A little while ago, I wrote a post called Some Honest Truths.
It was probably one of the most vulnerable things I’ve written here in a long time. I talked about stepping away from work, going to therapy every week, navigating this weird emotional season of turning 40, and trying to figure out what I actually wanted my life to look like.
At the time, I told you I felt like I was starting to get my sparkle back.
I still feel that way.
But I think it’s time for a few more honest truths.
Because apparently getting your sparkle back doesn’t mean you suddenly have everything figured out.
First, the good news.
I’ve officially gone from weekly therapy appointments to monthly ones.
And that feels big.
When I first started therapy, I needed that weekly appointment. I needed a dedicated space to unpack things, work through them, and really take a look at how I had been moving through my life.
I’ve done a lot of work since then.
I’m learning how to recognize things before they spiral. I’m learning what I need. I’m learning how to set boundaries. I’m learning that rest is productive sometimes, too. And maybe most importantly, I’m learning that taking care of myself isn’t something I should only do once I’ve taken care of everyone and everything else first.
So going from weekly therapy to monthly feels like progress.
Not a finish line.
Progress.
And I’m really proud of that.
And now for another honest truth: I am on the struggle bus.
I’m working again.
And adjusting to a completely different daily routine after having so much flexibility over the last several months has been…a lot.
There. I said it.
I wanted to go back to work. I’m excited about this new chapter. I’m grateful for the opportunity.
And I am also freaking tired.
Both things can be true.
There’s something really strange about spending months intentionally slowing down, reevaluating your priorities and learning that you don’t want your entire identity to revolve around your career…and then suddenly finding yourself setting alarms, getting dressed for an office, managing schedules, figuring out dinner, trying to get workouts in, keeping up with the house, being present for your kids, nurturing your marriage, creating content and somehow finding a few minutes somewhere in there to just be Allison.
It’s an adjustment.
A big one.
And I haven’t figured it out yet.
Maybe that’s the part we don’t talk about enough when we talk about “starting a new chapter.”
New chapters are exciting.
They’re also disruptive.
Even when the change is something you chose.
Even when it’s something good.
Healing in theory is one thing.
This might be the biggest lesson I’m learning right now.
It’s one thing to sit in therapy and talk about boundaries.
It’s another thing to practice them when your calendar starts filling up again.
It’s one thing to say that you’re going to prioritize yourself.
It’s another thing to actually do it when there’s laundry waiting, someone needs something, you have an email to answer and you’re already thinking about tomorrow’s to-do list.
It’s one thing to decide that you don’t want to live to work.
It’s another thing entirely to figure out how to work—and still protect the life you worked so hard to reconnect with.
That’s where I am right now.
I don’t want to lose the version of myself I found during these past few months simply because life is busy again.
I still want to create.
I still want to talk about fashion.
I still want to write here.
I still want to take care of my body.
I still want to be present with my family.
I still want spontaneous dinners and trips and afternoons when nothing productive happens at all.
I still want a career, too.
I just don’t want any one of those things to consume all the others.
And figuring out how all of those pieces coexist might be the next work I have to do.
And then there’s Chris.
If you’ve been here for a long time, you know that Chris and I have been married for more than 18 years.
That’s a lot of different versions of two people.
We’ve grown up together in so many ways. We’ve moved. We’ve raised babies. We’ve navigated career changes and hard seasons and really beautiful ones. We’ve watched our family grow and change, and somehow we keep finding ourselves standing next to each other as another new version of life begins.
And through this season, he has—as always—been my rock.
Not because he swoops in and magically fixes everything.
But because he makes room for me to figure it out.
He listens.
He reminds me who I am when I need it.
He picks up the slack when I’m overwhelmed.
And after 18+ years of marriage, there is something incredibly comforting about knowing that when life shifts underneath us again, I still have my person standing there beside me.
I don’t take that for granted.
So, where does that leave me?
Somewhere in the middle.
And maybe that’s okay.
I’m not the woman who wrote Some Honest Truths from the very beginning of this process anymore.
But I’m also not standing on the other side with a perfectly color-coded schedule and a five-step morning routine telling you that I’ve cracked the code.
I haven’t.
I’m still figuring out how early I need to wake up.
I’m still figuring out what gets done and what can wait.
I’m still figuring out how much I can realistically put on my plate.
I’m still learning how to protect my peace when life gets loud.
I’m still going to therapy.
Just monthly now.
And I’m still getting my sparkle back.
Maybe that’s what progress actually looks like.
Not a dramatic before and after.
Not waking up one morning as some completely healed, perfectly balanced version of yourself.
Maybe it’s simply knowing yourself a little better than you did before.
Recognizing when you’re slipping into old patterns.
Asking for help sooner.
Letting some things go.
Giving yourself grace when a new routine feels harder than you thought it would.
And remembering that you don’t have to have everything figured out to know that you’re moving in the right direction.
So that’s where I am today.
Working.
Adjusting.
Going to therapy a little less often.
Trying very hard to practice everything I spent the last several months learning.
Being incredibly grateful for the man beside me.
And still making room for the things that make me feel most like myself.
Some more honest truths.
And probably not the last ones I’ll share.
