GETTING MY HOUSES IN ORDER: My home

In 2022, I did something big. Really big for me… I bought my very first home; a sweet little condo that felt like a quiet "Yes. I support you." from the universe. A place that was truly mine.

And that meant the world to me.

Because I've moved a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

Since my divorce in 2009, I've packed and unpacked nine different homes. Nine different floors beneath my feet. Nine different kitchens to learn. Nine different spaces to feel into and decorate.

And through all of that movement, I was also doing the slow, steady work of rebuilding: I was growing a business, expanding my skills, deepening my offerings, holding space for others while navigating a community with an ever-rising cost of living. That was A LOT. I didn't fully realize it at the time, but somewhere in the busyness of surviving and creating, I began to ignore my own need for comfort and softness. For a place that truly felt like me.

The home I moved into in 2016 had already been furnished by its owner. There was little room for my belongings, so I stored or sold what didn't fit. (Let me say that again: I agreed to store or sell items that didn't fit into a home I lived in for five years. Items that would have let me feel like I actually existed in that space. I agreed to be invisible in my own living space. For five years.)

After that, I moved into temporary spaces in mid-2021 and early 2022 while I focused on buying my new home. Those places just needed to function. That was enough. My eyes were on the prize of purchasing a home.

And in May of 2022, I moved into the home I'd worked so hard to buy.

I loved it. And I didn't settle in.

My attention went straight back to work. I'd grown so accustomed to living in a "functional" space that I barely registered the neglect; there were always more important things to tend to.

Then, as I finished decorating the office I'd finally let myself dream into existence, I looked around my home. And it hit me: I had never truly landed here. I'd poured so much energy into building a life that I forgot to make space for the part of me that needed to rest in it.

So when 2025 arrived, I made a quiet, powerful commitment to myself: This year, I will make my home a home. Not just a place to sleep and store things. I’m creating a sanctuary. A soft place to fall. A space that feeds my spirit and reflects my worth.

And slowly, as I added things that made it more mine, my home began to hold me differently. I fell in love with it all over again.

My home is no longer just a space I own. It's where I unwind, reconnect, exhale, find my safety. I'm still arranging, still adding, still claiming it. But something has shifted. I'm not waiting for "someday" anymore. I'm doing it now. I’m learning how to root, how to receive, how to rest in the life I'm building, and how to truly appreciate this gift I worked so hard for.

My house is, gratefully, getting in order.

And my heart is, too.