I used to think starting over meant failure.
That going back to the beginning meant I’d lost my way, or missed the mark. But I’ve learned something along the way— The beginning is sacred. The beginning is where I met myself. In the pause. In the ache. In the moment I thought I couldn’t try again. There’s a quiet kind of courage in beginning again. A courage that doesn’t need an audience. That doesn’t wait for perfect timing or perfect strength. Just enough hope to try one more time.
So today, I’m not rushing forward. I’m standing still long enough to honor the ground beneath me. To say: “This counts too.” The re-building. The re-thinking. The slow, imperfect unfolding of a brand-new chapter. Because right now, it’s time.
I don’t have to have it all figured out. But I’m still showing up. That’s what matters most.
And that’s how we begin again—with gentleness, kindness, and a splash of grace.
