Finding my Groove Again.

For a while, I wasn't sure I'd ever write this post.

A lot of people probably thought I disappeared this year.

Honestly, I kind of did.

Not because I wanted to.

Not because I gave up.

Life just hit me from every direction at once.

After years of remission, my vasculitis came back.

At the same time, my best friends graduated and moved away, I was trying to finish my master's degree, and all I wanted was to be home in Colorado.

I was homesick.

Exhausted.

Sick.

And trying my best to keep moving forward.

So instead of writing, I got quiet.

At least on here.

Because the truth is, when life gets really hard, writing becomes difficult for me.

Writing forces me to make sense of things.

It forces me to put feelings into words.

And when you're in the middle of something hard, sometimes putting those feelings into words makes everything feel even more real.

So I stopped writing.

But I didn't completely stop sharing.

Instead, I think I started showing my life differently.

One thing that kept me afloat this year was romanticizing my life.

I know that sounds silly.

But when your brain wants to focus on everything that's hurting, you have to intentionally look for the good.

So I made my coffee.

I watched sunsets.

I took long walks.

I found joy in small moments.

I sat outside and had a picnic instead of sitting on my couch.

I documented trips.

I celebrated tiny wins.

I made TikToks.

Looking back, I don't think a lot of those videos were really about the places I was going or what I was doing.

They were reminders to myself that there was still so much good around me.

That life was still happening.

That there were still things worth getting excited about.

Even on the hard days, which honestly felt like most days this year.

And through it all, I was still doing it.

My own little reminder of how strong I am.

I think one of the greatest gifts this year gave me was learning how to find the good, the happy, and the joy in each and every day, even when it felt impossible.

And then there was Boots.

My little sidekick.

Literally.

He basically went everywhere with me for a year.

I had planned on getting him for a while, but honestly, I think he was sent to rescue me.

Something bigger than me had planned for him long before I knew what this year would become.

Long before I knew I would fall out of remission.

Long before I knew how much I would need him.

Looking back now, it feels like my guardian angel was putting pieces into place before I even knew they were needed.

Because somehow, he arrived at exactly the right time.

When I didn't want to get out of bed, he needed to go outside.

When I wanted to stay home, he needed a walk.

When I felt lonely, he was there.

No expectations.

No explanations.

Just unconditional love.

I thought I was bringing home a puppy.

Instead, I got exactly what I needed.

A daily reminder of the love, joy, and goodness that still exists all around us.

The reality of chronic illness is that it comes with you everywhere.

To class.

To work.

To dinner with friends.

To the grocery store.

To vacations.

To every place you're trying so hard to show up.

People see the moments.

They don't always see what it took to get there.

Waking up every morning feeling like you could still sleep another entire night.

The stiffness.

The fatigue.

The headaches.

The nausea.

The body aches.

The constant battles that show up without warning.

There were days this year when just getting out of bed felt hard.

Going to class felt even harder.

Days when finishing my master's degree felt completely out of reach.

But somehow, I kept showing up.

One class.

One assignment.

One day at a time.

I've never given up on my life, and I wasn't going to start now.

And somehow, that degree got finished.

Now, I'm finally settled back home in Denver.

After two incredible trips with some of my favorite people in the world, I finally feel like I'm coming up for air again.

I graduated.

I came home.

And for the first time in a long time, home actually feels like home.

The mountains are outside my window.

My family is close by.

Boots is running around the house with his uncles, Cowboy and Rodeo.

And life feels a little lighter.

Not perfect.

Just lighter.

Today, June 1st, I start my summer job at a Montessori school.

After that, I'll begin my first full-time teaching job at a private school here in Denver.

The little girl who always wanted to be a teacher honestly wouldn't believe it.

And neither would fourteen-year-old Annie, sitting in a hospital bed, wondering what her future would look like.

This year humbled me.

It slowed me down.

It forced me to take care of myself in ways I never had before.

But it also reminded me that hard seasons don't last forever.

Sometimes your job is simply to keep going until you find your groove again.

And I think I'm finally starting to find mine.

June feels like a fresh start.

For the first time in a long time, I'm starting to feel like myself again.