Healing doesn’t always start with a diagnosis. Sometimes it starts with a whisper — a nudge that says, “Something has to change.”
This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.
The beginning of paying attention. Of noticing what your body has been trying to tell you for years. Of honoring your energy, your desires, your dreams.
It’s the beginning of listening — maybe for the first time in a long time — to you.
I’ve been there. In the messy middle. Burned out. Sick. Trying to keep all the pieces of my life together while my body and soul were unraveling.
I had to come to terms with who I really was — outside of all the titles and roles. Nurse. Mom. Caregiver. Professional. I realized I was more than the job that was draining me. More than the identity I clung to. I needed to re-invent myself.
At 50, I finally did something I’d always dreamed of: I wrote a book. First, I collaborated with 26 incredible women in The Truth About Success. Then I published my own: Confessions of a Hospice Nurse — The Journey of Life and Death and the Lessons in Between.
That creative expression was part of my healing. So was slowing down. (Although, let’s be honest — my body forced me to slow down.)
I had ignored the signs: the chronic hives, the fatigue, the brain fog. I pushed through until I couldn’t anymore.
Walking away from my job wasn’t easy. But it was necessary. I realized the company I gave everything to would replace me in a heartbeat. They didn’t even honor a $600 bonus I had earned. That told me everything.
My health had suffered. My family had been impacted. My soul was tired.
So I chose me.
And five years later, I can say this: I feel better than I have in decades. My health is thriving. My energy is back. And I’m doing work that aligns with my purpose.
If you’re at a breaking point — or a beginning — I want you to know: it’s okay to re-invent yourself. It’s okay to start again. It’s okay to listen to the whisper.
This isn’t your end. It’s your beginning. And choosing you might just be the most powerful decision you ever make.
Rachel xoxo
Love what you read here? Subscribe for updates — your reset starts here.
Follow me on social:
Sometimes quitting isn’t weakness — it’s wisdom.
We don’t hear this enough, but here’s the truth: sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk away.
From a job. From a role. From a version of yourself that no longer fits.
That’s exactly what I did.
Burned out and exhausted, I knew I couldn’t keep going the way I had been. Hospice nursing had taken its toll. My body was breaking down. My sons had all moved out. And I found myself standing in the rubble of every role I had once used to define me.
Caregiver. Nurse. Mom. Provider.
I didn’t just nearly walk away — I leapt. Not because I had it all figured out. But because I knew something had to change. I knew I couldn’t keep putting myself last.
For the first time in a long time, I focused on myself. On healing. On rest. On finding joy in small habits and nourishing routines. I let myself grieve what I left behind — and made space for who I was becoming.
And at 50 years old, I can honestly say: it was the best decision I ever made.
Reinvention isn’t easy. But neither is staying stuck in something that’s draining the life out of you.
If you’re facing a shift, a crossroads, a quiet question deep inside — maybe this is your nudge. You don’t have to prove anything. You just have to choose what matters now.
You’re allowed to walk away from what’s not working. You’re allowed to start again.
In peace,
Rachel
Love what you read here? Subscribe for updates — your reset starts here.
Follow me on social:
We love a good before-and-after. But the truth? Most healing happens in the messy middle.
You know the highlight reels — “I used to feel terrible, now I feel amazing.”
But we don’t talk enough about the part in between. The part where you try something new and… nothing changes. Or where you get better for a bit, then backslide. Or when you have a breakdown in your car because you’re just so tired of not feeling like yourself.
That was me.
In the messy middle, I was completely burned out from my hospice job. My health was at its worst — brain fog, joint pain, chronic hives, and severe fatigue. On top of that, all three of my sons moved out within six months of each other. My day-to-day role as "mom" shifted dramatically. And I was in the thick of an identity crisis.
I knew I had to leave hospice or I was going to end up becoming a patient myself. But walking away wasn’t easy. It wasn’t a single decision — it was an entire unpeeling. Like an onion with layers of grief, burnout, guilt, and loss.
By choosing to take care of myself, I had to let go of how I used to care for others. I wasn’t going to be “nurse Rachel” in the same capacity. I wasn’t going to be “mom” in the way I had been. And that came with grief.
There were days I felt like a fraud — a nurse who couldn’t fix herself. Days I gave up. Days I tried again. And again.
What I wish someone had told me then was this: the middle isn’t failure. It’s not proof that what you’re doing isn’t working. It’s just part of the process.
Small shifts matter. Quiet wins matter. Showing up for yourself on the days no one sees you? That matters most.
You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going.
If you’re in the middle right now, I see you. You’re not behind — you’re in progress.
Rachel xoxo
Love what you read here? Subscribe for updates — your reset starts here.
Follow me on social:
Expectations are tricky! Sometimes they can be a positive thing to have in our life and motivate us to do better and be better, but other times they can wreck havoc on our relationships and cause all kinds of problems!
I have found that...
Read more...
