When One Door Closes…
I’ve always believed that when one door closes, another one opens—and that everything happens for a reason. The hardest part, though, is not always knowing what that reason is.
If I had known that would be our last conversation, I would’ve made sure we were somewhere with cell service. I would’ve said more, listened longer, and tucked away every word.
Not knowing the “why” behind those moments—23 years later—can still feel frustrating.
But life has a way of teaching us that endings don’t mean everything disappears. I’m thankful for the last visit we had and the time spent with our kids. Though you haven’t been here physically these past 23 years, you’ve somehow managed to keep showing up in our everyday lives. Our boys talk about you as if you’ve always been here, and maybe in some way, you have—through stories, through memories, and through the pieces of you that shaped us.
What I’ve come to realize is that just because something isn’t how it used to be, doesn’t mean it has to be gone. Parts of us change, grow, and strengthen based on the experiences we’ve lived through. Loss, transition, even unexpected challenges—they shift us. But they also make space for new opportunities: to show up differently, to see life through a new lens, and to carry forward the things that matter most.
That’s the beauty in the closing of one door and the opening of another: we don’t stay the same, and we aren’t meant to.
Instead, we carry what remains, weaving it into the life we’re still building. We keep showing up—for ourselves, for each other, and for the opportunities that remind us that even in change, there is always something to be grateful for.
And maybe that’s the thread that ties it all together—whether it’s navigating a diagnosis, starting over in a new place, or simply learning to live with the tide of change along the coast. Life shifts, but we keep showing up, finding strength in what remains, and hope in what’s still to come.
When It’s Okay to Have Nothing to Say
Some days, the words flow easily. I can write about the coast, real estate, or recent life changes without even pausing to think. But other days… there’s just silence. And for a long time, I thought silence meant I was failing somehow.
We live in a world that rewards constant productivity and instant opinions. I chose a fast-paced career built around relationships and deadlines, so “quiet” can feel like I’m not doing enough. But I’ve learned that those pauses—the ones that can make us squirm a little—are often when the real processing happens.
Whether it’s working through a life change, finding your footing after a hectic week, or just feeling the weight of it all, silence can be a form of healing. It’s a chance for your mind and heart to catch up to everything your body has been racing through.
Sunrise on Topsail Island, NC
This past weekend, I finally picked up my camera again and headed to the beach before dawn. The salty breeze, the rhythm of the waves, and the soft glow of the rising sun created something I hadn’t realized I was missing—space.
Space for perspective.
Space for gratitude.
Space for a deep breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
And here’s the thing: when the words finally return, they’re usually richer, more honest, and more meaningful.
So if you find yourself without much to say today, let that be okay. Watch the sunrise. Walk the beach. Sit in the stillness.
"Your value isn’t measured by how much you say, but by the truth behind your words."
Because when you do speak again, it will come from a place of clarity.
Finding Home
What draws you to a home, a neighborhood, or a town?
Maybe it’s a scenic walking path, an intracoastal water view, a community filled with amenities and social events, or simply open green space. Over these last few years, I’ve realized that what truly makes a place feel like home isn’t just the view or the layout—it’s the connections you build there. A diagnosis can feel isolating, but friends, family, and even a kind stranger can remind you that you’re never really facing it alone.
Lessons Early On
Military life taught me this lesson early on. Every move meant leaving behind friends who had quickly become family and starting all over again. And every time, it wasn’t the new house or the town that anchored us—it was the people.
Camping trips, Bunco nights (let’s be honest, it was more party than Bunco), travel sports, and late-night conversations built bonds faster than any closing date ever could.
These friends, much like family, left an everlasting impression.
Carrying Connection into Real Estate
That same sense of connection has carried into my real estate journey. Over the years, I’ve met clients who turned into friends and friends who became like family.
Relocations—whether it’s a military move, an empty nest or a long-awaited retirement—become more than just a change of address; all share an unspoken understanding of what it’s like to pack up, start fresh, and find your footing all over again.
Whether swapping stories about juggling multiple offers, preparing for the next PCS move, or navigating a tough day, sharing those experiences doesn’t just help—it creates a sense of belonging that feels like home.
Learning to Lean on Others
I used to think I had to carry it all on my own—as if proving I could handle everything made me stronger. As a wife, a mom, a former educator, and now a realtor, that independence felt like part of the job description.
But MS has humbled me in the best possible way. It’s shown me that leaning on my husband, my sons—who are also my incredible real estate team—my friends, and even my clients isn’t a weakness at all. It’s how we keep moving forward, together.
Strength in Community
Buying or selling a home can be stressful. Military moves can be exhausting. Relocation and retirement can feel daunting. Living with MS can be overwhelming. But with the right people around you—those who truly get it and offer support without judgment—you discover strength you didn’t know you had.
Resilience grows when you allow others to show up with you and for you.
Finding Home
This blog is my way of opening a front porch to anyone who needs it—a place where we can share, support, and build a sense of community. It has taken many years and many moves to finally settle in a place we truly call home.
We’ve lived in southeastern North Carolina for the past 15 years. What was once just another stop along our journey has become the place we were meant to land. This is home.
Join the Conversation
I believe we all need a place—and people—who feel like home. My hope is that Showing Up can be that for someone out there reading this.
If you’re simply looking for a space to feel less alone, I’d love to hear from you. Share your story, leave a comment, or subscribe to join this growing community of strength, humor, and hope.
At the end of the day, we all deserve a place where we can show up exactly as we are—and still feel like we’re home.
Where Are My Keys
Let’s talk about brain fog—not the kind where you misplace your coffee, keys, and/or reading glasses (though, been there), but the kind that shows up like an unstable Wi-Fi connection:
a little delayed
a bit fuzzy, but
still gets the job done with a bit of patience and definitely a laugh or two.
Yes, I’m learning to live with these changes—and sure, that means sometimes the gears take an extra second to turn. But let me be clear: while I might forget why I walked into the kitchen, I won’t forget to double-check the lock after a showing, put the key back in the lockbox, confirm your closing date, or negotiate like a pro to protect your best interests.
Honestly, brain fog is starting to feel a lot like an open house —
temporary
doesn’t always follow a schedule
goes a whole lot smoother if I’ve got snacks and a good sense of humor.
How I See Through the Fog
I’ve always been organized but, I’ve learned to build routines that keep me on track, lean into the strengths of my team (aka my husband & my boys), use technology to my advantage, and most importantly—offer myself a little grace when I accidentally call the dog by a client’s name. Life’s messy sometimes. The real trick? Knowing which details truly matter… and which ones get us through the front door.
Let’s be honest—some days, a deep breath of that salty coastal air is the only thing that clears the fog. That’s one of the gifts of living here in southeastern North Carolina.
Sunrises over the water, sunsets too 😍
Laid-back afternoons on the golf course
Marsh views
Crashing waves
Ferry rides to nowhere in particular
This place that we’ve called home for the past 15 years just has a way of settling your soul.
It’s easy to see why so many are making the move—there’s a calm here, a sense of ease, and a whole lot of beauty wrapped up in the day-to-day.
So, What’s It Like to Work with Me?
If you’re wondering what it’s like to work with an agent who is sometimes trapped in the fog, here’s the truth:
I've spent over 20 years managing details—as a teacher, an administrator, and now as a realtor.
Even when my brain decides to take the scenic route, I’m still on top of what matters.
I’m committed, capable, and still showing up—fully, professionally, and usually with a smile… even if I do occasionally stumble while walking or forget which key opens the door.
That’s okay—because being human just means I’ve had to get creative.
Over the years, I’ve relied on a few tried-and-true systems that help me stay on track, even when my brain is off chasing butterflies.
Here are five organizational hacks that keep me showing up, grounded, focused, client ready, on time, mostly prepared, and almost always wearing matching shoes—no matter what MS or the market throws at me:
1. Master Calendar
I use one master calendar and sync everything to it. 🧡 Skylight is my go-to (thanks to my husband)
2. Write Things Down
Keep a paper planner. (Yes, I still do!) It is a great reference tool for someone who loves to check off a task! I also keep a notebook in my purse, just in case.
3. Weekly Reset & Review
Every night, I take a few minutes to look ahead, adjust my calendar, and set my intentions & alarms. It’s like giving my brain a map before each day begins.
4. Tech-Backed Reminders & Tools
Between digital calendars, voice memos, and smart home tools, I’ve found tech shortcuts that help me juggle tasks—even when my memory isn’t playing nice.
5. Grace, Humor, and Support
I’ve got a solid support crew (shoutout to my husband & boys!), and I’ve learned to laugh off the little stuff. Grace is not optional—it’s essential.
If you’re navigating your own fog, working through your own new reality or just need a guide who gets that real estate is about real life, I’m here.
Keys or not—I’ll help you find the right front door. 🏡
Pressure, Positivity & Finding Peace
Real estate is a business built on being available—showing up, staying connected, returning calls, scheduling tours, and answering texts at all hours. It’s about being the person people count on during one of the biggest decisions of their lives.
The pressure to keep smiling, to keep showing up and performing, doesn’t pause just because your body and mind need a break. And the truth is, it doesn’t just apply to work—it’s the same at home.
How do you help those around you understand what you’re only just beginning to make sense of yourself?
Pressure
The anxiety is new to me. There are days I lie awake worrying that I’ve let someone down, missed a detail, forgotten a conversation.
When you’ve spent most of your life being the organized one—the one who keeps everything and everyone on track—it’s strange to suddenly feel like the pieces don’t quite fit anymore.
Those closest to me, the ones who love me, are also the ones telling me to slow down, to try this medication, to ask those questions, to rest more. Their concern is real, but it often comes with a wave of suggestions.
And while I know they mean well, I find myself stuck in the in-between. I haven’t fully accepted this change—this new reality where my body doesn’t always cooperate and my brain feels foggier than I’d like to admit.
How do you begin to process something that continues to progress without permission?
When the responsibilities keep knocking, sometimes the hardest task is giving yourself permission to pause—long enough to accept this new version of you that never needed a roadmap just to make it through the day.
Showing up looks different now.
Positivity
The last few years haven’t just shifted my world—they’ve affected the people closest to me. And that’s the part that weighs the heaviest.
Because somehow, it feels easier to show up for acquaintances, clients, even strangers—people who don’t carry the emotional weight of watching me struggle. There’s no guilt, no pressure, no history. Just the task at hand.
But the truth is, healing—physically, mentally, emotionally—requires honesty. And right now, I’m learning that sometimes the bravest form of showing up is admitting when you just can’t.
Not today. And maybe that’s okay, too.
I’ve always been the one trying to keep the peace, maintain the balance, and bring a dose of positivity wherever it was needed. It’s how I’ve moved through life—showing up for others, smoothing edges, making sure everyone was happy. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to offer that same grace to myself.
Decision-making has felt heavy—not because I don’t know what I want, but because I’m afraid of disappointing someone else. Lately, the peace I’ve worked so hard to preserve feels more like a pressure point, and the positivity… well, it’s sometimes harder to find.
These last few years have exposed the quiet cracks I used to push through—and now, I’m learning how to live in the space between who I was and who I’m becoming.
Finding Peace
The people closest to us have a unique kind of influence. Their words, reactions, and energy can shape how we see ourselves—especially in moments of change.
And right now, I’m still learning how to navigate this shift. So if I need a little space, a little time to digest this reality on my own terms, please don’t take it personally. I’m not shutting you out; I’m trying to find my footing.
Support doesn’t always need to come in the form of solutions or suggestions. Sometimes, the most meaningful thing you can offer is your quiet presence—your willingness to stand beside me without trying to fix what I’m still learning to live with.
Maybe growth isn’t supposed to be easy or tidy.
No pressure, no expectations.
Gracefully Off Balance
When I was younger, gymnastics was the challenge I lived for.
It was all about intentional balance — on the beam, on the bars, in the air.
Every flip, every swing demanded focus, precision, and grit.
It was a sport built around individual goals, quiet determination, and personal victories.
The wins were mine, the stumbles were mine — and every time I got back up, I was a little stronger than before.
Until I wasn’t.
Looking Back
I realize now just how much my parents sacrificed to support my gymnastics journey.
They invested in every flip and every balance beam wobble.
And now?
That investment in balance isn’t exactly paying off…
considering I can barely walk a straight line without bumping into a doorway.
Turns out, MS wasn’t part of the routine.
How It Started
MS showed up like my very first gymnastics meet —
I stepped onto the beam, all eyes on me… and completely forgot my routine.
Now?
It’s everyday words that vanish.
Tasks disappear mid-thought. The only weight I lift is my left leg as it sometimes walks behind me.
Walking a straight line sometimes feels like an Olympic event.
I can’t trust my memory alone anymore,
so I use a calendar that has a backup calendar. My husband bought me a digital calendar to view as I leave for work And yes, they’re all color-coded and available for the family to see — because something has to stick since my landings do not.
Here’s the Thing
“Balance isn’t about perfection. It’s about persistence.”
Some days, just getting up and showing up is enough.
I laugh a lot more now — because honestly, if you can’t laugh at yourself when you lose your train of thought mid-sentence, or fall over putting on your pants, well…
MS will just keep giving you more practice.
All those years of gymnastics and learning to balance?
They weren’t wasted.
They trained me for this.
A new routine…
These days, my balancing act looks a little different.
Instead of beam routines and back handsprings, it’s juggling clients, showings, inspections, and open houses — often with a phone in one hand and a half-drunk coffee in the other, if I remember where I left it.
What used to be a physical routine on the mat has become a mental one: color-coded calendars alarms to remind me where I’m supposed to be, or to take my meds an ongoing effort to stay one step ahead of the MS brain fog.
Let’s just say… it’s less about nailing the landing and more about not missing the appointments.
If You’re On the Beam Too…
Whether it’s a diagnosis, a deadline, or a dream —
you don’t have to land everything perfectly.
Just get back up.
Smile at the judges.
And take the next step.
Just continue to Show Up!
💌 Sound familiar?
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Showing Up
There’s a quiet kind of courage that no one really talks about. It’s not loud or flashy. It doesn’t come with applause or recognition. It’s the kind of courage that comes when you get up, get dressed, and walk into yet another day — not because you want to, but because you have to.
That’s what the last few years of life has looked like for me.
I’m not yet 50, and for the past couple of years, I’ve felt a shift. Not a sudden, dramatic kind — but a slow unraveling. Little things at first: forgetting words, feeling unsteady, fighting through bone-deep fatigue. And then more — dizziness that wouldn’t go away, numbness, heaviness, and that gut-deep feeling that something wasn’t right. But for a long time, I did what so many of us do: I pushed through it.
After all, I’m a wife. A mom. A business owner. A real estate agent. A friend. A daughter. A woman who keeps things moving.
But behind the smiles and open house signs, I was unraveling. There were days I couldn’t show up for myself — and yet I still tried to show up for everyone else...and didn’t do it well.
I told myself I was tired. Stressed. Hormonal. Maybe just aging. But the truth was louder — something wasn’t just right.
The Hardest Kind of Appointment
“Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Maybe I’m overreacting.”
“Maybe I’m making it up.”
These were the thoughts I carried with me every day.
There were times when I walked out of appointments frustrated and confused — not because I had answers, but because I still didn’t. There’s a unique kind of grief that comes with knowing something’s wrong in your body, and not being able to name it.
And still, I showed up.
For the bloodwork.
For the MRIs.
For the specialists.
For the early morning drives to Chapel Hill, hoping maybe this time I’d leave with something concrete.
And finally, I did. A diagnosis: Multiple Sclerosis.
Showing Up When It’s Hard to Be Seen
Not only did a diagnosis bring a bit of closure — it brought another shift. A new way of living, of working, of thinking. But it also brought permission. Permission to rest. To ask for help. To believe myself.
There were long, quiet stretches where depression crept in — not the loud, obvious kind, but the low hum of sadness that comes from feeling like your own body is working against you. From wondering how you’ll keep showing up for your family, your clients, your future — when just brushing your teeth feels like a small victory.
But even on the hardest days, I kept one small promise to myself: Just show up. In whatever way I could.
Sometimes, that looked like closing on a house.
Sometimes, it looked like going to another neurologist.
And sometimes, it just looked like getting out of bed.
Why I’m Still Showing Up
I’m writing this now because I know I’m not the only one. I know what it feels like to smile through symptoms. To hide brain fog with a good to-do list. To quietly mourn a body that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.
But I also know what it feels like to be believed. To be supported. To find a diagnosis. To start fresh — not because you want to, but because you must.
If you’re walking through the unknown, if you’re fighting to be heard, if you’re barely keeping your head above water — Keep showing up.
For your appointments.
For your answers.
For your healing.
For your peace.
For yourself.