I have been anxiously awaiting my July pull, just two days after turning 50 and crossing a new threshold in my healing journey.

This month landed with five powerful cards.

I don’t think I needed to hear anything more.

For the last two years, I’ve measured my growth by movement. If I wasn’t fixing something, healing someone, chasing a goal or a girl, or making another hard decision, I wondered if I was standing still. Somewhere along the way I confused peace with stagnation.

I kept asking myself, When will I finally feel better? When will I stop worrying about someone else? When will I stop analyzing every text, every silence, every interaction?

Then, all of a sudden, it was like I put on a new pair of glasses. Ones that cut through the bullshit and the gray areas.

My no is suddenly louder than my yes.

Is this calm? Is this peace I feel in solitude the evidence of the progress I’ve made?

The Strength card reminded me that real strength isn’t loud. It doesn’t wrestle life into submission. It doesn’t force outcomes or cling to people who aren’t ready. For me, strength is gentleness. It’s choosing compassion without abandoning myself. It’s trusting my own heart and intuition enough to let things unfold and, when necessary, let them go with love.

Then came the Six of Wands.

This card is often associated with victory, and my first thought was, Victory over what?

For a long time, it felt like all I had done was lose people I loved. I thought I was losing one battle after another. Now I see it differently. Maybe those people and experiences weren’t taken away to leave me empty. Maybe they were making room for people who choose me, prioritize me, and honor my journey.

For most of my life, I thought love meant intensity. I thought healing meant enduring discomfort until something finally changed.

Lately, I’ve realized repair happens in safe places.

And for the first time in a very long time…

I actually feel safe.

I can exhale.

I’ve stopped abandoning myself just to keep someone else comfortable. That didn’t happen overnight. It happened one quiet choice at a time.

Looking back on my birthday weekend, surrounded by friends who showed up with so much love and absolutely no expectations, I realized this is what healing has been about all along. Not perfection. Not certainty. Just knowing I don’t have to earn my place in the lives of the people who truly care about me.

This month, I don’t want to chase people who can’t meet me where I am.

I don’t want to force what isn’t meant for me.

I don’t want to choose the path of least resistance just because I’m afraid of being alone.

This calm I feel after all the chaos doesn’t feel empty anymore.

It feels like peace.

I’m not in an intermission between the exciting parts of life.

I’m living it.

One day at a time.

I trust the process. I trust my intuition. I trust my boundaries and these new life glasses.

I know my future won’t be built by one giant decision. It’ll be built by hundreds of little choices that honor my heart, protect my peace, and reflect what I know I deserve.

My no is getting clearer because my self-worth is getting louder.

At the lake this weekend, there was a wedding happening outside our cabin. As we watched from afar, one little flower girl completely stole my attention.

She wore a pretty flower girl dress with cowboy boots.

For hours she ran, played, pulled a kite, climbed a rock wall, and explored everything around her. That dress had to be uncomfortable, but she never let it stop her. She wasn’t worried about getting dirty or looking perfect. She just experienced everything the day had to offer.

I admired her all day.

It made me realize how often we tell ourselves we can’t fully enjoy life because the timing isn’t right, we’re carrying too much, or things aren’t exactly how we want them to be.

She reminded me that joy doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.

So thank you, little flower girl.

Thank you for reminding me that nothing can stop you from having fun and doing what you want to do—not even a fancy dress.

I think that’s exactly how I want to live this next chapter.