There are moments in life that feel less like casual conversation and more like the universe cracking open and tossing you a message wrapped in neon lights. Last night, I got one of those moments.

Someone texted me the words: “Do what you have to do.”

At first glance, it’s the kind of phrase you give when you’re tired, confused, or half-checked out of a situation. But for me? It hit like a cosmic permission slip. It felt like the universe sliding a handwritten hall pass across the table and whispering, “Go. Be free. Stop overthinking it.”

And honestly… I’m taking it as my new life mantra. My personal “hold my beer” era has officially begun.

The Moment I Realized I’ve Been Living for Everyone But Me

I’ve spent years catering to people who wouldn’t walk across the street for me. I’ve bent over backwards, sideways, and spiritually inside out to make things “work,” to earn love, to be understood, to be chosen.

If someone needed emotional support? I was there.

If someone was bored, lonely, chaotic, or spiraling? I was there.

If someone wanted the benefits of a girlfriend without the commitment? Yep. Still there.

Meanwhile, I’ve tolerated men who couldn’t even remember basic facts about my life. (Like having a son. Or, you know… being a widow.)

So when I heard “Do what you have to do,” something clicked.

It wasn’t just permission.

It was liberation.

What “Do What You Have to Do” REALLY Means

For me, this phrase cracked open several truths:

1. I don’t owe anyone emotional CPR.

If I want to stare at the ceiling, pet my cats, have some wine, and ignore a man’s existential crisis? I can. That’s self-care, not selfishness.

2. Obligation is not a personality trait.

I am not contractually bound to be the emotional support human for people who drain me.

3. I get to choose where my energy goes.

No more overextending. No more hoping a situationship magically becomes a relationship. No more rearranging my life for people who wouldn’t even rearrange their weekend.

4. I don’t need to be perfect to be worthy.

Perfectionism has been holding me hostage.

“Do what you have to do” reminds me that done is better than perfect, and peaceful is better than performative.

This is basically me choosing “great enough” over “I must be flawless while burning myself out.”

It’s giving… Stoic queen energy. Which actually aligns perfectly with all the personal peace + boundaries work in my Unbothered AF era of life.

Stepping Into My Unbothered Era

This moment snapped me straight into what I like to call my Unbothered Era, the version of me who:

✨ Walks away without sending a 4-paragraph justification

✨ Stops trying to fix grown adults

✨ Chooses silence over chaos

✨ Invests energy only where it’s reciprocated

✨ Protects her peace like it’s her retirement fund

Your peace isn’t a group project.

It’s a solo mission, babe. stoic

And “Do what you have to do” is precisely the kind of mantra that pulls you back into yourself.

Back into your autonomy.

Back into your worth.

Back into the version of you who isn’t afraid to choose herself, even if it disappoints someone who was never showing up anyway.

How This Mantra Is Reshaping My Life

Here’s what “Do what you have to do” looks like in real time:

◆ Ignoring messages that don’t respect my energy

◆ Walking away from half-hearted men and half-baked intentions

◆ Not forcing conversations that never go anywhere

◆ Prioritizing my home, my son, my peace

◆ Choosing joy and ease over explanation and performance

◆ Letting myself rest without guilt

◆ Recommitting to my own goals, boundaries, and desires

◆ Leaving behind relationships that don’t meet my standards (yes, I have standards now—shoutout to my relationship clarity list) relationship

This isn’t rebellion.

This is reclamation.

Why This Phrase Matters (and Why You Might Need It Too)

If you’ve ever been the “strong one,” the fixer, the peacemaker, the emotional shock absorber… you know how heavy life can feel.

You end up carrying other people’s problems, like unpaid emotional labor.

You mistake obligation for love.

You confuse chaos for connection.

You forget that YOU are allowed to choose yourself.

So here is your sign, straight from my little spiritual slap-in-the-face moment:

You’re allowed to do what you have to do. Without apology. Without explanation. Without guilt.

Final Thoughts: The Start of a New Chapter

I’m officially letting this phrase anchor me into my next season.

No more people-pleasing.

No more waiting for someone to magically become the partner I deserve.

No more dimming my own intuition.

This is my permission slip to move in alignment. To listen to myself. To trust my own path. To honor the life I’m building without waiting for external approval.

If you needed a sign to reclaim your peace, your choices, your boundaries, and your energy…

Here it is.

Do what you have to do.

And let the rest fall away.

Today marks 10 years of homeownership for me, a full decade since we bought this little foreclosure and turned it into a home. Typically, an anniversary like this would feel purely exciting or nostalgic. But if you’ve ever navigated grief, you know that big milestones come with layers.

This post isn’t just about celebrating a homeownership anniversary.

It’s about how grief changes every milestone, even the ones that should feel joyful.

The Day That Was Supposed to Feel Happy… But Didn’t

When we bought this house ten years ago, life looked completely different. My husband, James, and I were renovating side by side, dreaming up the family and future we were building within these walls. We had no idea what was coming.

After losing James to metastatic melanoma, this house became something else.

A reminder. A refuge. A trigger. A timeline all on its own.

And that’s the part people don’t talk about enough:

✨ Grief doesn’t stay in the past. It follows you into every holiday, every celebration, every “should-be-happy” moment, even your homeownership anniversary.

How Grief Changes Your Relationship With Home

Homes hold memories, and mine holds an entire lifetime:

• The days we spent tearing out floors
• The late-night renovation planning
• The laughter
• The stress
• The dreams we were building
• And the life we never got to fully live together

When you lose the person you built your life with, even the good milestones are cast in shadow. It’s not because you’re ungrateful; it’s because the person who should be here to celebrate with you is missing.

I’m proud of everything this house has been for me and my son.

But I’d be lying if I said today didn’t also sting.

Holding Pride and Pain at the Same Time

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in my widowhood journey is that two things can be true:

✨ I’m grateful for this house.

✨ I’m still grieving the life we imagined inside it.

That is the reality of healing after loss.

It’s not linear, and it doesn’t follow a neat timeline. Even when you’ve rebuilt so much of your life, certain anniversaries will always hit differently.

This House Became the Story of My After

In the ten years I’ve lived here, this house has held:

• My strongest memories of James
• The early days of becoming a foster and adoptive mom
• Nights when grief swallowed the room
• The slow rebuilding of my identity
• New routines, new dreams, new chapters
• And the woman I’m becoming now

This home has seen every version of me: the wife, the widow, the mom, the renovator, the survivor, the one still learning how to move forward.

If You’re Grieving Through a Milestone Too

I want you to know this:

You’re not doing it wrong.

You’re not ungrateful.

You’re not “stuck.”

You’re simply human.

Grief doesn’t ruin milestones. It reshapes them.

It teaches us to feel everything fully, even when feelings contradict each other. It reminds us that love doesn’t end just because life has changed.

Ten Years Later

So yes… today is the 10th anniversary of owning my home.

And yes… It’s both beautiful and heavy.

I’m celebrating what I’ve survived.

I’m honoring the life that was.

This house holds it all: the joy, the loss, the rebuilding, the growth. And maybe that’s the real story of homeownership that no one talks about:

It’s not just about owning a home.

It’s about everything life hands you inside it.