Be Mindful

One of the most important things I’ve learned is to be mindful of others. A kind word or a listening ear can be a lifeline for someone who feels like they’re drowning. Suicide is painfully real, and no one ever says, “Well, I saw that coming.” Loneliness is one of the adversary’s greatest tools, especially in a world where technology gives us the illusion of connection while so many people live in emotional and spiritual isolation.

If you’re struggling, know this: It’s going to pass. What matters isn’t what’s on you—it’s what’s in you. What lies behind us and what lies ahead are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.

And if you’re not struggling, look around. There’s someone near you who needs help. Maybe it’s a kind word, a small act of service, or just a reminder that they’re not alone. Loving and serving others is the greatest key to happiness.

So, if you’re not “getting,” start giving. You’ll be amazed at how much you receive in return. Keep negativity out of your heart, forgive people who don’t deserve it, and love others—even when it’s hard.

We all have our demons to fight, but together, we can lift each other. Sometimes, all it takes is a little kindness to change a life—and maybe even save one.

I Miss the Me that Wrote Regularly

 Twelve years ago, life was a relentless storm, and I often wondered if it would ever calm down. Divorce had thrown me into uncharted waters, and for the longest time, I felt like I was barely staying afloat. But now, standing on the other side of it all, I can finally breathe. Life didn’t stop being hard—it just shifted, evolved, and taught me how to navigate its challenges.

Once upon a time, we lived in a tiny 395-square-foot studio on Lake Mead and Jones in North Las Vegas. It wasn’t just small; it was suffocating at times, a constant reminder of how close we were to losing everything. Survival wasn’t just a mindset—it was our daily reality. But somehow, in that cramped little space, we found resilience. And today? Today, we’re thriving.

My life looks completely different now. I’m technically unemployed, but that’s just because I’m gearing up to open a meal prep franchise this year—a dream I’m ridiculously excited about. And that’s not all. I’ve stepped into real estate investing, something I never imagined I’d do. Just this month, I loaned out $450,000 for projects. It still feels surreal to write that.

The kids have their own cars, and they’re paid for. My car? Paid for too. We’re still renting, though, because I’m waiting for the day I can buy my dream home with cash. Maybe that sounds silly, but when you’ve spent years never knowing if you were going to lose everything, caution becomes second nature. I don’t spend according to what I could—I spend according to what I’ve learned.

My greatest wish is simple: for me and my kids to be happy, to love life, and to bring joy to the people we touch. And I’m so grateful—beyond words—to finally be here. I always believed we’d make it to the other side, but I didn’t always know for certain if we would. Gratitude has been my anchor, my constant companion through this journey.

The kids have grown into incredible young adults. Lane is a junior in high school, navigating life with a quiet determination. Madi has embraced online school, charting her own path with independence and focus. And Porter? He’s at the University of Nevada, Reno, working full-time at Tesla and refusing to take out loans for college. Together, we made that happen—debt-free education.

Lately, I’ve been revisiting my old blog. There’s something grounding about those words, a reminder of the struggles that shaped us and the lessons that built us. It’s humbling, really. I want to capture these stories, not just for me but for the kids and grandkids we’ll have someday. Maybe, just maybe, our story can help someone else when life feels unforgiving.

Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: storms don’t last forever. They shape you, mold you, and if you’re lucky, they leave behind a story worth telling.

P.S. As for the men in our life...Brant has been diagnosed with COPD Stage 4. His future is uncertain. Devon moved out of the house in October of 2023. I'm still standing though and grateful for my good health.