We don't get to choose what happens to us in life, but we do get to choose how we respond to these events. Even the most painful of losses, betrayals, disappointments, and heartbreaks can lead to beautiful outcomes. Maybe it's time to see your past through new eyes.

Is your life like a pair of stilettos one size too small?

How does the pit of your stomach feel on a Sunday night?

The music blasted, the disco lights flashed, and I channeled my inner Shakira.

People make three key mistakes when they communicate.

This extra sunlight is good for my soul.

I am in love! It hit me like a ton of bricks this weekend.  Remember what it felt like when you first fell in love? Every song on the radio was YOUR song. The littlest thing put a wide smile on your face. You bounced a little as you walked and the small stuff? No sweat! I love a love story. This whole Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce matchup has me rooting for a live proposal at the SuperBowl. I wept through The Golden Bachelor (and yes, I applied for the next season.) Give me a sappy Hallmark movie, and I puddle. But these years since Mark's transition have been an exercise in learning to be alone with myself. Truth be told, I kicked and screamed and worked every angle to fast forward through this chapter. Bumble, Hinge, J-Date, The League, and even Tinder can attest to my razor sharp focus on getting to what I thought would be the good part; my "happily ever after." Nope. Met some nice people. Some creeps. And then...crickets. Sigh. Perhaps I waved a spiritual white flag without realizing it. It wasn't like I decided to surrender. I just got busy doing stuff that made me happy. Going to the gym everyday. Wildly dancing with new friends. Being alcohol-free and still slaying on karaoke night. Petting puppy dogs and talking to random babies. Interviewing beautiful souls for my podcast . Savoring a sauna and clean sheets on the bed. Instead of waiting for someone to ask me, I took myself on dates. Like this weekend! Th I chose the scenic route on my way home from a jaunt to LA to see Chaka Khan in concert (and yes, I belted "I'm Every Woman" as if I were the performer). Around a bend, this greeted me:

It's a time for resolutions, not regrets.

You might think, "Of course, Brenda. Most people celebrating Christmas get a tree!" And you would be correct. But for me, there was no tree in 2021. Or 2022. Now 2020? THAT was a completely different story. Santa himself would have loved the three fully decorated trees that adorned the house Mark and I shared. He would strategically position Rudolph, Clarisse, The Abominable Snowman, Hermie ("I want to be a dentist"), and Yukon Cornelius in our living room. He'd graciously suffer through endless Hallmark Channel Christmas movies, and our kitchen smelled like butter and cinnamon for at least a month.