My Raw Unscripted Life

The last time I shared my story, I had quit my job and walked away from my relationship. Not out of recklessness, but out of a deep desire to live a life of ease.

I had taken an honest look at my life and noticed where anxiety lived in my body, where I was constantly slipping into fight-or-flight. It became clear that if I wanted something different, I had to release what no longer served me. I needed to make space. Space for ease. Space for love that felt reciprocal. Space for my desires, my passions, and abundance in its many forms: family, tribe, finances, creativity, imagination.

Letting go felt incredible. It still does. Quitting my job was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Walking away from my relationship however, did not.

That came with grief. With pain. For me, the relationship was over. I had made that decision clearly. I grieved it, honored it, and allowed myself the space that choice required. But it hadn’t ended for him. He continued to reach out, calling and checking in, staying present in ways that left me trying to understand what was happening.

I needed clarity. Not to reopen the door, but to make sense of why he was still there. So I went to see him. Not as a return, but as a reckoning. I wasn’t undoing my decision, I was listening. Trying to reconcile what my mind knew with what my body and heart were still processing.

The connection was still present, even though I didn’t yet know what it meant. I only knew that sometimes clarity requires proximity, and that endings don’t always land all at once.

Since then, I’ve noticed something else. Even though emotionally I felt ready for expansion, my body wasn’t there yet. My nervous system still reached for familiarity. The pain I knew felt safer than the unknown ahead. So I began learning how to increase my capacity, how to sit with discomfort a little longer, how to welcome uncertainty instead of resisting it. I stopped judging myself for the moments I reached for comfort. I met myself with grace.

Part of that expansion came through money.

When I walked away from my job, my mortgage had jumped to nearly $4,000 a month. I was exhausted, stressed, working nonstop and still feeling behind. Letting go of my job unlocked something deeper. It released my dependency on employment and reminded me of a truth I had forgotten.

My job is not my source.
I am not my source.
Source is my source.

So instead of trying to force positive thoughts about money, which felt unrealistic, I shifted my focus. Money itself is not my desire. Provision is. Care is. Stability is. Being able to support my father, my children, myself. Paying my mortgage. Having groceries. Taking care of what matters.

I began writing those desires down and letting them go. Feeling them as if they already existed, then returning to my day.

The results were immediate.

The same day I wrote down provision for my daughter, a reimbursement check arrived in the mail in her name. Enough to cover months of support. Days later, while advocating for my father, I discovered benefits he had never accessed, including a $20,000 HSA that exactly matched the escrow shortage that had caused my mortgage to increase. Doors opened not through force, but through alignment.

My daughter is taken care of.
My father is taken care of.
I am taken care of.

This is what ease looks like. Not the absence of challenge, but the absence of panic. Not certainty, but trust. Not control, but surrender.

I am learning that expansion is not just spiritual. It is physical. Emotional. Nervous-system deep. And every time I choose trust over fear, I make room for more.

Source is my source. And that has been enough.