What I Chose Not to Carry Forward

An open doorway filled with warm light beside the words “Which of these will continue through me?”

Today’s prompt: What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?

There are plenty of things I do differently from how I was raised, but I think the biggest difference is this:

I try to make room for people to be fully themselves.

I was raised in a world where there were a lot of ideas about who you were supposed to be, how you were supposed to behave, what you were supposed to believe, and what parts of yourself were better kept quiet.

As I got older, I began questioning those rules.

Some were useful. Some came from people doing the best they knew how to do. And some simply weren’t mine to keep.

So I started choosing differently.

I try to listen before I judge.

I try to ask questions instead of assuming I already understand.

I try to let the people I love change without making them apologize for becoming someone different.

And maybe most importantly, I try to say the things that sometimes went unsaid when I was growing up:

You are loved.

You matter.

You don’t have to earn your place here.

You can tell me the truth.

You are allowed to become someone I didn’t expect.

I haven’t always gotten this right. There are things I wish I had understood sooner and moments I would handle differently if I could have them back.

But maybe doing something differently from how we were raised isn’t about blaming the people who came before us.

Maybe it’s about noticing what hurt, recognizing what helped, and deciding carefully what we want to hand to the people who come after us.

We inherit so much more than names, recipes, traditions, and photographs.

We inherit ways of loving.

Ways of arguing.

Ways of apologizing.

Ways of being silent.

Ways of making someone feel like they belong.

And somewhere along the way, we get to decide:

Which of these will continue through me?

I hope the answer, more and more, is kindness.

I hope it’s curiosity.

I hope it’s honesty.

And I hope the people I love always know there is room for them here.

 

The Kind of Chaos I’d Choose

“Not All Chaos Deserves a Place In Our Lives”

Is a little chaos actually good for us?

I think it depends on the kind.

Growing up, chaos wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t adventurous or spontaneous.

It was unpredictable.

It taught me to listen for changes in someone’s voice, to read the mood of a room before I stepped into it, and to prepare for storms that often arrived without warning.

That kind of chaos doesn’t make us stronger.

It makes us tired.

A peaceful front porch at sunrise with a rocking chair, warm blanket, lantern, coffee mug, and journal after a gentle rain.

            “Peace doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.”

 

For a long time, I believed peace would feel exciting once I found it.

Instead, it felt… unfamiliar.

I wasn’t used to quiet.

I wasn’t used to not waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

Healing has shown me that peace isn’t empty—it just doesn’t shout.

But there is another kind of chaos that I’ve come to appreciate.

A kitchen that’s a mess because friends stayed too long talking over coffee.

A grandchild’s toys scattered across the living room after a day of laughter.

Plans that change because someone you love calls and asks if you’d like to take a drive.

The creative mess of writing when ideas spill across notebooks faster than you can organize them.

That’s the kind of chaos I’d welcome.

The kind that’s created by living instead of surviving.

Maybe the goal isn’t to eliminate every bit of disorder from our lives.

Maybe it’s to learn the difference between what drains us and what fills us.

These days, I don’t chase perfect order.

But I no longer mistake constant turmoil for a meaningful life, either.

If a little chaos brings laughter, creativity, connection, or unexpected joy…

I’ll gladly leave room for that.

The rest?

I’ve worked too hard to find my peace to give it away.

You Don’t Have to Have It All Figured Out

I would tell my younger self this:
You don’t have to have your whole life figured out.
The people around you may look like they know exactly where they’re going, but most of us are simply learning as we go. Give yourself permission to grow slowly.
Don’t confuse your mistakes with your identity. Every wrong turn can teach you something if you’re willing to learn from it.
Protect your peace. Not everyone deserves unlimited access to your heart, and setting healthy boundaries doesn’t make you unkind—it helps you stay whole.
Most importantly…Don’t spend your life trying to become who everyone else expects you to be.
Become the person who lets you sleep peacefully at night. The one who can look in the mirror with kindness instead of regret.
Success isn’t measured only by what you earn or accomplish. It’s also measured by the people you’ve loved, the compassion you’ve shown, and the times you chose hope when giving up would have been easier.
And if life ever feels impossibly heavy…
Keep walking.
You don’t need to see the entire path. You only need enough light to take the next step.

Dear Younger Me,
You are going to make it.
Love, Your Older Self