Bailz Has a Blog

Tag: resilience

  • Returning to Myself, One Pause at a Time

    Returning to Myself, One Pause at a Time

    ✨ Hey, hi, hello! Happy Wednesday!

    It’s been a few days since my last post, and I’ve really been trying to slow down and focus on being gentle with myself. Although, admittedly, I’ve been struggling with it. I’m feeling better today, but the in-between was rougher than I anticipated.

    After my post on Friday, I felt a huge amount of vulnerability. On one hand, I was incredibly proud of myself for sharing everything I did. But at the same time, I felt pretty depleted — it took a lot of energy to muster up the courage to say those things out loud.

    🎵 The Concert I Almost Skipped (But Absolutely Needed)

    Friday night we went to a concert, and every bit of me wanted to skip it. I was drained, I was tired, I was not feeling 100% by any means. But we were going to see one of Heath’s favorite bands, NEEDTOBREATHE, and we’d had these tickets for months. I couldn’t bring myself to deprive him of the experience, so I pushed through — and I am so glad I did. I know without a doubt that I was supposed to be there.

    The opener was a woman named Bre Kennedy. I had never heard of her before, but now? I absolutely love her. From the very first song, she grabbed my heart and didn’t let it go. Her voice was stunning, her lyrics beautiful, and I was literally moved to tears. And once they started, they didn’t stop.

    But of course — my inner critic immediately piped up:

    “Oh my god, stop crying! People are going to see you! What are they going to think?!”

    Still, for one of the first times in a long time, I chose not to listen.
    I let the tears flow.
    I stayed in the moment.
    I let myself feel.

    And yes, I ugly cried through most of her set. And I regret nothing.

    📚 The Alchemist, Omens, and the Nudge I Needed

    During her set, Bre talked about her upcoming album, The Alchemist, named after Paulo Coelho’s book. This hit me hard. I had bought that book on my last trip to Guthrie, started reading it, then put it on the shelf when I got home because I became wrapped up in all my Happiness Project reading.

    The moment she mentioned it, I knew I needed to pick it back up again.

    After the show, Heath noticed me eyeing her at the merch table and asked if I wanted to meet her. My instinct was no, because interacting with people I admire makes me panic — but I said yes.

    I told her how much her music moved me, how I cried through the whole thing, and how she inspired me to restart The Alchemist. She was so kind, so gracious, so warm. I almost cried again talking to her. I’m so glad I took the chance.

    The next day, I restarted The Alchemist from the beginning, and instantly felt immersed again — in the story, the Personal Legend, the Soul of the World, the omens. It reinforced everything I’ve been feeling lately:

    I am in the messy middle. I am doing the work. And I am on the right path.

    🌿 Therapy, Inner Critics, and Blooming Slowly

    I had therapy yesterday, and it went really well. Each session makes me more confident that I’ve finally found the right therapist. We talked a lot about childhood trauma and how those experiences still color the way I treat myself now — especially the way my inner critic talks to me.

    You would think that getting sober is a HUGE accomplishment that even my inner critic couldn’t argue with, right?
    Wrong.

    She said:

    “Obviously you should be sober! Why didn’t you do it sooner? You’re so late to the game!”

    She can be… a lot.

    I told my therapist how I’m struggling with wanting everything to happen faster — I want to be further along than I am. And she gave me an analogy that struck me deeply:

    When a flower blooms, it expands… and then it pauses.
    It contracts a little to gather energy.
    Without those pauses, it wouldn’t bloom at all — its petals would fall off.

    WOW. I loved that.

    It was exactly what I needed. I don’t want to lose my petals. I want to bloom slowly and stay intact. That means I have to pause. I have to rest. I have to let myself contract so I can grow again.

    The past few days have been my pause-and-contract phase. Today, I feel like I’m blooming again.

    📖 Books, Chiropractic Care, and Little Moments of Self-Care

    My therapist recommended a new book — Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May — and it arrived today. I’m excited to start it tonight.

    This morning I went to the chiropractor, then this afternoon I got a haircut. It felt so nice to pamper myself a little.

    Tomorrow morning I have my second progress scan with the chiropractor. The first scan showed enormous improvement and brought me to tears. I know this next one will too.

    I feel so much more centered, grounded, and connected to my body than I did even a month ago. These adjustments have helped regulate my nervous system in ways I didn’t even realize were possible.

    💜 Gratitude for Where I Am Now

    Instead of focusing on “what ifs,” I’m focusing on gratitude.

    I am grateful that I have the opportunity to do this work.
    Grateful that I can afford therapy and chiropractic care.
    Grateful that I have a husband who encourages me every step of the way.
    Grateful that I quit my job when I did.
    Grateful that I started my blog, found my chiropractor, found my therapist, quit drinking, quit smoking — when I did.

    I’m following the omens.
    I’m working toward my own Personal Legend.
    It’s messy.
    It’s beautiful.
    And I feel so lucky to be here.

    I am doing this for every younger version of me who couldn’t.
    For every future version of me who will benefit.
    And for the current version of me who keeps showing up — on the good days and the harder ones too.

    💬 A Question for You

    Before you go, I’d love to hear from you:

    Where are you in your own blooming process right now — expanding, contracting, or somewhere beautifully in between?

    Share in the comments if you feel comfortable. Your story might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today. 🌿

    ✨ Want to Follow Along?

    If you enjoyed this post and want to follow along on my healing journey, my messy middle, and all the magic I’m discovering along the way, please consider subscribing.

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    Love always,
    Bailz 💜

  • 🌿 Two Years Post-Chemo: A Reflection on Healing, Growth, and Self-Trust

    🌿 Two Years Post-Chemo: A Reflection on Healing, Growth, and Self-Trust

    Yesterday, October 25th, officially marked two years since my last chemo infusion to treat Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

    I’ll admit — I didn’t realize what day it was at first. There wasn’t some big countdown like a birthday or anniversary. And when I finally did realize, it hit me harder than I expected. I knew the date was coming up, and I knew I wanted to write about it here, but I procrastinated thinking about it. I told myself, “I’ll think about it on the day.”

    And then suddenly, there it was — the day — and I felt blindsided.

    💭 Revisiting “That Day”

    At first, my mind went straight back to that original October 25th in 2023. To be honest, it wasn’t a great day.

    What I’d imagined would be full of joy and celebration ended up feeling disappointing and frustrating. I gave my emotional power away — not consciously, but I did.

    As I started writing about it, I got sucked right back into that version of myself — angry, hurt, raw. I wrote, deleted, rewrote. The emotions were heavy. I could feel them crawling up through the keys. It was like I’d time-traveled, sitting at my kitchen table but right back there.

    Eventually, I realized how foul I was feeling and stopped. I went to Heath, told him what was happening, and he just hugged men and listened. We talked, and he gently helped pull me out of that dark loop. He asked what I wanted to do that day just for fun, and the answer came easily: I wanted a pedicure — and I wanted him to go with me.

    So we did. 💅 It was simple but healing. Heath had never been to a nail salon before, so it became this small, joyful adventure for both of us.

    🌸 Choosing Growth Over the Old Loops

    Instead of spiraling back into the pain of that day, I decided to focus on how far I’ve come in two years.

    Two years ago, old Bailz would have let those emotions derail the entire day. She would’ve curled up in bed and let the pain consume her — because that was familiar. That was what she knew.

    But new Bailz recognized the loop. She spoke up. She asked for help. She chose to redirect.

    That’s the difference.

    Now, I’m learning to take care of myself in the hard moments, not just when things feel easy. I’m keeping promises to myself because I finally know I’m worth the work.

    💪 Two Years of Becoming

    If old me could see me now, I don’t think she’d believe it.

    Going to bed and waking up at the same time?
    Not snoozing the alarm four times?
    Eating consistently, moving my body, and actually being kind to myself?
    Who is this girl?!

    Two years ago, I was terrified to speak up about what I needed. I thought advocating for myself was selfish or rude. I thought the things that lit me up were fine for other people — just not for me, because no one had handed me permission.

    I had no idea how small I was making myself just to keep the peace.

    🕊 Turning Pain Into Purpose

    But here’s the thing: that difficult day — the last chemo day I was so angry about — ended up being a catalyst.

    It pushed me to write that letter to my family.
    It pushed me to finally speak up and take up space.

    The fallout was painful. There was grief, depression, and a long stretch of darkness. I held out hope that accountability might come, that relationships could heal. But when that didn’t happen, I started rebuilding without them.

    And now… I look around at this life I’ve built, and I am so proud of myself.

    🌻 What I’ve Learned in Two Years

    If I had to boil it all down to one lesson, it’s this:

    You only get one life — love it.
    And if you don’t love it, change it.

    That’s what I did.

    I started speaking up for myself. I started holding people accountable — and when they refused, I learned to walk away. I’ve grieved. I’ve healed. I’ve grown.

    I’ve gotten tattoos simply because I wanted them. I’ve taken myself on solo vacations. And earlier this year, Heath and I eloped — just the two of us (with our photographers as witnesses). We made that day ours. No guilt. No permission. Just love.

    That, to me, is the definition of healing — living life on your own terms, with self-trust and self-compassion leading the way.

    🌞 Here’s to Two Years of Change

    Two years post-chemo.
    Two years of reclaiming my life.
    Two years of learning to choose peace, joy, and authenticity — over and over again.

    All the work I’ve done can’t change the past. But it has changed how I see it — and how I see myself.

    Here’s to many more years of growth, of healing, of living fully.

    💜
    Love always,
    Bailz