2024:

2024: The Year I Reclaimed My Table, My Peace, and My Power

This year, I’ve learned one of the most liberating truths of my life: Just because you share history, kids, or memories with someone doesn’t mean they deserve a seat at your table. Let me say that again for the people in the back: History does not equal entitlement. We outgrow people, places, and things—and honestly, it’s for the best. Especially when those things are stuck in the past or dripping with negativity.

You can send love, wish them well, and hold no ill will, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep them in your life. Sometimes, you’ve got to remove yourself from the circus—unless, of course, you enjoy training the clowns. Spoiler: I don’t. My peace is priceless, and this healed version of me? She smiles more. The forever frown? Gone. My crown? Fixed. Resilient used to be my middle name, but now it’s healed.

It took me years to love myself—flaws, scars, and all—and let me tell you, the feeling is indescribable. Healing myself isn’t just about me; it’s about healing my lineage. I wish I could’ve shaken myself awake sooner, but hey, better late than never. I finally ripped off the blinders and realized I’m the chef of my life, not someone begging for scraps at the table.

Here’s the hard truth: I had to stop showing up for everyone, especially when there was no contract, no reciprocity, no respect. I can’t pour into others if it leaves me with an empty cup. This year taught me that my own company is where I find my truth. It’s where I hear my intuition loud and clear. It’s where I realized I’m my own best friend.

One of the most painful but necessary lessons was understanding why my daughter stopped speaking to me. Looking back, I wasn’t the parent she needed. Oftentimes, I did more harm than good. Taking accountability for my role in that has been humbling and heartbreaking. I get it now. It’s her choice whether or not we ever reconnect. I love her fiercely, unconditionally, and I pray for her forgiveness every day.

This year also brought clarity about my lifelong love for birthdays, cards, and reading people. I discovered it’s part of cartomancy—a gift I’ve had since I was young. Birthdays always gave me unspoken insight into who people were, and it’s something I’ve been doing for a lil’ while now.

But the most important lesson? When your gut screams no, listen. It’s not a suggestion; it’s a warning. Our intuition shows up to save us, often before we even realize we need saving. Trust it. The first time. Every time.

Losing my father and being there for his transition changed me forever. Our relationship was non-existent, but when I got the call to be by his side, I showed up. Unselfishly. For two and a half weeks, I watched him slip away, and it was agonizing. But what hurt more was being surrounded by family members who stabbed me in the front and back out of jealousy because I was the one who showed up. Despite their theft and mistreatment of him, I stayed by his side with a smile, tending to his needs. When my father took his last breath, those family members died in my eyes too. I’m not bitter—I’m better. I see their toxicity for what it is, and I’ve chosen peace, positivity, and disconnection. That choice? It set me free.

Going forward, my focus is on my grandkids and continuing to heal myself so my lineage can heal and thrive too. That’s why I’m building my community, bridging gaps, and stepping into my role as everyone’s favorite auntie—the one they didn’t know they needed.

2024 has been the year of reclaiming my table, my peace, and my power. It’s been about choosing myself, listening to my intuition, and letting go of what no longer serves me. Here’s to living unapologetically, loving deeply, and building a legacy of healing and joy.

Cheers to the healed, whole, and thriving version of me—she’s just getting started.