Radiant Second Act

  Photo by  Jonathan Kemper  on  Unsplash Let me just cut to the chase, friend:  arguing with a narcissist is like wrestling a greased-up pig in the middle of a circus — while blindfolded.  You’re going to end up exhausted, confused, covered in emotional goo, and wondering how the hell you even got in the ring in the first place. If you’re here, chances are you’ve already tried. Maybe you thought you could reason with them, lay out your feelings clearly, get to the root of the issue like two emotionally intelligent grown-ass adults. But no. Instead, you ended up spiraling in a twisted word salad with a side of blame-shifting and gaslighting for dessert. Here’s what I  wish  someone had told me before I wasted years of oxygen and sanity trying to argue with someone whose ego is more fragile than a dollar store wine glass. 1. You’re Not Arguing. You’re Performing in Their One-Man Show. Newsflash: Narcissists don’t argue to resolve things. They argue...

  Ladies. Gather ‘round. I’ve got some real talk for you—the kind of convo we should be having over mimosas, dark chocolate, and hot flashes. Because nobody warned me about this wild hormonal rollercoaster called perimenopause , and honey, I was NOT ready when it slapped me in the face like a hormonal ninja in the night. Let’s be clear—this is not your grandma’s “change of life.” This is a full-blown, no-mercy, rage-filled carnival ride with surprise facial hair and a side of existential dread. The Sneaky Start (a.k.a. "Wait, What’s Happening to Me?") I remember the first time I felt something was off. I was standing in the middle of Target (as one does), holding a bottle of shampoo, and suddenly—sweat. POURING down my back like I was running a marathon in a sauna. Then came the rage. A man child in his thirties cut me off with his cart, and I actually fantasized about smacking him with a loofah. I wasn’t just irritable. I was possessed . But still, no one said ...

  “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” → Lies. Croissants exist. Once upon a time — back when I could eat an entire pizza, wash it down with a margarita, and still slip into my jeans like a rom-com heroine — I had no idea the betrayal that awaited me. Oh honey, I was living my best metabolism-fueled life. Until… dun dun dunnn…  midlife. And let me tell you, when my metabolism decided to peace out, it didn’t give me a heads-up. No “Hey girl, we’re slowing things down.” No memo. No gentle fade. Just one day,  bam!  I gained three pounds from sniffing a bagel, and my jeans started gaslighting me. “Did we shrink in the wash?” they whispered smugly. No, Susan. You just forgot what carbs can do after 40. Welcome to the Midlife Metabolism Mutiny Nobody warns you that weight in your 40s and 50s is a whole different beast. (Or if they do, us hot and busy 20 and 30 year olds aren’t listening — “Stop whining Karen and blaming your muffin top on your hormones — it’s you!”) I...

  Let’s talk about something real for a minute. Starting over in midlife isn’t just about updating your résumé or moving into a new place. It’s emotional. It’s exhausting. It’s scary. Especially when you’re rebuilding after a toxic relationship. You’re not just trying to create a new life—you’re trying to remember who you even are. And for so many of us, that journey is tangled up in a really toxic belief system that we didn’t even realize we had: Scarcity mindset. You know what I’m talking about... There’s never enough money. I don’t have the time or energy to start over. It’s too late for me. I’m just not cut out for success, happiness, or peace. I lived in that space for way too long. Years of emotional and financial manipulation had worn down my self-worth. I was constantly in survival mode—just trying to get through the day, terrified to hope for anything more. Dreaming felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. But deep down, I knew there had to be more than ...