New Era, No Pity: A Self-Built Life

When I started Pajama Life Chronicles, I thought I knew what I was doing.

I told myself it was about connection, about finding “my people,” about finally being seen. I was going to be raw and honest, tell my truth, share my struggles.

It sounded brave. It sounded healing.
It sounded like something I’d be proud of.

But if I peel back the layers now, with the clarity I didn’t have then, I see what it really was:
I was looking for pity.

Back Then

I was in a strange place — self-deprecating to the point of cruelty toward myself, weighed down by loathing for my own existence. I was busy attaching names and diagnoses to every corner of my mind, as if labeling the chaos might make it less chaotic.

I blamed myself for my daughter’s choices.
I convinced myself that if I just explained well enough, someone would understand.
And I thought — no, I hoped — that somewhere out there, someone would reach out their hand, pull me close, and take it all away.

But here’s the problem with hoping for rescue:
You forget you’ve got two hands of your own.

The Shift

It didn’t happen overnight. There wasn’t a lightning bolt moment where I stood up and declared myself healed.

It was quieter than that.
Smaller.

One day, I just realized:
I could reach out one hand to the other.
I could pull myself forward.
I didn’t need pity.
In fact — fuck pity.

I never wanted to be a social media influencer. I never wanted to chase likes, beg for follows, or treat my life like clickbait. All I really wanted was a place to say my piece and sell my shit.

Keeping the Past, Owning the Now

For a while, I thought about deleting the old blogs. Starting fresh. Scrubbing away the proof of where I’d been.

But here’s the truth: I earned those words.
Every messy sentence.
Every desperate post.

They’re staying — not because they define me, but because they remind me. They are mile markers on a road I have no intention of walking again.

What’s Changed

The woman who started Pajama Life Chronicles doesn’t live here anymore.

The colors have shifted to coastal greens and ocean blues, like the sea I’ve always run to when I need to breathe. The foliage that grounds me. The horizon that reminds me there’s always more to see.

The cooking phase? Gone.
The self-loathing? Washed out with the tide.

Now, this space is for grounded storytelling, unapologetic honesty, and creations that carry my voice in them — whether you hang them in your home, wear them on your chest, or toss them on your couch.

Where I Am Now

I’m not here to inspire you to live like me.
I’m not here to package up my life as a roadmap to yours.

I’m here to live my life — fully, unapologetically, in my own colors.
And if you see something I’ve made that speaks to you? Take it home. That’s enough.

Pajama Life Chronicles started as a cry for connection.
Now, it’s my declaration of independence.
And this time, I’m not reaching for anyone else’s hand.