resilience

When the Universe Closes a Door, You Learn to Trust the Path

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There was a time I wanted the Universe to give something back to me, a love I wasn’t ready to lose. I kept hoping the door that closed would open again. But it never did. And for a while, that hurt more than I could explain.

It took me a long time to realize maybe the Universe wasn’t being cruel. Maybe it was protecting me. Maybe it knew I needed time to find myself again, to stop pouring so much energy into trying to understand someone else and start putting that same energy into healing my own heart.

When your heart breaks, it changes you. It makes you look at things differently. You start to notice where you gave too much, where you accepted less than you deserved, and where you confused chaos for connection. You start to see how often you held on when you should’ve let go.

I used to think healing meant forgetting. Now I know it’s more about remembering, remembering who I was before I lost myself in someone else. It’s learning to sit with my feelings instead of running from them, to find peace in quiet moments, and to trust that every ending has a purpose, even when I can’t see it yet.

There are still days when I miss what I thought my life would look like. That’s okay. Healing doesn’t mean the memories stop showing up. It just means they don’t control you anymore.

Now, when a door closes, I don’t chase it. I pause. I breathe. I remind myself that not everything that ends is meant to be lost. Sometimes, it’s just the Universe making room for something better, peace, clarity, and a deeper kind of love that starts within me.

Trusting the path isn’t always easy. Some days, it’s just one step at a time. But even in the hardest moments, I can feel something bigger guiding me forward. And for now, that’s enough.

If a door has closed for you recently, maybe it’s not the ending it feels like. Maybe it’s the Universe quietly shifting things to protect your peace, even if you don’t understand why just yet. Be gentle with yourself while you wait for what’s next. Sometimes, the hardest goodbyes lead to the most peaceful beginnings.

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If this post resonated with you or made you feel a little less alone on your own path, you’re always welcome to support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing real stories and new chapters, one step at a time: 👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele

Uprooted, Adjusting, and Now Learning to Heal

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I feel like my whole life’s been flipped upside down lately. I packed up everything and moved 2,700 miles away from the place I called home for the last 27 years, all because I wanted a better future for me and the kids. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect the small things to get to me the way they have.

Take the water, for example. Not only does it taste off, but I don’t like all the stuff in it — the chemicals, the fluoride, the PFAS. It just doesn’t sit right with me. So I started filtering the water in the kitchen and even went as far as buying distilled water jugs for the bathrooms so we could brush our teeth with something cleaner. I even bought filters for the shower heads. It might sound over the top, but honestly, it gives me peace of mind.

Even with all that, I probably drink less water than I should. And now I’m realizing how much that might have been catching up with me. Yesterday I ended up in the ER for seven hours. They ran everything — bloodwork, urine sample, CT scan — and finally told me what was going on: diverticulitis.

So here I am on a three-day broth diet, on top of 10 days of antibiotics, and after that, I’ll have to completely change the way I eat. No corn. No popcorn. A whole list of things I’ll have to avoid forever. Which feels overwhelming, because I was already so limited with food. I’m gluten intolerant, allergic to chicken, and my body just rejects a bunch of other things. Now it feels like I’ve got to become a full-on food cop with myself just to stay healthy.

It’s exhausting. I already gave up so much by moving, and now my body is asking me to give up even more. But at the same time, I don’t really have a choice. If I want to be here for my kids and actually thrive in this new chapter, I have to figure out how to work with it.

I never imagined my “fresh start” would look like this — standing in my kitchen sipping broth, keeping mental tabs on everything I can’t eat, popping antibiotics, while giant jugs of distilled water sit in the bathroom. But here I am. And honestly? All I can do is take it day by day, and try to see it as part of the journey I was meant to be on.

☕ Support the Journey

If this post resonated with you or made you feel a little less alone on your own path, you’re always welcome to support my writing with a cup of coffee. Your kindness helps me keep sharing real stories and new chapters, one step at a time: 👉 coff.ee/smalltownmichele