There is something deeply magical about transitions.
Not the big moments everyone sees. Not the celebrations, the milestones, or the finish lines.
I'm talking about the quiet in-between.
The seasons where life feels uncertain. The moments where you know something is changing, but you aren't quite sure what you're changing into yet.
I've spent a lot of my life fighting those transitions. Trying to rush them. Trying to control them. Trying to understand why things weren't unfolding the way I thought they should.
But as I've gotten older, I've started to realize that transitions are where some of our greatest lessons live.
When I was 26 years old, I received news that changed the course of my life.
I found out that I would never be able to carry or birth my own children.
For a long time, I carried that grief quietly.
Not because I thought less of other women who couldn't have children. Never that.
But because I questioned myself.
I questioned my worth.
I questioned whether I was enough.
There was a part of me that had always imagined motherhood in a very specific way. Growing a child. Feeling those first kicks. Experiencing the incredible miracle that women's bodies are capable of.
Because honestly?
Women are incredible.
Our bodies create life. Nourish life. Grow another human being from nothing more than love, biology, and pure magic. The fact that a woman's body can do that has always amazed me.
And when I learned that my body couldn't follow that path, it felt like I had somehow lost a piece of who I thought I was supposed to become.
It took years to understand that my worth was never tied to my ability to give birth.
It took years to understand that nurturing comes in many forms.
Love comes in many forms.
Family comes in many forms.
And life has a funny way of showing us that there are many paths to the same destination.
The truth is, every difficult thing I've experienced has shaped me into the person I am today.
The heartbreaks.
The disappointments.
The people who stayed.
The people who left.
The dreams that came true.
And the dreams that didn't.
There have been men in my life who have helped shape my story in beautiful ways.
My dad.
My Grandpa Al.
My boyfriend Cody.
My ex Andrew.
My best friend Travis.
My nephews Cohen, Aiden, and Easton.
And yes, there have been men who have hurt me too.
But every relationship, every lesson, every experience taught me something.
Strength.
Resilience.
Compassion.
Boundaries.
Forgiveness.
Without those experiences, I wouldn't be who I am today.
Strong.
Passionate.
Giving.
An empath.
Someone who feels deeply.
Someone who believes that people come into our lives for a reason, even if we don't understand the reason right away.
That's the thing about transitions.
Sometimes we're so focused on what we're losing that we can't yet see what we're becoming.
Sometimes the universe closes a door not because we're being punished, but because we're being redirected.
And sometimes the most beautiful chapters begin after we've completely surrendered our original plans.
As I sit here writing this, I can feel another transition beginning.
A gentler one.
A quieter one.
A page turning.
Over the last several blogs, I've shared pieces of my story.
The heartbreak.
The healing.
The people who helped shape me.
The moments that brought me home to myself.
And while I know there are still stories to tell and trust me, there are many I feel called to shift my focus for a little while.
Back to the heart of why this little shop exists.
Crystals.
The stones that have comforted me during hard seasons.
The pieces that have sat beside me while journaling through grief.
The crystals I've carried during new beginnings.
The ones that somehow seem to find us exactly when we need them.
Over the next few blogs, I want to dive deeper into crystal meanings, crystal properties, and the beautiful ways these stones connect with our lives.
But don't worry.
This isn't goodbye to the personal stories.
There are still stories waiting to be shared.
Stories about the Oregon Coast.
Stories about my Grandpa Al.
Stories about my journaling journey.
Stories about my love for travel and the dream I have of one day standing in Bali, Indonesia.
Stories about country concerts, unexpected adventures, and all the little moments that make up a life.
Those stories aren't going anywhere.
They're simply waiting for their season.
Because just like crystals, stories have their own timing.
And right now, I think it's time to return to the foundation of what brought us all together in the first place.
So tell me.
What crystals are you drawn to lately?
What would you like to learn more about?
And if you've enjoyed these personal blogs, I'd love to hear that too.
Thank you for allowing me to share pieces of my heart with you.
Thank you for reading.
And thank you for walking alongside me through every chapter, every transition, and every turn of the page.
The story isn't ending.
We're simply beginning a new chapter.