Sent the message. Took a deep breath. And stayed gentle with myself.
I chose care instead of waiting until I had nothing left.

This book wasn’t written from a mountain of expertise. There’s no PhD in “chronic resilience” (though if there were, some of you deserve honorary degrees). It was written from lived experience—the kind where plans derail before you’ve even sat up, where small victories mean everything, and where you’ve learned to keep going with a strength that most people will never fully see.

✨ Into the Light is not a fix-it guide. It’s a flashlight.
A soft one—think: bedside lamp, not stadium floodlight. It’s here to help you see your way back to yourself on the days when your sparkle feels buried under symptoms, brain fog, or the general absurdity of living in a body that doesn’t read the script.

And just to be clear—this isn’t a book that tries to explain us to the rest of the world. It’s not for them. It’s for us. For the ones doing the invisible work of living inside the story. For the ones navigating the storm with humor, grace, snacks, and sometimes sheer stubbornness.

So here’s the invite:

💬 Have you started reading yet? What’s a line or chapter that stuck with you?
📚 What’s your relationship like with your energy these days? Any “morning glow” moments or midday slumps that hit home?
🌱 What’s one thing you do—not because it fixes everything—but because it helps you feel a little more like you?

No pressure. No gold stars for participation. Just space to show up, reflect, and maybe leave feeling even 2% more seen.

You don’t have to be “doing great” to join the conversation. You just have to be here.

With light (even if it’s flickering today),
💛 -the Into the Light Team

My version of “showing up” looked different today.

I straightened and dusted off a set of shelves that were cluttered. Instead of scrolling on Facebook, I unsubscribed from a bunch of emails I usually ignore. And then I treated myself to a couple chapters from a new book, in a cozy chair I almost never sit in.

It was more than I could do yesterday and it felt like I was choosing to tend to myself today.

Anyone else deciding to fill their time with small acts of compassion?

You wrote this so quietly and it still hit me straight in the chest. Thank you.

It reminded me that tending to anything is enough.

Anyway—this gave me feelings. And now I’m wondering if my dusty old succulent deserves a second chance, too.

The line about not using energy to explain anymore? Yeah. That.

Thank you for writing this. It made something click. I needed that today. I’ll probably reread it like three more times before logging off.

I’m out here running a business. Managing projects. Hitting deadlines. Keeping humans alive. Being the backup plan. Showing up for everyone else even when I’m running on fumes. Being kind.

Still being kind.

But I don’t have it in me anymore to play translator for something people don’t want to understand. I can’t keep putting myself last just so someone else can feel more comfortable with the fact that I’m tired. Before I even open my laptop? No. That energy’s going somewhere better now.

Now I use it to make a real breakfast. To sit on the floor with my dog for five extra minutes before the day starts. To actually pause between tasks. To cry when I need to, instead of pretending I don’t. To notice when I’m hurting and see it as a sign my body’s asking for a little extra love. To do a tiny stretch before bed. Light a candle for no reason. Scroll less. Breathe more. Say no.

Just…say no.

We’ve all had to dig deep, not once or twice, but over and over again. We’ve built a kind of strength most people never even have to tap into. And now I’ve found this community where that strength isn’t invisible! Where we’re seen as capable people who keep showing up anyway.

Share what shifts you’re making to turn this journey into one that cares for you. I’d love to hear it. Just know it matters. You matter. The more we speak it, the more real it becomes. And maybe then, the world will start to see us as the forces we truly are.