Finding My Joy Again: A Letter of Gratitude

This year has been a blur — the kind where the months move faster than your heart can keep up and suddenly it’s November and you’re like, wait… what just happened? But here I am, looking around and realizing that life feels good again. Really good. And I felt the pull to write something I haven’t written in ages: a gratitude letter, right here on the blog. Like the good old days.

That hit me the other night when we put up our Christmas tree a little early. (A perk of sharing holiday content — I get to enjoy it longer, haha!) Baby B looked at the lights and let out the sweetest little “WOOOW!” And now he says it randomly — mid-play, mid-snack, whenever the twinkle catches his eye. Every time, his little voice does something to me. It’s pure magic.

It hit me again the other morning in the car. I had just dropped him off, caught every green light during rush hour and suddenly realized I wasn’t tense, anxious, clenching my jaw or bracing myself for the day. I actually felt excited! I felt it in my chest, not my head. That might sound small, but to me? It was everything.

Things feel softer right now.
Home feels good.
Motherhood feels sweet.
My marriage feels more connected.
*I* feel more connected.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel content and not “looking” for something to make me whole

I’m still figuring out my routines and my energy (new mom survival mode doesn’t disappear overnight), but I can feel the shift. I can feel myself settling back into my body and my joy in ways I didn’t realize I’d missed. And maybe it’s because of all that softness, or maybe it’s because this time of year makes everything feel nostalgic.

What This Year Really Was

So much happened this year. Beautiful things. Hard things. Quiet things. Things that stretched me, softened me, reshaped me and asked me to grow.

There were moments of loss early on in the year — the kind you carry quietly.
Moments of sickness that took me (and Baby B, too) out longer than I wanted to admit.
Moments where I felt disappointed in myself for dropping the ball with people I love.
Moments where old wounds mixed with new triggers and left me spiraling.

But there were also moments of healing.

The kind that sneak up on you in the middle of a normal day and remind you that you’re still here, still growing, still becoming.

And somewhere in that mix, I found the other side.

I don’t feel like I’m “going through it” anymore.
Not in the pits.
Not bracing for the next hit.
Not pretending I’m okay when I’m barely holding it together.

Just… here.
Softer.
Calmer.
Steadier.
More myself.

The Small Joys That Anchored Me

If motherhood has taught me anything, it’s that joy is rarely loud. It’s in the tiny moments:

• Nat King Cole before bed — Our nightly ritual that warms the whole house. Here’s the playlist if you want to join us.
• The bougie pillow spray I treat myself to, because little luxuries matter
• Friday happy-hour dates with my husband, even on days we annoy each other
• Baby B’s hugs — the way he holds my face, pulls me close and opens my heart
• The feeling of coming back online after days where I didn’t think I could
• Getting excited about my work again and sharing that with you
• Long walks when I’m spiraling
• Lighting candles, enjoying a glass of wine, playing music, decorating for the season
• Creating a home that feels like love without having to edit myself.

These tiny joys carried me more than I realized.

A Moment That Showed Me I’m Okay

Not long ago, I had a really hard day…one of those days where all your unprocessed emotions try to sit in your lap at once. I was triggered in ways I didn’t expect. I cried. I spiraled. I thought, not this again.

But instead of shutting down like the old me would’ve, I chose differently.

I listened to affirmations.
I ate something nourishing.
I took a walk.
I wrote down how I was feeling.
I checked in with myself.

And by the end of the day I thought,
“Wow, I’m okay. I’m really okay!”

That moment showed me how much I’ve grown.
It showed me how deeply I know myself now.
It showed me that healing is happening, even when I’m not naming it.

What Gratitude Means to Me Right Now

Gratitude, in this chapter, isn’t a list. It’s awareness. It’s presence. It’s taking nothing for granted.

The heat in my home on a cold day.
The food on my plate.
The laughter echoing through my living room.
The grace my husband gives me.
The relentless hope of my son, building another tower every time the previous one falls.

It’s the reminder that my story isn’t over.
That things can shift at any time.
That light can return.
That joy can return.
That *I* can return.

If You’re Still in Your Hard Season

Please hear me: Keep going. And if you’re not okay, say that.

You’d be surprised what happens when you stop pretending and how freeing honesty feels. You’d be surprised how many people will meet you where you are.

Sometimes saying “I don’t got this” is the most powerful thing you can do.

What I’m Carrying Into the New Year

As I look ahead, I’m excited. Truly excited.

I want more joy.
More opportunity.
More connection.
More softness.
More rest.
More moments that make me say “wow” the way Baby B does.
More moments where I choose myself, even when it scares me.

I want to keep giving fewer f*cks about what doesn’t matter.
I want to keep forgiving myself.
I want to keep letting go of the past, the parts that can’t be changed.
And I want to keep honoring my mom by living the kind of life she raised me to live.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for walking with me.
Thank you for witnessing this version of me… the steadier one, the softer one, the joyful one, the one who made it through the blur and found her light again.

With love,
Kachet