There’s something about driving myself home after a meaningful weekend that creates space for truth to rise to the surface. The road is moving forward, and somehow our hearts begin moving forward too.
Acceptance isn’t giving up. It’s standing on solid ground instead of fighting reality. From there, every decision becomes clearer because I am no longer trying to be the woman I was ten years ago or the woman someone else expects me to be.
I’ve spent so much of my life taking care of others, pushing through pain, hoping relationships would become what my heart longed for, and expecting myself to keep doing everything as if my body hadn’t changed.
Acceptance doesn’t erase my dreams. It simply says, “This is where I am today, and I can build a beautiful life from here.”And I have.
This weekend showed me something important.
I experienced the joy of being surrounded by my family—the warmth, the connection, the feeling of belonging. At the same time, I experienced the physical realities of my body. After driving two hours to see my family, spending seven joyful hours with my grandchildren and loved ones, then rushing back to my hotel to get ready for a date, my lupus flared. My body swelled, I was in significant pain, and I became increasingly uncomfortable from pushing through hours of activity. Every moment with my family was worth it, but my body reminded me that it has limits I can no longer ignore.
Both things are true. Neither cancels out the other.
Sometimes the most meaningful insights don’t come when life is easy. They arrive on a quiet drive home—as they did for me this morning after leaving at 5:30 a.m.—with miles of road ahead and enough silence for both my heart and my logical mind to finally speak.
I realized that I’ve already built a life that fits who I am today.
I have people who meet me where I am, who understand my physical challenges and enjoy my company for all that I am. They offer a loving hand, a kind word, and genuine acceptance. I enjoy day trips, simple pleasures, nourishing meals, music that makes me smile—and even dance a little. I choose movement that strengthens my body instead of punishing it by expecting it to do what it could ten years ago. I have a career I truly love. And my family… they are my anchors.
I am blessed to have a full life.
If someone comes into my life who fits gently into it—someone who meets me where I am and loves me with all that I am—that would simply be the cherry on top.
And if not, I am still profoundly grateful.
Grateful to be alive.
Grateful to be mobile.
Grateful for my adorable little home.
Grateful for meaningful work.
Grateful to love and be loved.
It all begins with me accepting who I am and where I am in my life.
And from that place of acceptance, everything else becomes a gift.
Love and blessings,
Wendy
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