Grace, Beginning Again

I didn’t plan for any of this to happen all at once.

The podcast.

The writing.

The return to practice instead of performance.

The decision to keep showing up even on the days I don’t feel clear or confident or ready.

But here we are.

Grace Lives Here is a new podcast I released this week, built around writing, reflection, and lives interrupted.

Grace Lives Here exists now.

Because I needed somewhere to tell the truth.

My truth.

Somewhere that didn’t ask me to have it all figured out before I began.

For a long time, I stopped trusting myself creatively.

I stayed busy.

I stayed functional.

I told myself I’d come back to the work when I felt like myself again.

When things made more sense.

When life settled down.

It didn't.

But what brought me back wasn't finding clarity. It was necessity.

Sometimes finding yourself again doesn’t happen after the hard parts are over.

Sometimes it happens right in the middle of them.

This podcast, this blog, this return to writing by hand and practicing instead of producing content, is part of that remembering for me.

I’m not trying to become someone new.

I’m trying to remember who I was and let her live here too, even if the work comes out messy and unfinished.

Some days that looks like recording an episode and forgetting to tell anyone it exists.

That's a funny story for another day.

Some days it looks like sitting with a notebook and writing anyway, even when my brain feels tired or scattered or unsure.

Some days it looks like pushing through resistance. Other days it looks like resting and trusting that it still matters.

What I’m learning is that practice doesn’t require certainty. It requires presence.

It asks us to meet ourselves where we are and keep showing up without turning every hard day into a verdict.

Grace Lives Here is an extension of that practice.

A place for writing and reflection.

For lives interrupted. For meaning-making as we live it, not after.

This space, Second Story Studios, is becoming something similar.

Not a destination to somewhere we've already arrived, but a place to begin again.

To tell the truth.

To let our stories unfold at their own pace.

I don’t know exactly where this will lead yet.

But it feels like Grace, beginning again.

And that is a beautiful place to start.