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Sometimes nothing is “wrong” in your marriage, but something still feels off. You are not fighting. You are not planning to leave. You still care about each other, but you don’t feel close the way you used to. You look at your partner and think, We are okay, but are we still us? That feeling is more common than people admit. A lot of women don’t talk about it because it feels wrong to complain when your marriage is stable, when there is no big issue. When other people are struggling, and you feel like you should just be grateful. So you tell yourself to stop overthinking. You push the feeling down.You carry on, but the feeling doesn’t go away. It shows up in small moments. In the silence after the children are asleep. In the way conversations stay on the surface, in how touch becomes functional rather than affectionate.In how you miss being wanted, not just needed, and then the guilt comes. Why do I feel like this? Why do I want more when I already have a good thing?Am I asking for too much? You are not. Wanting a great marriage doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate the one you have.It means you miss the connection. Most marriages don’t lose their spark because of betrayal or drama. They lose it because life gets heavy. Work.Bills.Children.Stress.Tiredness. You start managing life together instead of enjoying each other. You become a team, but you stop being lovers, and no one teaches us how to find our way back. Sometimes you realise the spark faded very early, and that is scary. You think, if it’s already like this now, what will it be like in ten years? So you keep quiet. You don’t want to hurt your partner. You don’t want to sound ungrateful.You don’t want to open a conversation you don’t know how to finish. So you smile. You cope. You tell yourself, This is marriage. Deep down, you miss being seen. You miss being pursued. You miss laughter that isn’t about logistics. You miss the ease. The spark doesn’t disappear because love is gone. It disappears because attention shifts elsewhere, and attention can return through honesty. Sometimes that honesty sounds like:“I miss you.” “I feel far from you lately.” “I don’t want us just to exist side by side.” That’s hard to say. It feels vulnerable. It feels risky, but distance doesn’t heal itself. You don’tfix this by trying harder or doing more. You fix it by slowing down. By sitting together without phones. By talking about feelings, not just plans, by touching without rushing. By remembering that you are not just partners in responsibility, you are people who once chose each other. Yes, sometimes you’ll feel like you’re the one noticing the gap first. That’s exhausting. That’s real. Many women carry that emotional weight, but seeing doesn’t mean you’re failing.It means you care. A great marriage is not one where the spark never fades. It’s one where both people are willing to look at the fading and say, Let’s not ignore this. If you’re in this place, please know this: You are not ungrateful. You are not broken. You are not asking for too much. You’re just human, and wanting depth, closeness, and warmth in your marriage is not a weakness.It’s a sign that you believe your love is worth tending. Sometimes love doesn’t need to be found again.It just needs space to breathe.

The start of a new year can feel like a crossroads. For some, it is full of hope and excitement. For others, it is heavy, with last year’s burdens, unmet goals, and silent exhaustion still clinging to your shoulders. If that is you, I want you to know something important: you do not need to sprint to catch up.You do not need to perform, compete, or even pretend. You only need to step into this year with intention, care, and gentleness. Here are a few ways to do just that: 1. Take stock of your inner world. Before setting any big goals, ask yourself: What am I still healing from? What needs closure? What wounds need attention? Write it down, speak it aloud, or simply sit with it. Recognition is the first step to restoration. 2. Release what no longer serves you. Not everything you carried into last year belongs with you this year. Let go of guilt, comparison, unrealistic expectations, and the pressure to “do it all.” When you release, you make space for what truly matters. 3. Create small rituals for restoration. It could be a quiet morning coffee without your phone, a 10-minute journaling session, a walk in nature, or a prayer before bed. These small acts become gentle anchors that remind your soul: I am here. I am safe. I am enough. 4. Prioritise alignment over applause. Not every decision needs to impress anyone. Ask yourself: Does this feel right for me, my heart, my purpose? Choosing alignment over approval frees you from unnecessary stress and allows your growth to be authentic. 5. Lean into community and grace. You were not meant to carry everything alone. Reach out to those who support you, seek guidance, and let people help. And let grace, divine or self-granted, meet you when you fall short. 6. Celebrate small wins. Even a quiet decision to rest, to forgive, to start again, those are victories. Recognise them, cherish them, and let them remind you that progress is not always loud or visible. 7. Remember your worth is constant. Nothing you do, and nothing you haven’t done, can diminish your inherent value. You are worthy of love, rest, and joy right here, right now. Not after you accomplish more, not after you “catch up,” but simply because you exist. This year, let it be gentle, intentional, and soulful. Let it be a year where you rebuild from the inside out, honouring your pace and your journey. Let it be a year where you come home to yourself. When you step into the year with presence, awareness, and self-compassion, you don’t just survive; you begin to thrive.

Let me speak gently to you today, especially to the women reading this. If you entered the new year feeling tired instead of inspired, you are not broken. There is this quiet, unspoken expectation that January should feel electric, fresh energy, big goals, endless motivation. Life does not always follow the calendar. Many of us step into a new year carrying grief, disappointment, emotional fatigue, or even unanswered prayers, and that is okay. I see it every day in my coaching work. Women who are outwardly capable, confident, and polished, yet inwardly exhausted. Women who gave all they had last year and still feel empty. Women who love fiercely, give generously, and quietly run on fumes. This year does not need a louder, shinier version of you. It needs a more honest one. Before you rush to set goals, pause. Ask yourself: • What am I still healing from? • What drained me last year? • What do I need, not what everyone expects from me? Growth does not always mean adding more to your plate. Sometimes, it is about releasing, resting, and rebuilding from the inside out. You are allowed to enter this year slowly. You are allowed to redefine success on your own terms. You are allowed to choose alignment over applause. The new year is not asking you to perform. It is asking you to come home to yourself. So, breathe. Let yourself be seen, even in your fatigue. Let yourself be heard, even when your voice feels small. Let yourself feel worthy, even before you have “achieved” anything.Your value is not measured by your energy or output. It is inherent. It is constant. It is yours, and that is enough. Always.

There is a quiet, often invisible exhaustion that comes from being “the strong one.” You know the type. The one who keeps going when everyone else has stopped. The one who holds families, friendships, or workplaces together. The one who rarely asks, “Who is holding me?” If this is you, hear me clearly: you do not need to prove anything this year. Too many women start the year negotiating with themselves, promising to push harder, be better, do more, but what if this year asks for something different? What if this year asked you to soften instead of strive? To listen instead of rushing? To heal instead of hustle? I have learned, both through coaching and my own life, that the most sustainable growth happens when we stop fighting ourselves. When we honour our limits. When we see that rest is not weakness, and slowness is not failure. Starting again does not have to be dramatic. Sometimes, it is as quiet as deciding to be kinder to yourself. To stop carrying everything alone. To let God, grace, and the people around you meet you where you are. So, let this year be gentle. Let your progress be real, not performative. Let your becoming be rooted in truth, not pressure. You do not need to arrive anywhere. You are already worthy, right here, right now. The most powerful place to begin is exactly where you are. Not in the noise of everyone else’s expectations. Not in the rush to “fix” yourself or your circumstances. Here. Now. So, slow down. Breathe. Sit with your worth. Let your heart remember that you are enough, not because of what you do, but because of who you are, and in that gentle space, real transformation begins.

As the year ends, conversations quickly turn to goals. New plans. New habits. New versions of ourselves. Before you rush into writing lists and setting intentions, let me invite you to pause just for a moment. Before asking “What do I want to achieve next year?” Ask instead: “What did this year teach me about myself?” Growth that isn’t reflected on often gets repeated, and sometimes, that repetition is what keeps us stuck. There have been seasons in my own life where I set ambitious goals, only to realise later that I was chasing outcomes without listening to what my soul actually needed. I was busy striving, but not always aligned. This time of year has taught me the power of honest self-inquiry.  Not the kind that shames you, but the type that clarifies. Ask yourself gently: These questions aren’t meant to slow you down. They are intended to steady you. Sometimes we don’t need a new goal; we need a new way of relating to ourselves. You don’t have to enter the new year proving your worth. You already carry it. What you need is alignment between your values, your energy, and your choices. As you prepare for what’s next, remember this: You are not behind. You are not late. You are not lacking. You are learning, and when learning leads the way, growth becomes sustainable, peaceful, and deeply rooted. So before the new year begins, give yourself this gift: reflection without judgment, honesty without fear, and hope without pressure. The next chapter doesn’t need a perfect plan. It requires a grounded, self-aware, present you, and that is more than enough to begin again.

There is a quiet pressure that comes with a new year, to become someone else. To do more. To be more. To fix everything. What if the invitation isn’t transformation, but alignment? I’ve learned that true new beginnings don’t ask you to abandon yourself. They ask you to return to yourself. There were seasons when I chased growth that looked impressive but felt empty. I said yes when my spirit was saying no. I moved forward without listening inward, and eventually, I realised something important: growth without alignment leads to exhaustion. A new beginning asks better questions: Sometimes growth looks like slowing down. Sometimes it seems like redefining success. Sometimes it looks like choosing peace over pressure. You don’t need to enter the new year proving anything. You’re allowed to enter it listening. Discerning. Trusting that clarity will come step by step. This year, let your beginning be honest. Not louder. Not faster. Just truer. You’re not behind. You’re becoming, and that quietly, faithfully is more than enough.

As the year ends, many of us instinctively review our lives with a critical eye. We replay what didn’t happen. What we didn’t become. Where we think we fell short, but let me ask you something gently: What if you didn’t end this year judging yourself? For a long time, I believed reflection meant criticism. I thought growth required harsh honesty, the kind that leaves you feeling small, but I’ve learned something different. Growth flourishes in gentleness. There were years I entered January exhausted, carrying regret, disappointment, and unspoken grief from the year before. I didn’t realise that I was dragging emotional baggage into a season that deserved fresh air. Releasing doesn’t mean pretending the year was easy. It means acknowledging what hurt without letting it define you. It means saying, “This was hard, and I’m still standing.” Some seasons don’t give us breakthroughs. They provide us with depth. They teach us patience, boundaries, and faith, and those lessons matter just as much. Before this year ends, pause and ask: Ending the year gently isn’t a weakness. It is wisdom. You don’t need to punish yourself to grow. You need permission to rest, to reflect, and to let go. Close this chapter with grace. You did more than you think.

There is a version of yourself you longed for as a young woman, the one who had guidance, encouragement, and a voice cheering her on when the world doubted her. The woman you are today has the power to become exactly that person, not just for yourself, but for every young woman who will cross your path. I often reflect on my own journey and think: “If I could go back, what would I have wanted to hear? What would I have needed?” The truth is, I wouldn’t have needed perfection or flawless advice. I would have needed someone who believed in me, someone who reminded me of my worth, and someone who said: “Your dreams matter. Your voice matters. Your story matters.” Becoming the woman you needed isn’t about heroics or doing everything right. It’s about showing up, with empathy, courage, and authenticity. 1. Start With Yourself You can’t pour from an empty cup. The first step is nurturing yourself, your mind, your heart, your dreams. Speak kindly to yourself. Give yourself grace for mistakes. Celebrate your wins, however small. When I first started coaching young women, I realized that before I could inspire them, I had to motivate myself daily. Journaling, affirmations, prayer, and reflection became tools that grounded me. They reminded me that I am enough, capable, and worthy of the dreams I hold. 2. Share Your Story Your story has power. Every challenge you have overcome, every lesson you’ve learned, and every fear you’ve faced can guide someone else. Young women need to see real, relatable examples of resilience and courage, not just highlight reels. I remember sharing my story with a group of young women, how I started Proudtobeme, the obstacles I faced, and the moments I doubted myself. Afterward, several came up to me, saying, “I thought I was the only one struggling with this.” Your transparency can be a lifeline. 3. Be Present Sometimes, becoming the woman you needed doesn’t require grand gestures. It’s being present, listening without judgment, mentoring with patience, or offering encouragement when it’s needed most. A simple conversation, a thoughtful note, or showing up consistently can have a ripple effect. Young women remember those moments, the times someone genuinely cared, believed, and invested in them. 4. Challenge Stereotypes and Expectations We live in a world that often boxes women into roles or tells us how we should behave. Becoming the woman you needed means challenging those narratives. Show young women that they can lead, create, and thrive on their own terms. Every time I mentor or speak to young women about entrepreneurship, leadership, or creativity, I remind them: “Your worth isn’t defined by your circumstances, your background, or what others say you should be. You define yourself.” 5. Invest in Their Growth Teaching skills, sharing opportunities, or guiding someone through a challenge are ways to invest in the women who come after you. Mentorship doesn’t have to be formal, it can be as simple as a supportive conversation, helping someone refine their ideas, or introducing them to someone who can open doors. I’ve seen young women bloom when given even small opportunities to explore their potential. And the beauty is, the more we invest in others, the more we grow ourselves, learning patience, empathy, and leadership along the way. 6. Lead With Empathy and Grace Becoming the woman you needed means understanding that everyone is on a journey. People will stumble. They will doubt themselves. They will test boundaries. Respond with patience, guidance, and encouragement. I often tell young women, “Your mistakes do not define you. How you respond and grow from them does.” Being that voice of compassion and clarity can leave a lasting impact. 7. Leave a Legacy of Possibility Ultimately, becoming the woman you needed is about creating space for others to dream bigger. When you model courage, resilience, and authenticity, you plant seeds of possibility. Young women who encounter you are inspired not only to survive but to thrive. Every time a young woman takes a step she thought was impossible, whether starting a business, pursuing education, or standing up for herself, you have played a part. You have become the guide, the cheerleader, and the mentor you once longed for. Becoming the woman you needed isn’t a destination; it’s a daily choice. Show up for yourself. Show up for others. Speak truth. Lead with love. And watch how your presence transforms lives, one young woman at a time. When you become the woman you needed, you don’t just change one life, you change generations.

There are seasons in life when your purpose, the thing that used to light you up, feels quiet. The fire that once fueled your dreams dims, and you might find yourself asking, “Am I even going in the right direction?” Trust me, this is more common than we like to admit. Even the most driven people experience moments when inspiration feels out of reach. I remember a time in my own journey when I felt this deeply. After years of building Proudtobeme, mentoring young women, and running programs that touched lives, I found myself staring at a blank page, unsure of what to write next. My energy felt drained, my creativity slowed, and I began to question whether my work still mattered. The purpose that once seemed so loud had grown quiet. If you are in a similar place, here’s what I’ve learned, and what has helped me reconnect with my sense of calling. 1. Acknowledge the Quiet The first step is to recognize and accept that this season exists. You don’t need to force inspiration or beat yourself up for feeling lost. Life has rhythms, and sometimes purpose pauses so that growth, reflection, or healing can happen. I remember telling myself, “It’s okay to be still. I don’t have to perform or produce to prove I’m valuable.” Acknowledgment doesn’t mean surrender. It means honoring the fact that inspiration isn’t a constant flame, it has its seasons, and that’s natural. 2. Reconnect With Your Why Often, when purpose grows quiet, we’ve lost sight of the original reason we started. Go back to your “why.” Why did you begin your journey in the first place? What were the moments that made your heart beat faster, the ones that made you feel alive? For me, it was remembering the young women I had met who had no one cheering them on, no mentor guiding them, no voice to say, “You can do this.” Reconnecting with that first spark reminded me that my purpose isn’t about accolades, it’s about impact when we reconnect with our “why,” even a whisper of inspiration can grow into momentum. 3. Give Yourself Permission to Rest Sometimes the quiet comes because you’ve been running non-stop. Burnout can masquerade as a loss of purpose. Take time to rest, reflect, and recharge. This doesn’t mean giving up; it means honoring your human needs. I’ve learned that some of my best ideas come after a long walk, a quiet morning with coffee, or journaling my thoughts. Rest creates space for clarity. It’s in the stillness that inspiration often finds us again. 4. Shift Your Perspective Feeling uninspired doesn’t always mean your purpose is gone, it might mean your approach needs a shift. Look at your journey from a different angle. Explore new ways to express your gifts or serve others. For example, if writing or speaking feels heavy, try connecting in smaller, more personal ways, mentoring one young woman, hosting an intimate conversation, or even sending notes of encouragement. Often, small actions reignite the fire you thought had faded. 5. Seek Inspiration From Others We are rarely meant to do life alone. Surround yourself with people who uplift, challenge, and remind you of what’s possible. Attend a conference, read books that stir your soul, or have coffee with someone whose journey inspires you. I recall a time I met a young woman who had started her own initiative to empower girls in her community. Listening to her passion reminded me that inspiration is contagious, sometimes all it takes is seeing someone else’s light to reignite your own. 6. Embrace the Small Wins When inspiration is quiet, focus on small victories. Celebrate tiny steps toward your goals, acts of kindness, or moments when your presence touched someone’s life. Small wins create momentum and remind you that purpose doesn’t always announce itself with grandeur. I’ve often found that one encouraging message from a young woman I mentor, or a simple note from someone who benefited from a program, can bring back a sense of purpose stronger than any motivational quote ever could. 7. Trust the Process Finally, trust that quiet seasons are part of the journey. Purpose doesn’t disappear, it evolves. Sometimes, the quiet is God, life, or the universe asking you to pause, reflect, and prepare for the next chapter. When I embrace this truth, I move with patience and faith, knowing that inspiration will return, and when it does, it’s often louder, clearer, and more aligned than before. Remember, your purpose doesn’t have an expiration date. Seasons come and go, inspiration ebbs and flows, but the impact you were born to make remains. Lean into the quiet, listen, and allow yourself the grace to grow, even when the fire seems dim. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet that the deepest calling is being prepared.