Another year has come to an end, and I don’t know about you, but I am BEYOND happy that 2025 has left the building. It can kick rocks for all I care. Last year really tested my strength, patience and my ability to not end up in a padded room somewhere. I know that life happens and, at times, it happens in ways that makes us scratch our heads wondering…wtf? Either we figure it out or we scream and cry in a corner until we figure it out. The girl losing all her marbles, sitting in the corner and crying was probably me.

Last year I felt like I was being pulled in 51 different directions and in doing so, I was leaving nothing, but goo for myself to function on. And while being pulled in so many directions is my norm most days, it really drained me last year. Things happened that were out of my control and I hate that. I want to fix it and have all the answers, but I absolutely did not have anything to offer.  I don’t know if the situations that happened last year were meant to test me or what, but I feel like I got an “F” on all of it.

A lot of the nights last year were spent with me staring at this laptop, wondering how to even start a sentence. I figured since writing is my cure-all, I could write, write, write and write, but all I could actually do was stare, stare, stare, and stare. I felt myself running away and I couldn’t see the direction that I went to try and get myself back. Worst of all, I didn’t think I needed to be found. I was gone and maybe that was for the best. It took a lot of sleepless nights for me to realize that I wasn’t gone. The part of me that was harming me was in fact gone. The part of me that was convincing me that my worth was minimal, and my goals were unreachable and unachievable. I fell for it all. I believed it all. So, with that came weight gain, weakness and the loss of my true being. My fight to find my strength and self-worth was so far past gone that I started to wonder if I ever had it to begin with.

Fast forward to the girl that is writing this now. The girl who dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a part of her true being that is still hanging on by a thread. That all of her didn’t believe the brain wash that the harm was trying to do. A piece of her stood in the distance, waiting for the harm to dissipate, knowing that one day it would. She was right. She’s here and the harm is not. She survived it all.

When I was a little girl, I dreamt of me becoming a strong, independent woman who knew what she wanted and went for it. I wanted my writing to save people from giving up, smile when all they could do was cry, know that they aren’t alone and to know their worth. It was pretty impossible to become that person that Little Joei dreamt of when all I could think about was how internally battered, scared, and exhausted I was. I can feel it in my bones, blood and heart that Little Joei would be proud of the change that I have made. I’m becoming the woman she dreamt of.

The light at the end of the tunnel, the grass being greener on the other side and having your cake and eating it too all comes from what you make of it. Whether that means you get rid of toxic people, jobs, relationships or substances. Whether that means you change your whole mindset, create new goals, start new routines and start new hobbies. Being stuck isn’t your end-all. Living Groundhog’s Day for what feels like forever doesn’t mean tomorrow has to be like that as well. Take it from me, life is too short.

When I was 17 years old, I became incredibly ill. I was dying and didn’t know it. I had no energy, my skin color was yellow, I had dark circles around my eyes, I had half the hair I do now and my heart was constantly racing. I felt like I had just ran a marathon just from taking the trash out. My heart would be beating so fast that I couldn’t even count the beats to see where my BPM was at.

I told my mom and she rushed me to the doctors where they ran an insane amounts of tests. While waiting for the STAT blood work results to come back, my mom took me to the store to get iron supplements since my doctor said I was probably anemic. Once we got home, my sister was in the driveway in tears holding the phone. She said that the doctor had just called and said to rush me to the ER and that the nurses there were waiting for me. We quickly headed to the ER where, in fact, the nurses were waiting for me. They had me jump to the top of the ER wait list and I was immediately taken to a room where they were trying to do my tests, but my body wasn’t allowing it. Based on the results from my doctor and what the nurses were able to get, I was admitted. I was given 4 units of blood and an endless amount of fluid to get my body hydrated and stable.

While receiving the first bag of blood, I heard the doctor tell my mom that if I would have waited 2 weeks, my heart would have gone into cardiac arrest and I would have died. He continued to tell my mom that I wouldn’t live to turn 18 years old. If I did live to turn 18, I wouldn’t be strong enough to walk with my graduating class, and my body wouldn’t be strong enough to handle having children. I remember rocking back and forth in my hospital bed because the pain of the blood transfusion was unbearable. I remember thinking to myself that the doctor was wrong and I was going to spend my life proving it to him. And I have. In January of 2003, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. My 18^th birthday was my last day attending high school in person. I was homeschooled for the entire 2^nd semester of my senior year.

But guess what! I lived to see my 18^th birthday, and I graduated with my graduating class. I even walked with them across the stage to get my diploma. I became so strong and I got my Crohn’s in so much of a better state, that I went from having to take 21 pills a day, including steroids, to only my Crohn’s medicine and my daily vitamins. In 2010, I gave birth to our son, Noah, and I got married to the love of my life, Jason. In 2013, I gave birth to our daughter, Ellie, and we bought our dream home with Jay. Just a couple months ago in December, I turned 41 years old. All of which that doctor told my mom I wouldn’t live to do.

Being told at 17 years old that you weren’t going to live much longer, really put so much in perspective. I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me that I was dying. Throughout the years, I’ve taken this strong body of mine for granted and for that, I am so sorry and I will forever regret that. Moving forward, I will be fighting for this body like it fought for me. It could have given up on me back then, but it didn’t. It could have been too weak to have children, but it wasn’t. I could have died then, but I didn’t.

And so it begins. This new journey. This new ride of fully letting go of the toxic, broken past and embracing the healing and uplifting future. Knowing that bumps in the road will happen, but also knowing that I have the ability to drive right over them instead of getting stuck. I don’t want this new journey to end. I want dreams to come true because I made them come true from having the courage to do so. I want to be the better version of myself that I know is in me. I’ve never felt so released from the past like I do now. I feel like the breakup of my past finally happened and now I am set free to finally embrace what I have wanted to embrace ever since I was a little girl…my life.

Healing is strength. Fear is doubt. Courage is believing. And life…well it begins with you.