Lately, it has been hot, so I decided to do something that would make life a little easier. I cooked a bunch of different meals in the crock pot, put them into containers, and froze them. That way, when the weather is hot, I wouldn't have to do much cooking. Then a flyer came in from the local Mexican market. They had pineapples, plantains, mangoes, watermelon, cucumbers—fresh fruits and vegetables at really good prices. They also had beef shanks. So after the gym, I had my caretaker take me to the store. I already had plenty of food at home. I had meals in the freezer, food in the refrigerator, and everything I needed. I wasn't going to the store because I was running out of food. But when I got there, something happened. I felt happy. The store was colorful and full of fresh food. I could choose one of this, two of that, three of something else. I wasn't limited to whatever quantity happened to come in a package. I could actually look at what I wanted and decide what I wa...
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There was a time not long ago when I didn’t care if I lived or died.
Before my stroke, I was drifting through life — barely holding on. I met a man who mirrored my hopelessness. We bonded over the belief that we were both done. Done trying, done caring, done hoping. And instead of lifting each other up, we became enablers. Drinking, smoking, numbing. Co-signing each other’s pain.
And all the while, I was still showing up. Still photographing other people’s joy — their weddings, their babies, their celebrations. Capturing love and family and connection while quietly grieving the absence of it in my own life.
I hadn’t found my person. I hadn’t built a family. My friends were users, opportunists, clinging to the remnants of my past as a model — not because they loved me, but because they wanted to say they knew me.
Behind my smile was exhaustion. Behind the camera lens, a woman disappearing.
The Stroke That Woke Me Up
Then it happened.
A stroke brought me to my knees. I remember lying on the floor, praying to God not to leave me broken. I begged Him not to take my mind or my ability to move. I promised that if He gave me another chance, I would do something with it.
And here I am.
I survived. I was spared. And I believe now — I was called.
Facing the Truth
The truth is, I had given up long before that stroke. I believed I wasn’t worthy of love, of support, of abundance. I thought I needed to have it all together — the money, the house, the image — before I could be worthy of a good man or a good life. And because I didn’t have those things, I settled. For scraps. For silence. For suffering.
But surviving cracked something open in me.
I’m no longer willing to carry the pain of betrayal, of abandonment, of not-enoughness. I’m done apologizing for needing rest. For wanting love. For desiring wealth and peace and a home that feels like a sanctuary.
What I'm Choosing Now
I am choosing to surrender the old beliefs.
I am choosing to believe that I am worthy — of deep love, of true friendship, of financial overflow. I’m choosing to believe that I don’t need to prove myself to receive. That I can be soft and strong, healing and powerful, creative and abundant — all at the same time.
I'm learning to protect my energy, to charge what I’m worth, and to stop entertaining people who only show up when they need something. I want love that’s peaceful. Friends who pour back into me. Clients who see my value. And money that flows with ease — because I finally believe I deserve it.
Reconnection: The True Gift
When I first started this healing journey, I felt completely disconnected — from my body, from my spirit, and from the world. I felt like I was floating somewhere outside of myself, numb and invisible.
But slowly, through the work, the writing, the crying, the surrender — I started to come home to myself. I started to feel my feet on the ground again. I began to connect — mentally, physically, spiritually.
No, I haven’t made any money doing this work yet.
But I’ve made something more valuable:
I’m making myself whole.
And that, to me, is priceless.
A Message to Anyone Who Feels Like I Did
If you’re reading this and it resonates — if you’ve ever felt invisible, unloved, or stuck — let me tell you this:
You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are not too late.
You are in the in-between — and that’s where miracles are born.
Surrender. Release. Cry it out. Burn the old stories if you need to.
But don’t give up.
Your new life is calling.
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With love and fierce grace,
Jean — Artful Living Coaching
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