Our world, whether it means to or not, has a tendency to place strength and independence at odds with vulnerability, as if we can only have one or the other. Women must either be snappy, professional, and independent as they speed down the sidewalk in their heels or they must curl up in their cashmere sweater to talk about their feelings with their partner. Men must continually be strong and independent, as they aren’t socially expected to have an avenue in which to be vulnerable.  

A 60-day notice to vacate greets us one afternoon after work, posted on the door of the home my husband and I have rented and loved for three years. The weekend I hit emotional rock bottom, we found a one-bedroom, overpriced apartment farther down the freeway. We made an appointment. Anthony skipped class to see it, and he paid a holding fee. We found a place to live.

I want to talk to you—the one looking for deeper connections as you walk towards healing. As I’ve struggled with my own mental health, I have found that it is crucial to cultivate friendships with people who ask how I’m doing and pause to listen to my answer.

If we let it, motherhood can unlock a secret door to the humans we were meant to be. You will never find me claiming to be an expert in the field of motherhood. (It would be foolish to do so when each day presents a new opportunity for growth.) But, if you feel that a part of you has been lost in motherhood, take some time to consider just a few ways into the path of finding!

Even after I knew the relationship was toxic, I stayed. Crippling anxiety and self-doubt forbade me from leaving. I sought advice from friends, family, professionals, and blogs.  And out of everything I learned, there were four lessons that finally gave me the strength to walk away. 

Before, I would gladly sit for hours and allow others’ problems to consume me. I left interactions feeling empty, sick, and like a part of me was missing . . . and I thought I was crazy, because I loved that feeling. Now, I’ve realized that people don’t need me to provide a solution to the problem. They need me to be present while they work through the issue. 

However it started, this is what I realized: something as small as a pill could never define your worth.

Over ten years I’ve been blessed to find myself wandering to 11 countries for missions, internships, leadership school, and, occasionally, the need to simply get out and expand my world perspective. People ask, “What is it like going, traveling, wondering, and being like a modern day nomad?”

Reader, if you do one thing next year, call your home your home. Just do it. No matter where it is, commit to it now. Commit to being at home where you live. 

Your faith, whatever it may be, isn't going to look like the faith of the person next to you. You aren't the person next to you. You have a piece inside of yourself that is so unique and lovely, and it's up to you to shake off what isn't you anymore and protect what is.

When I was at my most broken in this last season, my roommate sat with me on the couch and silently listened as I exploded with confusion. She turned to me and said, “Paige, what is going to bring you the most freedom in this?” 

Let’s look like hope for one another, showing up over and over with the simple reminder of our presence that everything may not be okay, but we can be not okay together. And if there are days we simply don’t want to talk about it, let’s laugh.

Whether you’re a homebody or an adventure-seeker, here are three ways I’ve learned to seek adventure everyday.

You’re gonna find a way to make things work, and even though it might take a little while, your life is going to become brighter than you ever thought it could. 

As Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation reminds us, “No one achieves anything alone.”

You have turned hospitality into an art form. Everyone is welcome in your home. Even a door to door salesman with questionable motives is welcomed in, offered a cup of steaming hot tea, perhaps some dried fruit and chocolate treats, friendly conversation, and a moment to rest before heading back out.