I have learned that if I don’t pause long enough to name what I’m doing, life will simply keep happening to me.
And while there is nothing wrong with surviving seasons, I am no longer willing to live only in reaction mode.
This year, I am choosing intention.
Not perfection.
Not aesthetic routines.
Not resolutions designed to be abandoned by February.
Just three things—real things—that I am committing to start, live out, and document honestly. I’m writing them down not because I have them figured out, but because I know someone else is walking this same road and wondering if they’re doing enough.
Here’s what I’m starting.
1. Telling the Truth About Reading at Home
Reading in a home with dyslexia and ADHD is not a quiet child curled up with a book and a cup of tea.
It is frustration. Avoidance. Tears. Resistance. And sometimes—unexpected joy.
This year, I’m choosing to tell the truth about what reading actually looks like in our house.
Some days are wins.
Some days are survival.
Some days, reading doesn’t happen at all—and that has to be okay.
I want to write about the emotional side of literacy that rarely gets talked about: how confidence impacts decoding, how anxiety shuts learning down, and how love and consistency matter more than perfect lesson plans. I want parents to know they are not failing if their child pushes back. They are parenting.
If you are trying to keep your child engaged without breaking their spirit, this space is for you.
2. Showing Advocacy From the Inside Out
Advocacy sounds powerful. It looks inspiring on paper. But living it is often quiet, exhausting, and unseen.
This year, I’m pulling back the curtain.
I will be writing about what it truly takes to advocate for dyslexic children and families—from organizing book drives and events to asking for donations, managing logistics, and carrying the emotional weight of families who are desperate for help.
There are wins worth celebrating.
There are setbacks that sting.
There are days you wonder if it’s making a difference at all.
But it is.
And I believe people need to see advocacy not as a polished outcome, but as a daily choice to show up even when the work feels heavy. If you’ve ever wanted to help but didn’t know where to start—or felt burned out trying—this part of the blog is for you.
3. Learning Who I Am Beyond Survival Mode
For a long time, my life was about getting through the day.
Raising children. Managing schedules. Meeting needs. Putting out fires. Holding everyone else together.
This year, I’m asking a quieter but harder question:
Who am I becoming when I’m not in crisis?
I want to write about growth that happens while life is still messy. About learning to rest without guilt. About healing the younger version of myself while raising children who need so much from me. About faith, boundaries, and learning that becoming whole doesn’t mean everything is calm—it means I’m choosing myself alongside my responsibilities.
This is not about reinvention.
It’s about reclaiming.
Why I’m Writing This Here
I’m writing this blog because I know I’m not alone—and neither are you.
If you are a parent navigating dyslexia or ADHD…
If you are an advocate trying to make a difference without burning out…
If you are exhausted but still hopeful…
This space is for you.
I don’t promise answers.
I do promise honesty.
And this year, I’m writing it down.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to stay.
Read along. Share a post with a parent who needs encouragement. Leave a comment and let me know you’re here—even if your journey feels messy or unfinished.
And if you’re looking for tangible ways to support dyslexic children beyond this space, consider getting involved with Illuminations Center for Dyslexia in Meridian, MS. Through scholarships, tutoring support, book drives, and community programs, we work to ensure children receive the literacy support they deserve—regardless of financial barriers.
Every shared story, donated book, volunteer hour, or contribution helps build confidence in a child who is struggling to read.
You don’t have to do everything.
You just have to do something.
And if today, that something is reading this—thank you.

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