Reflections on a year of change

Hello, stranger.

It’s been a while. I hope you’re all enjoying the Thanksgiving weekend. It’s hard to believe that almost a year has passed since my last post. So much has happened that I hardly know where to begin. What a year it’s been!

I often remember encouraging you all to close your eyes and jump in, as I have written about in “In this Life,” “The Year I Left,” and “My Goodbye Girl.” These stories all revolve around the theme of following your heart and seeking joy. The loss of many loved ones this year has made that message even more meaningful to me. Each year, as I grow older, I feel an even stronger urge to live out that truth.

Let’s start from January. The emotional exhaustion from staying too long in my current job became impossible to ignore. I cherished my workplace, appreciated the kind colleagues, and certainly enjoyed the pay, but I felt something was missing. Making a real impact mattered more to me than any perks. The constant resistance I faced began to take a physical toll, manifesting as heart palpitations and rapid weight and hair loss. I knew I had to make a change, but the next steps would not be easy.

I reached out to one of my mentors and was offered a position immediately. Yet, I found myself unable to make the move, paralyzed by the comfort and lifestyle my job afforded me. Over the past ten years, I had invested so much in my books—releases, trips, and marketing. All of that weighed on my decision.

By March, I was on blood pressure medication and had lost over ten pounds. My loved ones grew concerned, and I was more worried about them than myself because I wasn’t ready to leave. In April, another call shifted my perspective: “I still can’t afford to pay you what you want, but what if…” That same month, a trip to London for a reunion with my best friends coincided perfectly. When I visited the London office of my potential employer, I felt an immediate sense of warmth, respect, and support. It was clear I would be valued if tasked with turning a profit.

Afterward, my family and I had many discussions. Budgets would need to be reduced, and our lifestyle would have to shift drastically. I remain deeply grateful to have a job, especially when so many—including my adult children—are struggling to find work. Still, the difference was enough to give us pause.

Most importantly, I found myself wondering: Aren’t I too old to be starting over at this stage in my life? But then I realized—how amazing is it that someone wants to hire me, regardless of where I am in my journey?

In the end, I accepted the job.

As we all know, no matter how many great relationships you build or how key you are to a company’s success, a resignation can change everything. Suddenly, you become the outsider, the traitor. Your status shifts from extraordinary to ordinary. Emotions run high and things can feel awkward. You can’t wait to leave, but professionalism prevails, and you do everything you can to ensure a smooth transition. That’s what I did in June.

Even though I was fortunate to have Open Road Media release the paperback of “Somewhere Along the Way,” my work commitments kept me from media interviews and promotions. This hurt the book’s success, despite its great reviews and interest from Hollywood. I had to prioritize what mattered most: my career and my reputation.

Summer arrived quickly, and in July, I began my new job. I tried to hit the ground running while also preparing for my oldest son’s wedding, working with the planner to ensure everything was perfect, and striving to be a supportive, non-intrusive mother of the groom. August brought another joyful milestone—celebrating the love between my son and daughter-in-law, surrounded by family and friends. My sisters traveled from the Philippines and Canada, and everyone who mattered most joined us in dancing, singing, and making memories that will last a lifetime.

Our family has slowly settled into new routines: the newlyweds are house-hunting, my daughter is dating again, and my son has returned to school at MSU Denver.

My new job now occupies almost all of my waking hours, but that’s what makes me thrive. I feel energized and inspired, supported by my husband, family, and the people I work with every day. There is nothing better than collaborating with familiar faces—my boss, colleagues, and peers—many of whom were friends and coworkers in the past. It feels like we’ve reunited the band, and together, we are accomplishing great things. I am finally using my skills to their fullest, feeling comfortable and proud to be part of the company’s ongoing evolution. As a result, I’ve regained the weight (not ideal), received a diagnosis for my hair loss, and am feeling better with proper blood pressure management. As in life and in every family, we have our shares of ups and downs. And we will never be perfect. (aka shopping 🙂 How we manage through many of these situations remain subjective, every event becomes a lesson to be learned.

I cherish the small moments of happiness, like watching Netflix and Hulu on weekends or sharing TikTok links and regular phone calls with my kids. My passion for writing, which had faded for a time, is returning. This blog post marks the start, and my next goal is to finish the edits for “One Day Like the Rain” as requested by my publisher. “Match Made in Paris” is halfway complete, and I may return to it after finishing “Rain.” Plus, Kris Polaha and I are dedicated to publishing our third book in the Kona Series by 2027. I can’t spend much on promotions or marketing anymore, but I know that our loyal readers will always be around. And that’s what matters most to me.

Each day, I live with a grateful heart—thankful for my children’s and family’s health and for the trust you all have placed in me. I am still amazed to see two contracts awaiting my signature in my inbox—opportunities I will never take for granted. I approach these commitments thoughtfully and cautiously, knowing when to say no to new obligations.

Sometimes, I find happiness in simply doing nothing. Occasionally, I decline speaking invitations (though I’ve done three this year, LOL) because quiet moments with my husband and children are more precious as time seems to fly by. I also allow myself moments to grieve and remember those who are no longer with me. I think of them daily and find comfort in the belief that I will see them again someday.

Finally, here is my Thanksgiving wish for you: Stay brave in your convictions because you deserve to be happy. Surround yourself only with people who bring you joy. Continue investing in those you love and who love you in return—wholeheartedly.

And most importantly, always remember:

The best time to do something you’ve always wanted to do is NOW.