of letting others drive my life and choosing a different path. This card reflects the internalized voice of a parent in the reversed, and now I am breaking that cycle.

There comes a moment when everything suddenly clicks into place. All the years of pressure, confusion, and emotional static line up for one sharp second. For me, that moment happened in my mother’s bedroom.

I was sitting at the foot of her bed, crying so hard I could barely breathe. My mom was already deep into Alzheimer’s, but she had a rare, lucid stretch that day. I said, “I can’t take it anymore.” And I meant it.

The stress. The pressure. The feeling that no matter how hard I tried, nothing in my house — or in my life — was ever good enough. And the brutal truth: it wasn’t going to be good enough. Not for the people I was trying so desperately to please.

My mom didn’t have the words anymore, but she understood. She knew that kind of silent pressure intimately. She’d lived by it, too. Growing up, she did all the small tasks — cleaning the garden, cooking dinner, keeping everything just so — as if perfection could hold the world together. She never named the stress out loud, but her whole life vibrated with it.

When my kids were little, she’d sometimes say, “The stress level in this house is crazy.” I brushed it off. I was the lobster in the pot — I didn’t realize the water had been boiling for years.

But that day in her bedroom, something cracked. I felt it: a deep fissure running through the version of myself I had been trying to maintain. I realized I was being eaten alive from the inside out. Something had to give.

Retreat

My instinct, as always, was to retreat inward. Present the solid exterior. Act like everything was fine. But something in me knew that the armor was splitting. This wasn’t a small shift — it was tectonic.

That was late 2019. Then came Covid. After a year and a half, my mom went into memory care. Three months later, Marlowe left for university. The foundation of my world thinned out all at once.

I was too depleted to initiate the change I needed. I had made commitments, and I was determined — stubbornly, maybe — to honor them. And honestly, the unknown felt scarier than the pain I’d grown used to. At least I knew how to survive in the life I had.

Facing the Devil

When divorce finally came to the table, I was devastated. Even necessary change hurts. The future becomes a blank page, and blank pages can be terrifying.

But through all the grief and uncertainty, one quiet word kept circling in the back of my mind: free.
I am finally free.

I didn’t realize how suffocated I’d been until the pressure eased and I could finally breathe without calculating who I needed to be.

Recognizing the Pattern

There are so many things I could have done differently, but here’s the truth I didn’t want to admit: I was used to someone else being in control. Growing up, my mother made the decisions. No discussions. No negotiations. The first time I ever saw my parents “talk it out” was their divorce conversation. I should’ve recognized the pattern when Gunnar asked me to sit on the sofa so we could “talk.” Yep — that was our divorce conversation.

The lessons you don’t learn come back around, and patterns repeat across generations until someone interrupts them.

That’s my job now: to interrupt the cycle. My kids are already better at this than I ever was. When the stress in the house spikes, one of them will say it outright. Just like that — the air clears. They’re naming the thing I spent decades burying.

And honestly? Even tiny topics — dishes in the sink, the laundry room disaster — can feel like “hard conversations” when you grow up in a house where conflict wasn’t allowed. (Are they hard topics? They sure can be.)

How does that FEEL?

As life moves forward, my biggest lesson is learning to identify how I actually feel. I suppressed my emotions for so long that “fine” became my default setting. Now, even when it’s uncomfortable, I’m practicing saying something real.

And here’s the twist: I didn’t turn into my mother — I married a version of her. Classic plot move. But once you see the casting error, you don’t have to keep acting in the same play.

The old script is done. I’m not auditioning for worth or permission anymore. I’m the one at the table now, deciding what happens next.

And that’s what freedom feels like: authorship.

Tarot Pull

Seven of Swords

What a card! Deep into the Seven of Swords are patterns passed down from childhood. It reflects how I learned to survive: by retreating into myself. It shows the quiet escape and self-betrayal. The message is: time to leave quietly because the situation is untenable. But now, everything will change!

This year, the stillness wasn’t optional. I was sick, which meant no fancy New Year’s Eve plans, no sequins, no elaborate dinners. We ordered pizza and ate apple pie, the three kids, my sister and her fiancé, and me. It was… surprisingly perfect. When no one expects anything of you, the body can finally exhale.

As I’ve been recovering, my energy returning one slow notch at a time, I’ve found myself looking back at the year behind me.

2025 began with me four months into the divorce process. Audrey and I were sharing the house on Pierce Street with our two Labradors, Axel and Cooper, trying to create something cozy and stable out of the instability.

Now, at the start of 2026, all three kids are living home again. Axel died on December 23rd from liver failure at age nine, and Cooper is wandering the house a little lost, unsure of how to be an only dog. It feels like the year pressed itself into me with equal amounts of grief and grit.

And somewhere in all of that, something new began.

A childhood friend and I started a project called RecodeNOW — a workshop born not from theory but from necessity. We’ve now run two beta groups, one in San Francisco and one in New York, and the feedback has been incredible. But what’s most meaningful is that the whole thing started because I needed it myself.

In the middle of divorce papers and vet visits and kids coming and going, I became aware of the voice in my head that had been running the show for decades — the one that whispered limits, not possibilities. The one that said I was behind, or not enough, or too much, or out of time. The old code.

RecodeNOW came from the simple, almost laughable realization that the brain believes whatever story you tell it. It doesn’t sort true from false; it just repeats. And if that inner voice is full of old programming, you end up living a life shaped by ghosts.

The process we teach has six steps, but they unfolded for me long before they had names:

Awareness was the moment I finally heard the script running in my mind.
Clarity was turning the harsh sentence into something true.
Energy was letting myself feel even a flicker of possibility.
Action was choosing the new thought again the next day.
Integration was the slow, quiet shift in how I carried myself.
Freedom is the sense I have now — not of being done, but of being in motion by my own choosing.

Change doesn’t happen overnight. It happens with repetition, gentleness, and the willingness to disrupt our own patterns. It happens through the practice — catching the old code and offering the brain a better story. Sometimes that looks like journaling. Sometimes meditation. Sometimes taking a walk, or breathing differently, or simply noticing the thought before it spirals.

It isn’t dramatic. But it is powerful.

As I move into this new year, I’m thinking a lot about Mary Oliver’s reminder that this is our “one wild and precious life.” I’ve wasted enough time letting my inner narrator run amok. I’m ready to chart my own direction — slowly, imperfectly, intentionally.

I don’t know exactly who I’m becoming next.
But for the first time in a long time, I can feel that I’m the one in the driver’s seat.

And that feels like the real beginning of the new year.

Tarot Pull

Every time I pull a card for my blog, I am surprised by how perfect it is. The Ace of Swords is no different for today's blog. The Ace of Swords is about mental clarity, cutting through the fog, the birth of a new mindset, a clean, uncompromising decision point. It points to having agency to move forward. All this speaks so perfectly to today's post. I hope you carry the Ace of Swords energy with you as you enter the new year.

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Where is fear masquerading as structure?

A Small Shift

Some families cling to tradition like it’s a life raft. We did too. Thanksgiving meant pulling out the same stained recipe file, divvying up the same dishes, and performing the same choreography year after year. A ritual more out of muscle memory than meaning.

Then came the warning: stuffing inside the turkey could cause bacteria to grow. A tiny thing, but it cracked the veneer. I fought it — because it wasn’t about stuffing. It was about admitting that even the smallest certainty could fail.

Others didn’t want to risk it. They rebelled. So we cooked the stuffing outside the bird.

Then something startling happened:
We didn’t need the turkey anymore.

A New World of Possibilities

That bird had been symbolic — a centerpiece no one liked, tolerated only because it was “the way things are done.” Once it went, the whole structure started shaking. Two chickens instead. Then, after the divorce, everything blew open.

We went rogue: pork roast, pumpkin gnocchi.
This year? Prime rib.
Next year? Who knows.

The tradition wasn’t evolving.
It was dissolving.

And the truth is: the turkey wasn’t the only thing no one liked. The whole ritual had outlived the version of us that built it.

Creating a New Way

Tradition gave us comfort once. It gave us grounding. But when life changes — marriages ending, families reshaping, identities shifting beneath your feet — the old rituals can become mausoleums. You keep showing up, but you’re visiting ghosts.

So we built a new grounding. Not in dishes, but in people. In food we actually enjoy. In permission. In laughter. In the relief of not forcing ourselves to be who we were ten years ago.

And it made me wonder:
Where else in my life have I been doing things on autopilot?
Where have I mistaken repetition for stability?
Where have I clung to “how it’s always been done” because I was afraid of what change would uncover?

I saw it in my water aerobics classes: a routine I kept because deviation felt dangerous. What if I forgot a step? What if I didn’t finish in time? What if it wasn’t good enough?

Fear masquerading as structure.

But once I broke the pattern, everything loosened. There was energy. Flow. Fun. Not amusement-park fun — the quiet fun of realizing you’re allowed to reinvent the shape of your day.

That’s the deeper invitation here.
Not “try a new recipe.”
Not “pivot for a fresh perspective.”

It’s this:

Stop worshipping the things that no longer feed you.

Traditions are only sacred when they are alive.
When they become embalmed, it’s okay — necessary — to walk away.

As we close out 2025 and walk toward 2026, ask yourself:
What are you clinging to because it once made sense?
What would happen if you put even one old ritual down and let your actual life choose a new one?

Change doesn’t require a crisis.
Sometimes it starts with the simple realization:
No one likes the turkey.

Much love,
Alicia

Tarot Pull

The Hierophant

This card fell out of the deck as I was shuffling for this blog post. It’s so perfect because it’s all about tradition. The Hierophant is the keeper of structure, rituals, inherited wisdom, and the rules we are told to obey before we even ask if they fit. The shadow side is blind obedience. The liberating side is conscious choice. Instead of blindly following traditions, ask WHY? What is the meaning for you? Where can you create new traditions that have meaning for you? Traditions are the scaffolding that hold us. Maybe it’s time to see if that scaffolding is truly necessary.

PS: To everyone who has helped me achieve my certification as a Transformational Tarot Card reader, I have attained that level! Thank you so much for your faith in me to read your cards!

I use the Tarot cards as a part of my eight-week coaching program to help you transform your life and step into your calling. Spots are opening in January and February if you are interested. Send me a message for more details.

As a sophomore at St. Rose High School in San Francisco, religion class was taught by the dean of students, Ms. Hack — an ex-nun with a spine of steel and a gaze that could freeze a room. Most of us were terrified of her. She wasn’t cruel; she was simply unbending, the kind of woman teenagers instinctively respect and fear at the same time.

Looking back now, I can see she was decades ahead of her time.
The year was 1975, and she was teaching us meditation and visualization — words few used then. There were no mindfulness books on endcaps, no spiritual podcasts. It was strange, subversive territory, especially within the walls of a Catholic school.

But for reasons I couldn’t have articulated then, I was drawn to it.

She taught us about the “scripts” running in our minds — the automatic storylines we treated as truth. Our job, she said, was to learn to watch them. Identify them. Question whether they helped us or harmed us.

And the truth, once I finally looked, was brutal:

Most of mine were harmful.

Not small-harmful.

Foundational-harmful.

I’m not good enough.
I’m not smart enough.
No one will love me as I am.

I didn’t think of these as beliefs. They were simply the atmosphere I lived in, like weather I didn’t know I could step out of. And because I didn’t know better, I let those scripts run — uninterrupted — for decades.

Awareness

Awareness, I would learn much later, is only the first doorway.
Recognizing the negative self-talk is essential, but it is not liberation.

The second half — the recoding, the rewiring — was the part I never got to learn.

Halfway through the semester, Ms. Hack disappeared from our schedule. New teacher. New curriculum. Meditation gone. Visualization gone. No more talk of scripts or the mind’s quiet machinery.

Without her, we had no guide.
We’d opened the door, but we hadn’t stepped through it.

And so we limped along — each of us in our own private ways — knowing there was another path but having no idea how to access it.

For me, that meant spending most of my life wrestling with thoughts I didn’t choose but somehow believed. Always trying to change. Always slipping back. Always wondering why transformation felt like an uphill climb in wet sand.

People say change is hard.What they don’t mention is how hard it is when no one ever taught you.

Clarity

It took me years — decades, really — to realize that it’s not a process at all.
It’s a practice.

A garden.
One day cleared, the next day overrun.
Weeds pushing through cement with the strength of something ancient, something that refuses to die simply because you’re tired of seeing it.

And then… here I am at sixty-six, back at the doorway I first glimpsed at fifteen.

Only now, I’m finally able to see the real wound.

I used to think the tragedy was how long it took me to change.

But that wasn’t the tragedy.

The real heartbreak was this:

The girl I was at fifteen carried an ache she couldn’t name.
She thought she was unworthy — not because anyone said it outright, but because no one ever said otherwise. She mistook the silence around her for proof. She assumed the pain was her fault. She believed the scripts because she didn’t know she was allowed to question them.

And that belief shaped everything.

It shaped how she loved.
How she hid.
How she dreamed small.
How she disappeared in rooms where she should have taken up more space.

For decades, I blamed her for that.
But now — with the kind of clarity that only age and tenderness make possible — I can finally say the truth she needed to hear:

She was never unworthy.
She was never broken.
She was more than enough, even then.

The tragedy wasn’t her unworthiness —
it was that she lived so long without knowing her worth.

So I became the one who tells her now.

Day after day, gently but without wavering, I lay down a new truth in her hands, a new practice:

You were enough then.

You’re enough now.

You always were.

Action

And once you know that — truly know it, not as an affirmation but as a bone-deep reality — something shifts.

The ground steadies.
The air clears.
The old scripts lose their power.

I used to walk through life bracing.
Now I walk through life aware.

I used to walk as someone hoping to be chosen.
Now I walk as someone who chooses herself.

And this, I think, is the final quiet miracle of all those years of circling:

I didn’t become worthy —
I finally recognized that I always was.

At fifteen, I couldn’t step through the doorway.
At sixty-six, I step through with both feet planted, head lifted, heart unguarded — not because the world told me I was enough,
but because I finally believed the girl who was never wrong about her own worth.

And then the screen widens, the sound dissolves, the scene recedes.

A woman walking forward.
Not searching.
Not striving.

Just living in the full knowing of her own enoughness.

Her own worth.

Fade to black.

How do you see old scripts running your life? What needs to change for you to walk through the threshold to something new?

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Tarot Pull

Death

Unbelievable that I would pull the Death card to go with this blog post. The Death card is about crossing the threshold... leaving what has been for what is next... a transition. Just as I wrote about in this post. Death releases the old version of myself that was built on a lie. Here the old script the dies. What is released (the phoenix rising from the ashes) is the me who existed before the wound, before the silence. Death is the return to the truth, shedding inherited shame. It’s liberation. It’s not about becoming something new, but about reclaiming who I always was. Something truer can live. The old story has died and now I am free to live my real story. BAM!!!

The most powerful navigation system you’ll ever use isn’t a GPS — it’s your future self.

We walk down an unpaved road, hand in hand, radiant in the warm sun. We are both tan and relaxed, laughing as we share silly stories with each other. He’s wearing a short-sleeved white linen shirt, and I’m in a white linen tank dress belted at the waist, sandals on my feet, a broad sun hat on my head, a woven bag over my shoulder.

We sit at our usual table outside our favorite seaside restaurant, the sound of waves and gulls wrapping around us. It is idyllic.

That is my vision — the vision I hold of my future self, ten years from now. The details are clear. I can feel the warmth of the sun, smell the salt air, hear the laughter. In my mind, it’s real. When I think of it, pleasure envelops my whole being.

Making Decisions and Finding Footing

This is the vision I return to when I make decisions:
What would future me do in this situation? Would she buy this? Would she say yes to this?

My vision keeps me aligned. It feeds my soul and steadies me through challenges. I know good things are ahead, and my choices reflect that knowing. My life flows with more grace and ease.

This isn’t about living in a fantasy. It’s about being anchored in the present while guided by a clear compass. I am no longer letting others steer my destiny — I am the creator of my own life. I stay connected to my future self, feeling her strength, her grounded calm.

Her path is my path. It gives me assurance and comfort as I walk through today’s uncertainties. It helps me keep faith — in the bigger picture and in myself.

My vision grew out of a felt sense of how I want my life to feel. It emerged from an inner knowing, not a to-do list.

That doesn’t mean my life is perfect now. But having a sense of direction — and knowing I’m moving toward it — guides my daily choices and keeps me in motion.

Grounded in Science

This future self concept grows from the awareness that thoughts create reality. We are energy, and we can use that energy intentionally to create the life we desire.

Our brain is a powerful tool. Most of us are taught how to survive, not how to thrive.

What would thriving look like for you?

The Shift

Instead of standing where you are and looking forward, try shifting perspective: imagine your future self vividly, then make decisions from her point of view.

The clearer your image of that future self — and the stronger the bond between who you are and who you’re becoming — the faster you align your identity with her.

Whatever we focus on strengthens. By envisioning your future self, you’re fostering change at the identity level, because lasting transformation requires you to see yourself as the new you.

“It is impossible to create any new future when you are rooted in your past.” — Dr. Joe Dispenza

When I hold the vision of my future self, I know who I’m becoming. I move toward her, one choice at a time. I show up for myself. There is no savior outside of me — my savior is within.
I am here to create myself, to become my best self.

A Closing Invitation

Take five quiet minutes today. Close your eyes and meet your future self.
Ask her: What do you need from me now?
Then listen. She already knows the way.

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Tarot Pull

Four of Pentacles

When I pulled a card to accompany this week’s message, I received the Four of Pentacles — a gentle reminder that holding on too tightly keeps me from growing into who I’m becoming.

My future self doesn’t cling to what she has; she trusts in the flow of life, in her ability to create, and in the abundance that’s all around her. Each time I loosen my grip and release the need for control, I step closer to her — open-handed, open-hearted, ready to receive.