Every July, like clockwork, my body and soul remind me: This is when everything changed.
Back in July 2021, my husband James was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma. I can still see that summer so clearly because it had all the makings of something beautiful. We were knee-deep in adoption paperwork for our son, building a greenhouse, and creating a life that felt solid and soul-aligned. I thought we were entering our blooming season.
But life had other plans. And by "plans," I mean a complete undoing of everything I thought I knew.
The diagnosis came like a sucker punch from the universe. No matter how hard we tried to keep moving forward, that summer became a fork in the road I never wanted to take. And the version of our life we were building? It never got to bloom. And honestly, for a long time, neither did I.
When the Life You Imagined Doesn't Happen
Here's the thing nobody really tells you: sometimes you do everything right, and life still shows up like an emotional support goose; chaotic, hissing, and absolutely not here to help. 🪿
It's not always fair. It's not always a lesson tied up with a pretty little bow. Sometimes, it's just loss. And you're left sitting in the rubble, holding pieces of a life that no longer fits.
And even now, years later, I'll be folding laundry or standing in the garden and BAM 💥 I'm hit with the reality: my old life is really gone. My husband really died. This is really my life now.
Navigating Life's Hidden LEGO Minefield
Lately, I've been navigating what I lovingly call a "personal Hellscape." It's not the dramatic movie trailer kind. It's more like navigating a pitch-black hallway barefoot while stepping on strategically placed LEGOs. 🧱
It's not constant, it's not catastrophic, but wow, when it hits, it HURTS. The kind of pain that makes you pause mid-step, question all your life choices, and mutter, "Really? That's what takes me out today?!"
And then, just like that, you limp forward. Because what else can you do?
Romanticizing the Past Won't Bring It Back (Unfortunately)
It's easy to look back on the "before" and romanticize it until it sparkles. I do it all the time. I miss that life. But here's the tough truth: that version of my life doesn't exist anymore.
What does exist is this moment. Right now. The messy, beautiful, half-blooming chaos that I get to call mine.
And I'm realizing that the lessons I learned from the life that didn't go as planned? They're not wasted. I carry them with me every single day. They're the reason I'm rebuilding; not as the same woman, but as someone who knows what it means to love deeply, lose deeply, and still keep showing up.
To Anyone Who's Feeling Lost Right Now:
Maybe you haven't lost a person. Maybe you've lost a dream, a version of yourself, or the future you thought you'd have. Let me just say: I see you.
It's okay to grieve what was. It's okay to scream internally at the unfairness of it all. And it's okay to start over, even if you don't feel ready.
Life doesn't always bloom on the timeline we expect. But that doesn't mean the growing season is over. Sometimes, it just means you're becoming someone new.
And honestly? That version of you might be more powerful, more grounded, and more you than you ever imagined.
So here's to blooming in unexpected seasons. Even when it hurts. Even when it's messy. Even when the plan completely unravels.
Because maybe, just maybe, the life that's still unfolding is the one that was meant for you all along.
Let's Talk:
If you've ever had a moment where life went completely off script, I'd love to hear about it. Drop a comment below or come hang out with me over on Instagram @onthecreekblog. Let's remind each other that we're not alone, especially on the hard days.
🖤 Tiff
Shop related items. As an Amazon Influencer, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thank you so much for supporting the blog!
2. Journal
4. Cozy Blanket