Category: Late Blooming Lessons from Life’s Second Chapter

A journey of discovery. A discovery of self. Pieces of old. Paired with pieces of new.

Lesson #2: When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 2

“I will not apologize for choosing myself this time: self-love is the chapter I’ve always wanted to write.”

As I’ve grown older, my perspective on life—and my place in it—has shifted in ways I never saw coming.

Being the oldest of five, I naturally stepped into the role of the “perfect” eldest child. Responsible. Empathetic. A caretaker. A perfectionist. And perhaps most defining of all… a people pleaser.

For most of my life, I truly believed that putting others first was the right thing to do. That being selfless somehow equaled being lovable. That if I could make everyone else happy, I’d feel fulfilled too.

But after spending the last decade on my own, I’ve come to understand a much harder truth: people pleasing might leave others satisfied, but it often leaves me feeling empty. Unheard. Disappointed in myself. Like I betrayed the very person I’m supposed to be loyal to. Me.

That’s not the life I want anymore.

Some might ask, “WTF took you so long? Seventy years? And you’re just now figuring this out?” And as wild as it may sound, my answer is a resounding YES.

Yes. It took me this long.
Yes. I stayed stuck in old cycles far longer than I should have.
Yes. I kept running on a hamster wheel of approval and expectation.

But here’s what I know now:
It’s. Never. Too. Late.

It’s never too late to rewrite your story.
To choose yourself.
To find joy that doesn’t rely on applause or permission.

So I’m starting now.

At 70, I am choosing happiness—not the kind that depends on validation or fitting into someone else’s mold, but the kind that comes from making choices that align with who I am. From honoring what feels right in my soul. From trusting that I deserve a life rooted in peace and self-respect.

This isn’t about being selfish.
It’s about finally, finally recognizing that my needs. My voice. And my well-being matter just as much as anyone else’s.

For most of my life, I followed the rules. I was the “good girl.” The peacekeeper. The one who didn’t rock the boat. I carried the weight of not wanting to disappoint others—believing that if I did, I’d somehow be unworthy of love.

That belief shaped everything.
My relationships.
My marriage.
My role in the family.

I convinced myself that if everyone else was happy, I’d find happiness too. But instead, I ended up drained. Unseen. And honestly? A little broken.

Eventually, life forced me to ask the harder questions. And the answers weren’t easy. But they were clear.

Following the rules to keep the peace? It wasn’t working anymore.
Choosing myself came with consequences, yes. But I was finally ready to face them.

The details don’t really matter. What matters is this: to me, family means showing up. Through the highs. And the lows. Through love. And hardship. Supporting each other, even when life doesn’t fit neatly into a box.

I will no longer punish myself for being true to who I am. I will no longer shrink to make others comfortable. If someone can’t offer love, respect, and support without strings attached, then I’m stepping away.

Because here’s the hard truth:
You don’t abandon the people you love when things don’t go your way.
You don’t exile them for choosing themselves.
That’s not love. That’s control.

The reality is—we just see the world differently.
To me, LOVE is LOVE. Without conditions. Without judgment. Without expectations.

And I will no longer stay in spaces where love is transactional.

Not with family.
Not with friends.
Not with anyone.

Life is too short to keep living a version of it that doesn’t feel like mine.

So I’m choosing me.
And for the first time in my life…
That choice feels like freedom.

Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter 

A journey of discovery. A discovery of self. Pieces of old. Paired with pieces of new.

Lesson #1: When I Became Enough…Choosing Me Part 1

“Choose to put yourself first and make you a priority. It’s not selfish. It’s necessary.”

Turning 70 this year was a wake-up call. Ten years without Greg. Ten years navigating life on my own. A whole decade. Passed in a flash. And what did I have to show for it? Did I want to live the rest of my life this way? The hard, resounding truth was NO.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want to stay stuck. But, I also knew no one was going to pull me out of it. If I wanted change, it had to start with me. So, I began the uncomfortable process of self-reflection. A deep, honest look at my life. And how I was living it. That’s when I realized: I had been pouring so much of myself into others that I had nothing left for me. And after 70 years, it was time to rewrite the story. Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter. The first of which started with me: My self-care. My self-worth. My self-love.

A toughie for sure. A real challenge.

For so long I lived by the rules: This is what I should be doing as a“ good” daughter…wife…mom. But where was the rule that said, “This is what I should be doing for me?”

Selfish? Self-centered? No. If I didn’t take care of myself first, I was no good to anyone else. I was stressed. Anxious. Even a bit angry. Why? Because I was living for them. Not for me. And the “me” showing up, was a version I didn’t like.

In no way did these choices mean abandoning my family or making decisions that didn’t include them. It meant the choices I made were fully mine. No influence or pressure from outside sources. No one telling me what my priorities should be. Those choices were mine. I owned them. No longer would others dictate how I should choose. Or how I should live. Those voices? Muted. Today. And forever. The only voice I needed was my own.

Self-care is one damn hard lesson. Not just to learn, but to actually practice. After years of taking care of others, I asked myself: What does it even mean? Life doesn’t hand you a “choose me” button. After years of constantly giving. Overachieving. And striving to please everyone around me, the challenge felt overwhelming, like a mountain too steep to climb. But it was time. Choose me. Fight for myself. Be brave enough to accept disappointment. Face rejection. From family. Friends. Whoever. Open the door to my true self. Embrace who I am. No matter the consequences. It was more than survival. It was my way to thrive.

Choosing me meant understanding my actions. Reactions. Even when they were driven by fear. I couldn’t keep living my life constantly trying to figure out what others needed, knowing I’d never please everyone 100% of the time. That path only led to burnout.

What did I need? Time. Patience. Practice. The courage to step into the unknown. Tiptoeing into this new reality, I felt all the “scaries.” The fear of getting it wrong. The pressure of accountability. But that was okay. Because. When I showed up as my true, authentic self, I knew I could handle whatever came my way. The Shame. The Blame. The Judgment. The Backlash. The days of winging it.

Choosing me meant understanding my actions. Reactions. Even when they were driven by fear. I couldn’t keep living my life constantly trying to figure out what others needed, knowing I’d never please everyone 100% of the time. That path only led to burnout.

I was learning. About myself. About life. About what truly mattered. To be real. Honest. To separate who the world expected me to be from who I chose to be. To say “no” without guilt. No more saying “yes” just to keep the peace. No more carrying the weight of others’ expectations. No more pretending to be okay when I wasn’t. No more explaining myself to those unwilling to understand. 

Mistakes are never failures. They are lessons. Opportunities to grow. To evolve. To step into the best version of myself. I was finally getting to know me. Choosing me. Because. At the end of the day, the only person who truly knew what was best for me…was me.

It’s taken me 70 years to get here. But. Now, with whatever time I have left on this earth, I choose to live a life filled with Love. Joy. And Peace.

Because. I am finally choosing me.

“And suddenly you know…It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”

I’m BAAAAACK! But this time, it’s different.

It all started with The Fairytale—stories about my life with Greg, keeping our memories alive. Writing became my therapy, a way to release my pain, to navigate my grief. It was raw. Real. A lifeline during the darkest days, connecting me with others who knew the ache of loss.

Then came The Gregger. A tribute. A way to hold onto him, to honor the selfless, generous, kind, and compassionate man he was.

Moving On. The tough times. The days I didn’t think I’d get through. Holidays. Birthdays. Anniversaries. The weight of absence. The attempt at healing—if you can even call it that. The beginning of the rollercoaster, riding the unpredictable waves of grief.

The Third Year. A step toward the light. A flicker of hope. Learning to find solace in small blessings. To be grateful for the now.

Year 5. The woulda, coulda, shouldas that haunted me as the journey continued. It became harder to write. Harder to find the words. The ups. The downs. The space in between.

Embracing the Unforeseen Journey. More reflection. More self-discovery. Trying to find my place in a world that felt unfamiliar. Struggling. Searching. Hoping.

And now? Now, it’s about ME.

A journey of self-discovery. Reclaiming the pieces of who I was, blending them with who I’m becoming. After years of taking care of everyone else, I’m finally turning inward. Picking up the broken pieces. Piecing them back together—so I can be whole again.

It’s time.

Seventy years in, and still… it’s never too late to discover.

Coming soon…Late Blooming Lessons From Life’s Second Chapter