Every January/February, I choose a word to guide my year. It’s not about making resolutions or setting lofty goals. For me, it’s about creating a gentle framework for reflection, a way to move through the year with more clarity and intention. Some words have felt like hopes I was reaching toward. Others have simply named the season I was already living. This time, the word arrived quietly but kind of undeniably: alchemy.
Alchemy speaks to transformation — the deep kind, the kind that happens slowly after everything has shifted. It’s not about glossing over pain or presenting a polished version of growth. It’s about working with what’s real. Alchemy allows the difficult, complicated pieces of our lives to become part of something meaningful. Not erased or hidden, but used in an intentional way.
After divorce or betrayal, many people describe a feeling of losing themselves. They talk about being unrecognizable in their own lives, and eventually finding their way back. That’s a valid and familiar story, but that really doesn’t resonate with me.
I didn’t disappear. Even in the most disorienting moments, I remained rooted in who I was, thanks to the amazing network of loved ones I had surrounding me. For a while, I questioned everything — and I won’t pretend that clarity came quickly. But over time, I realized the shift wasn’t in my identity. It was in my willingness to continue carrying things that no longer served me. I had to let go of roles, patterns, and friendships that didn’t align with who I was anymore. I made space. I released what was finished. And underneath all of it, I was still there — steady, grounded, and clearer than before.
One of the biggest shifts lately has been learning to trust my intuition again. That connection was shaky for a long time, especially in the wake of betrayal trauma. But slowly, I’ve rebuilt it — through stillness, through self-trust, through tools like tarot that help me pause and listen more closely. I’ve started noticing the quiet signals that were always there, the ones I used to doubt or override. Now, I suppose I’m just choosing to follow them.
That’s why alchemy feels right for this year. I’m not returning to a blank slate. I’m building something new from everything I’ve already lived. The strength, the scars, the lessons are all part of it.
This is the energy I’m carrying into 2026 — intentional, creative, and grounded. If you’ve chosen a word for your year, I’d love to hear what it is. And if you’re in a season of quiet transformation, know that you’re not alone. There’s a kind of magic in this slow, intentional becoming. That’s alchemy too.
I began this blog with the simple but sacred intention to document my life. To process what I was living through, to find shape in the chaos, and — when the moment allowed — to romanticize the ordinary. Writing helped me pay attention. It turned fleeting moments into something lasting. I wrote to remember, to reflect, and sometimes, to reframe.
But between 2023 and 2025, the words stopped coming.
During those years, so much of what defined me fell apart. My marriage ended. My beloved coaching career — one I imagined would carry me through the rest of my life — came to a close. I left a town and school counseling career that I was DEEPLY invested in. I entered a season of silence, not out of apathy, but necessity. My energy turned inward. I focused on protecting my children, on surviving the quiet undoing of the life I had built, and on holding myself together when everything else felt like it was unraveling.
It was dark. It was quiet. And it was mine.
reflection, processing, and a lot of stillness.
I didn’t blog through that time, though I often thought about it. I wondered how to explain the kind of grief that has no shape, the kind that sits in your body for months before you can name it. I wondered how to write about motherhood in survival mode, about endings I didn’t see coming, about rebuilding without knowing what the new foundation should be made of.
And so I stayed silent (publicly at least). But I lived. I felt every moment deeply — even if I didn’t write it down.
In the coming year, I hope to document pieces from before and after that silent stretch. I hope to process the glimmers that came when life felt beautiful, full, and worthy of words — and it will hold space for the time when everything went quiet. I don’t want that chapter to be skipped. Just because I wasn’t blogging doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening. In many ways, those were the most defining years of my life — not in how loudly I lived, but in how carefully I held things together.
Returning to these posts now is an act of honoring what I lived through. Not to rewrite it, or reframe it, but simply to say: it mattered. The pause mattered. The pain mattered. The protecting, the unraveling, the deep inner work — it all mattered.
I’m writing again now because I finally have the space — and the strength — to speak from within the mess. There is clarity in hindsight, but there’s also softness. I’ve learned not to rush meaning, not to chase closure before it’s ready, and not to discount the seasons where surviving and healing is the only story.
If you’ve followed my blog from the beginning, thank you. If you’re reading this for the first time, welcome.
Some chapters are bright. Others are shadowed. But they all belong.
Hello blog world – I’m back! After hemming and hawing over what to do with this blog, I just couldn’t bring myself to cancel it. Many times this year, I have felt the tug to blog and return to this space. As many of you know, I am a verbal processor (aka open book, aka trauma dumper, aka be careful when you ask how I am) and love using the written word to make sense of the world around me. In the end (literally this month), my gut told me to keep it, pay to renew it and here we are. Because if I have learned one thing the past two years, is that my intuition/gut is a powerful witchy force and I need to listen to it.
So much has happened in the past two years and I know I have left you with sparse pieces of that puzzle but I am okay with that. The biggest puzzle that has been built meticulously is the act of healing and acceptance. I feel like I’m finally around the corner of that healing (I know I’ve sad that at previous chapters but now feel like it’s here to stay) and I’m also ready to keep sharing that journey with the world – in case someone else is going through it and selfishly, just to keep myself accountable and writing as a creative outlet.
Cats are a constant reminder of the importance of ease and rest.
Although I haven’t been publicly blogging, I have kept up my journaling practice and referenced back to January when I choose my One Little Word for the year. After an extremely hard 2024 where my heart, mind, and body were constantly exerting effort just to keep going, it was time to counterbalance that effort with EASE. I wanted to pursue ease, make sure I was intentionally scheduling rest, and keeping a promise to myself to listen to my body and give it what was easy to give at the time (this was often slowing down, rest, and stillness).
“Ease is not the absence of challenge, but the presence of grace in the face of it.”
One of the aspects of healing I worked on this year was re-aligning with my intuition. After the betrayal trauma, I had some big realizations about ways I ignored my intuition in the past and some inherent anger I actually had toward it for “letting me down.” Part of pursuing EASE was to dive deep into that internal dialogue and sensation to determine what actually does feel easy, right, and energy-giving versus energy-draining.
In business, that meant I worked on automaticity and systems so that parts of it could run in the background as I prioritized rest and other pursuits.
In relationships, that meant that with the limited resources I have in this stage of life (time, money, energy), I only wanted to spend on people that felt “easy” to me. And honestly in retrospect, I chose the people that were honest, steadfast, and genuine – all things I desperately needed post betrayal trauma.
A delightful night out in Seattle with one of my bests.
In January of this year, I made a list of activities that made me feel EASE and they still hold true 12 months later: – walking outside – sunshine – morning routine – cuddling with WB – intentional eating and meal prep – shifts at the Landing – being “cat-trapped” by Hallford – heat (hot tub, hot water shower, sauna) – decorating my new space – taking the train vs. driving
So TL;DR, I found some ease this past year and lived to blog about it. More blogging (and a new word) coming in 2026….cheers!
I have been in a functional freeze state about oh-so-many things in my life as of late….this blog being one of them. Blogging and writing has been such a coping strategy for me for so long and I’ve had a block keeping me from doing so…..BUT I want to reclaim things that bring me joy and help me sort through the absolute chaos in my heart and mind as of late. To round up the last 6 or so months since I published this post, I thought I would do a few frequently asked questions that come up often from folks (not that I mind you asking – but it’s hard to answer some hard ones over and over ya know?).
Are you still coaching? Nope. The pain from the loss of my job at Ferndale is still deep and fresh and I’m not ready for the high school coaching scene again (maybe not ever around here). I love coaching and developing younger players and am definitely open to private trainings and younger club coaching opportunities. I do plan on going into more detail at some point about this on the blog but can’t until some other processes play out so stay tuned.
Why did you leave Ferndale (Schools)? I love love loved my role as school counselor and counseling leader in Ferndale (especially our counseling team – the absolute BEST in all the land). The tides changed dramatically with new leadership (which is completely normal and I accept that) and I no longer could align my professional values and needs with the agendas playing out there, especially in regards to hiring/firing practices. As a school counselor, there are a LOT of game-time decisions made about very important children and families in our buildings and in 16 years in the profession, I was NEVER anxious about whether or not administration would support me and those decisions until recently. I couldn’t let that affect my mental health but more importantly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to provide the best services I could for students and families with that pressure and anxiety hanging over my program. I do want to say with 100% certainty, there are AMAZING staff members throughout Ferndale School District – I miss so many of them, especially watching their brilliance and care for little ones play out each and every day in buildings throughout this community I care very much about.
What are you doing these days for work? I am in my self-employed, entrepreneur ERA! As some of you know, I have dreamed of owning a business focused on supporting children and families with trauma for multiple years. It was close to fruition in 2020 before Covid and some other life events happened that created necessity to stay in my role at Ferndale.
Rooted WELL is the name of my wee little company – I help educators and families create safe spaces for children with needs that are not well supported in the existing public school system. This can include professional development and trainings, but I also have individual clients I get to see on a regular basis to support the work as well. This Spring, I was afforded the amazing opportunity to be an adjunct professor for the school counseling graduate program at WWU which re-ignited my passion for supporting new school counselors with resources, training, and burn-out prevention support.
Coming soon – presenting at a national virtual conference, a new website, online course for new school counselors, and whatever else my busy busy brain dreams up! Yes, I also still make money from tik tok and even help a few other clients do the same so that’s a fun little side gig along the way.
Are you and Scott staying together? No. We are talking and co-parenting and are making it work for the sake of our kiddos, but our romantic relationship has come to an end. It is my hope (and I know his too) that we can forge a new relationship moving forward with foundations of respect, trust and genuine care for each other but some individual healing, forgiveness and growth needs to happen first.
We still hang out, go to events together, and can be around each other – so if you see us out, it’s not weird but it’s also not a date (so come talk to us but don’t be awkward). I think that covers all the bases of what folks might want/need to know. There is a lot of information out in public about us but also a lot behind the scenes very much impacting my decisions so thank you to those of you reaching out and supporting us BOTH through this tough time.
How are the kids? The Wonders have unique backgrounds that make a family rupture like the one we are experiencing difficult. We are supporting both of them and overall, they are handling it with respect, open communication and an an amazing amount of grace. It has highlighted those things that I love about both of them (and hopefully those are seeds we have been planting and tending to in the 10 years we’ve been honored to parent them).
Do you plan on moving? I think so? The small town of Ferndale is one of the loves of my life and a piece of my identity I value dearly. However, because of the coaching/professional stuff that went down and the betrayal trauma occurring nearby as well, it’s been a bit of an emotional minefield to live and interact with folks here. WonderBOY wants to finish his HS career here so one of us will have to stay but I would say it is very likely I will not be a Ferndale-for-life kinda gal like I originally envisioned for myself.
How are you handling all of this? I have THE BEST network of people around me to help me handle things. So some days are good and I am smiling and other days, I’m frozen in bed watching seasons upon seasons of my emotional support shows (what are they you ask? Gilmore Girls, Grey’s Anatomy, Sex and the City, Hart of Dixie and The Challenge). Throughout the past 9 months there have been times that my mind is strong and stable, yet my body has not been. And at other times, it’s the exact opposite which has been difficult for a number of reasons with multiple triggers of some past hurts and struggles.
What can I do to help? Feel free to refer to this blog post I wrote about this very topic. This summer, I am very much grieving some “typical” summer trips I have done in the past…i would love walks and invites to enjoy the summer sun in the PNW with you. AND some days, I have to say no and take care of myself alone in my depression nest and I so appreciate all my peeps understanding that!
Thank you for reading all of this. I am a pretty open book so catch me in person or give me a call if you’d like to connect!!! And a cute little photo reward for all this reading –>
A core group of my support network the past 9 months. I would NOT have gotten through some very dark days and nights without these fine folks (and a handful of others not pictured here).
Each month since re-discovering some of Taylor’s newer work, there seems to be one song that rises to the surface as extra meaningful or is played on repeat from my Spotify. I thought I would document those songs here to reflect on at a later date.
LOML Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing Back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway We embroidered the memories Of the time I was away Stitching, “We were just kids, babe” I said, “I don’t mind, it takes time” I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed I felt aglow like this Never before and never since
If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married Still alive, killing time at the cemetery Never quite buried In your suit and tie, in the nick of time You lowdown boy, you stand up guy Holy Ghost, you told me I’m The love of your life
You said I’m the love of your life About a million times
Who’s gonna tell me the truth When you blew in with the winds of fate And told me I reformed you When your impressionist paintings of Heaven Turned out to be fakes Well, you took me to hell, too And all at once, the ink bleeds A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme But I felt a hole like this Never before, and ever since
If you know it in one glimpse It’s legendary What we thought was for all time Was momentary Still alive, killing time at the cemetery Never quite buried You cinephile in black and white All those plot twists and dynamite Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry You said I’m the love of your life
You talked me under the table Talking rings and talking cradles I wish I could un-recall How we almost had it all Dancing phantoms on the terrace Are they second-hand embarrassed That I can’t get out of bed? Cause something counterfeit’s dead It was legendary It was momentary It was unnecessary Should’ve let it stay buried
Oh, what a valiant roar What a bland goodbye The coward claimed he was a lion I’m combing through the braids of lies “I’ll never leave” … “Never mind” Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire Your arson’s match your somber eyes And I’ll still see it until I die You’re the loss of my life
Each month since re-discovering some of Taylor’s newer work, there seems to be one song that rises to the surface as extra meaningful or is played on repeat from my Spotify. I thought I would document those songs here to reflect on at a later date. This month, we shall list two songs which makes sense based on how many hours I have spent listening to the newest (double) album.
Marjorie Never be so kind, you forget to be clever Never be so clever, you forget to be kind
And if I didn’t know better I’d think you were talking to me now If I didn’t know better I’d think you were still around What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, you’re alive in my head What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, so alive
Never be so polite, you forget your power Never wield such power, you forget to be polite
And if I didn’t know better I’d think you were listening to me now If I didn’t know better I’d think you were still around What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, you’re alive in my head What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, so alive
The autumn chill that wakes me up You loved the amber skies so much Long limbs and frozen swims You’d always go past where our feet could touch And I complained the whole way there The car ride back and up the stairs I should’ve asked you questions I should’ve asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should’ve kept every grocery store receipt ‘Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me Watched as you signed your name Marjorie All your closets of backlogged dreams And how you left them all to me
What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, you’re alive in my head What died didn’t stay dead What died didn’t stay dead You’re alive, so alive And if I didn’t know better I’d think you were singing to me now If I didn’t know better I’d think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you’re still around
So Long, London I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away My spine split from carrying us up the hill Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill I stopped trying to make him laugh Stopped trying to drill the safe Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had Did you think I had in me? Oh, the tragedy …
So long, London You’ll find someone …
I didn’t opt in to be your odd man out I founded the club she’s heard great things about I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath I stopped CPR, after all it’s no use The spirit was gone, we would never come to And I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free
For so long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun I’ll find someone …
And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip Holding tight to your quiet resentment and My friends said it isn’t right to be scared Every day of a love affair Every breath feels like rarest air When you’re not sure if he wants to be there So how much sad did you think I had, Did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? Just how low did you think I’d go? Before I’d self-implode Before I’d have to go be free
You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days And I’m just getting color back into my face I’m just mad as hell cause I loved this place
For so long, London Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I’m not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You’ll find someone …
Some of you have probably seen some of my online content and my business name of Rooted WELL. I thought I would describe the origin or intentions behind my brand (brand a loose term at this point as the ship is being built as I’m sailing it, including potentially changing the logo you see below).
I believe one of my strengths is being able to explore underneath the surface of problematic behaviors or relationships in order to not just address a symptom, but enact change fully. In kids with trauma, this could mean attachment ruptures, early childhood trauma, the environment being harmful, etc. My hope is that I can inspire educators and caregivers to do the same.
Strong roots and foundations make us more resilient in storms. The struggles of life (storms) can not be prevented 100%, therefore it is important to me to prepare children and people I am working with to have the strength and skills to navigate those storms and stay standing (we could really extend this metaphor quite far here I suppose).
I first heard this concept in a yoga class over 10 years ago and it has really stuck with me. Trees may sway and be heavily affected by the weather (external pressures and problems), but with strong roots, they stay standing AND grow stronger as a result. Love this as a foundation for my goals with clients I work with.
I hope to adapt this for a future tattoo. Stay tuned for the final result!
I am also obsessed with the interconnectedness (and invisibility) of roots beneath what we see above ground. Now that I’ve migrated out of being kid-facing in schools, I am looking to focus on those adults that build the connection and web AROUND the child to help it grow big and strong. The concept of “it takes a village” fully and whole-heartedly apply here, ESPECIALLY as it pertains to children who have experienced trauma.
My roots in the PNW are also very much tied to my choosing of this name….where the beauty and majesty of trees are all around us. Plus, my grandmother and me shared this love of trees and she is a beautiful part of my ROOTS as well. I am always on the search for the prettiest or most unique tree and will always think of her when I do.
The view from my walk yesterday in Anacortes, WA.
And my email sign off for those of you not on my email list yet: WISHING you WELL always, Patti
My sweet grandmother, at the amazing age of 93 passed away in early May. Most in my circle know how important she is to me and how spending time with her both as a child and as an adult (and mother) has been so special for me. When I say I want to be her when I grow up, it is the truest words I can probably say. Her warm, welcoming nature combined with a little fire and wit is a combination that won many over but also allowed her to raise a giant family and network of humans that also care for each other deeply.
Once she went into hospice care, family came from all over to be with her….which was her wish. When asked what she wanted to talk about with 20+ family members surrounding her, she weakly pointed to herself and said “me.” (Maybe I got my enneagram 3 genes from her???). We all gathered around, feeling the weight of sadness but got to be entertained by her humor and joyful non-verbal expressions for hours on her last night of lucid-ness.
I have been honored to experience death and it’s sorrowful, yet sacred beauty at multiples times in my life and this time, it was no different. Her life was honored….it ended surrounded by the family and love that she deserved and it made me appreciate the generation of cousins that I was born into. I loved connecting with those that I live further from and planning get-togethers so we can stay connected in the future. Bonded by our upbringing in a family that my grandparents built with love, trust, and doses of values and expectations (that probably wasn’t always valued as positive things by all who received them).
I got to create the tribute slideshow for her which was magical for me….going through years and years of meticulously organized photo albums is my happy place and I was honored to do it. If you’d like to see it, click here (the full thing is 28 minutes but there are some cringey Patti hairstyles toward the end if you’re patient).
Last Weber Christmas celebration at the Willows.6 (strong) granddaughter Pallbearers.Squished by love.Love this photo.Oldest and youngest granddaughters.Oldest and youngest GREAT granddaughters.Family get-together the night before the service.
Thank you for showering all of us with love and your legacy of kindness and faith Gramma. Hope you’re giggling and getting adored by Grampa up there.
Oodles and oodles of love, Patti
P.S. This will be the first blog post I don’t publish and email to my sweet Gramma who didn’t want to go through all the trouble of subscribing and looking for it on her own, but also liked an personalized email from me which I appreciated.
Each month since re-discovering some of Taylor’s newer work, there seems to be one song that rises to the surface as extra meaningful or is played on repeat from my Spotify. I thought I would document those songs here to reflect on at a later date.
Better Man I know I’m probably better off on my own Than lovin’ a man who didn’t know What he had when he had it And I see the permanent damage you did to me Never again, I just wish I could forget when it was magic
I wish it wasn’t 4 a.m., standing in the mirror Saying to myself, you know you had to do it I know the bravest thing I ever did was run
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man But I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man A better man
I know I’m probably better off all alone Than needing a man who could change his mind at any given minute And it was always on your terms I waited on every careless word Hoping they might turn sweet again Like it was in the beginning
But your jealousy, oh, I can hear it now Talking down to me like I’ll always be around Push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun Oh, you never thought I’d run
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man But I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man A better man
I hold onto this pride because, these days, it’s all I have And I gave to you my best, and we both know you can’t say that
I wish you were a better man I wonder what we would’ve become If you were a better man We might still be in love If you were a better man You would’ve been the one If you were a better man Yeah, yeah
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can feel you again But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man But I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man A better man
We might still be in love, if you were a better man (But I just miss you, and I just wish you were a better man) yeah, yeah
I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand But I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man A better man
We might still be in love, if you were a better man You would’ve been the one If you were a better man
Each month since re-discovering some of Taylor’s newer work, there seems to be one song that rises to the surface as extra meaningful or is played on repeat from my Spotify. I thought I would document those songs here to reflect on at a later date.
Death by a Thousand Cuts Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Flashbacks waking me up I get drunk, but it’s not enough ‘Cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby I look through the windows of this love Even though we boarded them up Chandelier’s still flickering here ‘Cause I can’t pretend it’s ok when it’s not It’s death by a thousand cuts
I dress to kill my time I take the long way home I ask the traffic lights if it’ll be all right They say, “I don’t know” And what once was ours is no one’s now I see you everywhere The only thing we share Is this small town
You said it was a great love One for the ages But if the story’s over Why am I still writing pages?
‘Cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Flashbacks waking me up I get drunk, but it’s not enough ‘Cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby I look through the windows of this love Even though we boarded them up Chandelier still flickering here ‘Cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not It’s death by a thousand cuts
My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn’t touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from our paper thin plans
My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Trying to find a part of me you didn’t take up Gave you too much but it wasn’t enough But I’ll be all right, it’s just a thousand cuts
I get drunk but it’s not enough ‘Cause you’re not my baby I look through the windows of this love Even though we boarded them up Chandelier’s still flickering here ‘Cause I can’t pretend it’s ok when it’s not No, it’s not
It’s death by a thousand cuts (you didn’t touch) Trying to find a part of me that you didn’t touch My body, my love, my trust (it’s death by a thousand cuts) But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough, no, no
I take the long way home I ask the traffic lights if it’ll be all right They say, “I don’t know”
