October has been a blur. A beautiful, unexpected, emotionally full blur. I haven’t blogged all month, which is unusual for me because I’ve settled into a rhythm of writing weekly. But sometimes life doesn’t leave much room for documenting it. Sometimes you’re too busy living it.
October started with a family vacation to Virginia Beach. We brought along my youngest son’s best friend and, of course, Koda, our husky. There was also a baby shower in Virginia, celebrating my oldest son’s first child. A beautiful family gathering, filled with anticipation and the kind of excitement that comes with welcoming a new generation. Before leaving, we managed to squeeze in a family dinner at a wonderful restaurant. It was one of those evenings you wish you could bottle up.
Between morning walks, laughter, sunsets, sunrises, ocean waves, and Bad Ass Coffee, life was generous. There was no particular rush to get anywhere. Just family, fresh air, and the kind of joy that reminds you how good it feels to be present. For a little while, everything seemed to be exactly where it needed to be.
And then life shifted.
We left on a Wednesday. By Thursday, the mother and unborn baby were in the hospital. My grandson arrived that Sunday, October 18, 2026. His arrival was miraculous, but his journey home wasn’t immediate. He spent days in the hospital before finally going home to his parents on Friday, October 30.
I’m a praying woman. I believe in God’s covering, timing, and faithfulness. Still, fear and worry have a way of becoming all-consuming when someone you love is waiting on the other side of uncertainty. I found myself remembering every pregnancy, every birth, every labor pain, and every difficult delivery I experienced with my own children. I remembered things I hadn’t thought about in years. There is something about watching your child become a parent that brings your own motherhood back into focus.
Birth is miraculous. It is also vulnerable, complicated, and humbling. I was reminded that gratitude and worry can occupy the same space. That faith doesn’t mean we never feel afraid. Sometimes faith looks like praying, waiting, checking your phone, praying again, and trusting God with what you cannot control.
And then, there was work.
October was full professionally, too. I attended a community engagement event, Bridges & Blueprints, and had the opportunity to speak at an event exploring Mental Health and AI. Both experiences offered something different, but each reminded me that there is still so much to learn, contribute, and build.
My clinical work continued to bring me face-to-face with heartbreak, relationship trauma, grief, and more grief. These past 30 days have held some particularly heavy conversations. I still love what I do. That hasn’t changed. But I am becoming increasingly interested in how we can decrease burnout while continuing to show up for the people and communities who need healing.
I want to keep doing meaningful work without losing myself in the process. I want to explore new ways of supporting people, expanding access, and integrating the things I’m genuinely curious about. And, for the record, I am a geek. I enjoy learning, technology, asking questions, and figuring out how things work. Perhaps that’s another part of my evolution.
Speaking of things that keep me grounded, the horse ranch has become essential.
More visits. More lessons. More horsemanship. More early mornings. There is something about being around horses that asks you to slow down and pay attention. You cannot rush the relationship. You cannot manufacture trust. You have to be present, aware, and willing to learn. Those mornings have become a kind of soul solace for me. A place where I can simply be, without needing to produce, solve, or carry anything for anyone else.
And Bru turned 20 on October 25!
My youngest is no longer a teenager in the way I sometimes still picture him. He’s becoming more of who he wants to be, and watching that unfold with love has been its own experience. He celebrated his birthday rock climbing, which feels fitting. He’s always expanding, exploring, and going deeper. I love seeing him discover what interests him, challenge himself, and create experiences that belong entirely to him.
His soul’s solace might look different from mine, but I recognize the importance of it. We all need something that brings us back to ourselves.
So, yes, October was a whirlwind.
A vacation, a growing family, a new grandson, hospital visits, prayers, professional opportunities, difficult clinical conversations, horses, birthday celebrations, and plenty of moments in between.
I missed a month of blogging, but I didn’t miss a month of living.
Perhaps that’s what I needed to be reminded of.
We spend so much time trying to keep up with our routines, our responsibilities, our goals, and even the versions of ourselves we’ve committed to becoming. Yet life has a way of interrupting our carefully arranged calendars. Sometimes with joy. Sometimes with worry. Sometimes with opportunities we didn’t see coming. And sometimes with a gentle reminder that we need to find our way back to ourselves.
I’m entering November with a grateful heart, a little more awareness of what I need, and a renewed appreciation for the people and places that make life feel full.
I don’t have to catch up on everything at once.
Some months are meant to be lived more than they are written about.
October, you were something else. 💛
Be intentional in your good things.
©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.
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