Happy Friday evening everyone!
How are you doing on this fabulous Friday evening? All is well here in my neck of the woods, in fact, this week was pretty awesome, we got to celebrate my future daughter-in-law’s birthday. We had a wonderful dinner at Yard House. Funny, none of us had steak. It’s always such a blessing celebrating my beautiful girl. She is one special gal in every way possible.
Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to share with you, Jagger’s only been a nurse just a little over a year and she received the Daisy award. The award is a pretty big deal and it’s no surprise that she received it. I’m so beyond proud of her.
(The Daisy Award: The DAISY Award for Extraordinary Nurses is an international program that honors nurses for their compassionate, skilled care, established in 1999 by the family of J. Patrick Barnes in memory of his care. Patients, families, and colleagues can nominate any licensed nurse or student who goes above and beyond, typically recognizing them with a certificate, pin, and sculpture.)
This week, I’ve been in my true element. I’ve been home where I belong. I’ve been writing till my heart’s content and overfilling. With each word, each post, I feel one step closer to beginning my journey as a legacy writer.
Business license in hand. My DBA is now officially posted in the local paper. My business Instagram and Pinterest accounts are up and running. Now, a few more minor details and I’m ready to launch.
My new adventure has and will continue to require not only my attention, but lots and lots of time. I’m grateful and blessed to be able to have a home-based business. I never know when my pain will escalate to unbearable measures or when something triggers my C-PTSD, so working from home allows me the flexibility to hide behind my front door when needed. It allows me to work a schedule that fits my disabilities and not feel the stress and pressure of reporting to anyone, other than myself.
Fingers crossed that my new writing business is not only successful, but more importantly, that it helps people tell their stories too.
Enough about that. Tonight I wanted to expand on some things many, despite age endure through their lives and when you’re midlife facing such obstacles as the one I’m writing about tonight, it’s comforting to know you’re not alone. This is where we build community in midlife. This is where we become stronger, more resilient and a lot less gullible and self-neglected.
There are moments in life when everything looks beautiful on the outside — the dinner table is full, the conversation is easy, the laughter is real — and yet something inside you feels just a little out of place. Not broken. Not dramatic. Just… quietly bruised.
This week reminded me of something I thought I had already healed:
that old ache that shows up when my voice gets brushed aside.
It’s a strange thing, how a simple moment can echo something from years ago. How a tiny dismissal — even unintentional — can tap an old bruise you didn’t realize was still tender. And suddenly you’re not just reacting to the moment in front of you… you’re feeling the weight of every time you were made to feel small, or unimportant, or easy to override.
I think many of us know that feeling.
That subtle shift inside when you realize your wants weren’t considered.
That sting of being excited for something, only to feel like your excitement didn’t matter.
That quiet voice inside whispering, “Maybe I’m not worthy of being prioritized.”
But here’s the truth I’m holding onto now:
My worth isn’t determined by someone else’s choices.
My voice doesn’t become smaller just because someone didn’t hear it.
And my needs are still valid, even when they’re ignored.
I’m learning — slowly, gently — that honoring myself doesn’t require anyone else’s permission. It doesn’t require a perfect response from others. It simply requires me to stay connected to my own heart, even when the world around me gets a little loud.
My trigger wasn’t bad.
It was actually very unintentional, I’m sure.
But it was also a reminder — a soft nudge from the universe — that I still have places inside me that need tending. Places that deserve gentleness. Places that deserve to be heard.
And maybe that’s the real work of midlife:
not pretending we’re unaffected but learning to honor the parts of us that still need healing… even on the days that look perfect from the outside.
And here’s the part I want to say out loud — or in my case, write out loud — because sometimes releasing something onto the page is the only way to let it stop echoing inside you.
I’m not angry anymore. I’m not sitting in hurt. I’m simply acknowledging what happened inside me… and choosing to let it move through instead of letting it settle.
Because that’s what healing looks like in midlife. It’s not dramatic. It’s not loud. It’s not about calling anyone out or demanding they understand.
It’s about recognizing your own emotional landscape and honoring what rises.
It’s about saying, “This touched an old wound,” without shame. It’s about giving yourself permission to feel something — and then letting it go with grace.
And maybe that’s the quiet superpower we develop as we get older:
We learn to hold two truths at once. That a moment can be beautiful and painful. That someone can love us and still miss the mark. That we can feel a sting and still choose softness.
So today, I’m choosing softness. I’m choosing release. I’m choosing to let these kinds of moments teach me instead of harden me.
Because my voice isn’t small. It never was. It just needed me to stop shrinking around people who don’t always know how to hold it.
And if you’ve ever felt that way my friend— overlooked, brushed aside, or quietly dismissed — I hope you know this:
You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to speak your truth. You are allowed to honor the parts of you that still need tending. You are worthy. You are deserving. You’ve earned the right to honor yourselves.
Know this, if you are hurt, bruised or your words are brushed aside, even if you write those things down so they stop the echoing of hurt inside, know those words written are your release, not your revenge. Not you’re telling-off moment, because even if no one else ever reads it. Even if the person it’s about never understands. Even if the healing is something only you will ever feel. You’ve maintained your power and control over your emotions and feelings.
Sometimes the simple act of naming the wound is what finally closes it.
So, here’s to all of us learning to honor our voices again — gently, bravely, and without apology. Our voices may feel small at times, but our strength in overcoming is our power.
Happy Friday evening, friends. May you listen to your heart a little more closely moving forward… and may it remind you just how worthy you’ve always been.
Before we say goodnight, I want to leave you with a gentle invitation:
Take a moment to check in with yourself. Is there something inside you that’s been echoing… quietly asking to be acknowledged? A feeling you brushed aside? A truth you swallowed? A moment that stung more than you admitted?
If so, I hope you give yourself permission to name it — even if only on a page no one else will ever see.
Your voice matters. Your feelings matter. Your inner world deserves space.
If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And if you’re not ready to share publicly, that’s okay — just know you’re not alone in this journey of rediscovering your voice.
Thank you for spending part of your Friday evening with me. Writing pieces like this reminds me why I created both Loving Life and Eternal Echoes — one to celebrate the beauty of everyday moments, and the other to honor the deeper truths that shape us.
Some days we live in the light. Some days we listen to the echoes. Most days, we’re learning to hold both.
Wherever you are tonight, I hope you feel seen, supported, and gently reminded of your own worth.
With love,
Love Life++ Hugs
Dawna-And may a butterfly cross your path when you need a reminder that you’re not alone.
Loving Life • Eternal Echoes
Love Life with Dawna 