The quiet ache of wanting my next chapter

Hello everyone,

Come on in. Thank you for stopping by. I’m so glad you’re here — it’s always such a pleasure having these quiet moments where we can sit together and talk. Catching up with you is one of my favorite things to do, so thank you for taking this time to be with me.

Let’s sit for a while. Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea? Hot or cold? I’m enjoying a glass of iced tea this morning and let me tell you, it’s hitting the spot. The heat has been wild these last few days. How about for you? How’s the weather in your neck of the woods? Shoot me a text or drop a comment, let’s catch up.

Time is flying by so quickly. I’ve been busy — not only with my writing, but with doctor’s appointments again. According to my surgeon, I’ve still got issues. She said my esophagitis is terrible, and my esophagus is in really bad shape. They rate the damage from A to D… and I’m sitting somewhere between a C‑ and a D+. At my first appointment, my new GI surgeon looked at me and said, “Your esophagus is angry. It’s extremely inflamed, and you have one of the worst damaged esophagi I’ve ever seen.”

I asked what that meant, and she told me, “We need to try and get you referred back to UCSD and their GI team.” Apparently, they have much more advanced and better care for this type of issue, but for now, the goal is to soothe the inflammation and get things under control. Endoscopies are scheduled every 8–12 weeks. Good news, I don’t usually feel sick, just tired more easily because I don’t eat much. Mostly protein shakes are what my diet consists of. And now I’m on four more medications to help calm everything down.

I’ll keep you posted as things progress. In the meantime, I’m writing, a lot. I’m posting to my other three blog sites, Instagram, Pinterest, and Substack. So if you don’t see me here, you might find me there. Each platform holds its own little corner of my heart, its own focus, its own rhythm. I’d love to have you stop by any of them. I’ve added the links below just in case you want to visit me at one of my other home spaces of writing.

This morning started early — 2:30 a.m. early. Sleep refused to show up for me, and instead of lying in bed playing a game on my phone, I decided to get up and begin my day of writing before heading to my IME appointment in downtown San Diego. You know me… I always add a few things to accomplish in the in‑between. Laundry is nearly done, the front yard is watered, and once I finish this post, I’ll head out back to take care of those plants too.

I think the weight of this afternoon’s appointment is heavier than I realized. Sometimes facing these things alone makes me realize just how strong I actually am. It also helps me reflect on how far I’ve come. I ache for the next chapter of life, fewer doctors, fewer appointments, more peace. But I know there are people who have it far worse than me and my heart hurts for them too.

In these moments of reflection, I can’t help but think about Eternal Echoes and how determined I am to get it launched. There are so many untold stories in this world, and I pray I can help tell as many as possible… leaving behind legacy letters for those fighting unseen battles and life‑threatening illnesses. Eternal Echoes is my calling, and I’m ready for the chapter where my dreams become my reality. Helping others get their words on paper so they don’t get lost in the mix of life and the thereafter.

My next chapter has me writing in spaces I create. Enjoying less chaos and more quiet time. I used to love background noise, not anymore. Now I love the soft hush of my fan blades spinning, the gentle wisp of my curtain moving with the breeze from the air conditioner. Sometimes I close my eyes and picture myself on a tropical island. The only thing missing is the ocean and the crashing waves.

What does your next chapter look like? I’d love to hear about your dreams and passions. I’m here if you want to drop me a comment or shoot me a text.

Right now, I can picture myself in The Villages, not moving there, just visiting. I see myself embracing the legacy stories older folks are longing to tell but don’t know how. I picture myself sitting with residents at Atria, where Aunt Billie is, listening to their decades of life and quietly handing them an envelope filled with their own words, a gift they can leave behind for their loved ones.

In my next chapter of life, I’m an author. A storyteller. A novelist. And I’m doing what my heart is called to do: help others tell their story.

But for today, it’s one of those stacked days, everything piled high on my plate, and that’s okay. I’ll move through each part one piece at a time, like a puzzle waiting to be completed. And the final piece of today’s puzzle will be time with my kids and my beautiful daughters‑in‑love.

Staying focused this morning is a true challenge. The heaviness of the unknown surrounding my neurological IME has my nervous system in overdrive, neuropathy in full bloom. Overthinking is always a thing with me, but I’m doing everything I can to stay on task. I’m choosing to write. So here I am, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here with me, listening as my mind unravels my thoughts, helping the spin settle into a ripple. Just knowing I have you on my side makes the world a better place to be.

Today’s theme: keep moving, keep writing, keep showing up. This mindset is helping me keep the overwhelm from draining me completely. Lately, I’ve been feeling this strange quietness inside myself. Have you ever felt like you just don’t have the energy anymore, but you still have the dreams, the passion, the desire to keep going, yet you keep tripping over your own feet? That’s where I am. Not angry, not irritated… just emptied out. But thank goodness, my passion to leave behind a legacy for my sons is still stronger than the emptiness.

Even in this drained space I’ve found myself in, something in me keeps reaching forward. My mind may feel still from holding too much for so long, but my heart hasn’t stopped moving. My desire to write keeps tugging at me like a quiet calling, reminding me that my next chapter isn’t waiting for me to catch up, it’s unfolding because I’m writing my way toward it.

I can see my next chapter rising in the distance. I just hope it continues to unfold gently, patiently… and that I keep finding the strength to meet it, one word at a time.

As I sit here finishing this little morning conversation with you, I’m reminded that life doesn’t always move in loud, dramatic shifts. Sometimes it changes in the quiet… in the early hours when sleep won’t come, in the moments when we choose to write instead of worry, in the gentle ache of wanting something more. Maybe that’s the beauty of this season: even when I feel emptied out, something in me is still unfolding, still reaching, still becoming. And sharing these moments with you makes the journey feel a little softer, a little lighter, and a lot less lonely.

Thank you for being here with me today. Your presence means more than you know, and I hope wherever you are, you feel a little spark of your own rising too.

PS

Thank you for being here with me today. Your presence means more than you know and I hope wherever you are, you feel a little spark of your own rising too.

Until next time, don’t forget,
Love Life++ Hugs,
Dawna‑Rae — may your heart return to itself again and again.

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