The Year I Got Quiet

Just over a year ago – my life shifted again. And then again and again.

I talked about it in my book, but if you haven’t read it, you may not realize that my marriage was the only real assemblance I had of “family” in the typical sense of the word. When I got divorced, I seemingly lost many of my married friends too. He met someone immediately and they became that replacement couple. It didn’t cease all at once but faded slowly over time, like the lights dimming at the end of a movie. And when you’re single and reinventing yourself, you’re just not in the same zone anymore. Maybe it’s uncomfortable for them. Maybe it’s uncomfortable for you. Either way, it happens. Sucks, but it’s okay.

Throughout the six years since, I really struggled finding support that felt like home. I struggled to fit in around so many variables — some warranted, some not. Some people I pushed away, others just didn’t fit no matter how hard I tried.

And I found myself, a year ago, once again at a point of utter loneliness. After calls went unanswered and emotional reciprocation ran dry, I hit that familiar ache of I just need someone to be there. Overwhelmed, I started reaching out to a few people — not to fill the void, but to remind myself that connection still existed. These were different people.

One conversation lit a spark and I found myself taking a drive up north to see my cousin, and it changed literally everything for me. The first night I was there, we sat around a fire on a beautiful fall night — wine in hand, laughter spilling between stories — and it was hard to hold back the tears beneath my smile because it had been so long (years) since I’d felt that kind of company. That warmth. That belonging. I didn’t realize how deeply I’d missed it until it was right there again.

When It’s Meant for You, It Won’t Be Confusing

There was a time I thought connection had to be complicated. That if something mattered, it had to come with mixed signals, waiting, uncertainty, or the constant question of whether I was enough. I used to hold onto people, opportunities, and situations that kept me guessing — because I thought love or loyalty meant staying hopeful even when it hurt.

But lately… I’ve been learning something new.

Peace doesn’t have to be earned.
Support doesn’t have to be chased.
And what’s meant for you — won’t leave you questioning your worth.

Previous years had been full of in-betweens. People who drifted in and out. Moments of wondering if I was asking for too much or expecting too little. Relationships that felt familiar, but not grounded. I realized that inconsistency can’t coexist with the kind of love and partnership I’m building in my life — both personally and professionally.

When someone (or something) truly aligns with you, there’s no confusion. There’s effort. There’s honesty. There’s a sense of “I see you” — not “I’ll keep you guessing.”

In the middle of all that uncertainty, I started paying attention to who did show up.

The friend who checks in when I go quiet.
The client who says, “I trust you.”
The women who come to my events and look at one another with recognition — not competition.

That’s the thing about growth: when you stop watering what drains you, you make room for what nourishes you.

The roots I’ve planted over the past year are finally growing — in my friendships, my work, my community. I’m surrounded by people who genuinely want to see each other rise. And that’s not luck — that’s cultivation. I created it. I nurtured it. I stayed true when it would’ve been easier to shut down.

Support doesn’t always come from where you expect. Sometimes it’s the new connection that blossoms into friendship, the client who becomes a collaborator, or the woman who comes to one event and suddenly feels seen for the first time in months.

That’s what my community is — a reminder that we’re not meant to do this alone.
We’re meant to find our people.
To hold space for one another’s growth.
To remember that it’s okay to outgrow confusion — and step into clarity, peace, and grounded love.

What are you still trying to make sense of that might not actually be meant for you?
And where in your life are you already being supported — even if it looks different than you expected?

Another book reference — or if you’ve been around for a while — for nearly a decade, I could easily go weeks without sitting on my couch. Keeping myself “busy” so I didn’t have to be idle. It’s had its ebbs and flows. Some seasons “busier” than others, some seasons spent in utter exhaustion — and that’s where I stayed too.

But as I’ve been dialing back the grind this year and settling into being less “busy,” I’ve been learning what stillness feels like. I’ve been ending my workday earlier and sitting on my couch. Working on a little project (painting), or trying to find something good to watch, or reading a book. And yet, even still — some weeks, I arrive at a Thursday or Friday night thinking, “What the fuck am I going to do with myself the entire time?”

And that’s part of it — learning how to be with yourself in those quiet spaces – every new step of the way. Not running from them. Not trying to fill them. Just learning to sit in them, breathe through them, and realize that the peace I used to chase is actually right here, waiting for me to slow down long enough to feel it. And I tell you, it feels better and better each time. It gets easier, and then better again,

2025 has been an amazing year of adventure – from publishing my first book, to dozens of community events, to jumping on a plane and trekking across the country, to “losing it all” on a new level, to meeting countless new faces, many, many, many hugs (we manifest what we want, right?), to backpacking for days with complete strangers, pouring my heart into so many clients, to tow trucks and beyond. I’m proud of myself. And we still have a few months to go!

What are you waiting for?

XO,

Laura