Beyond the Hustle

Tag: family

  • Our Faces Tell A Story….

    I took these photos on my 60th birthday, just a few short weeks ago. Why? To serve as a reminder—down the road—of who I am today. 

    Every face tells a story, and I thought I’d share mine… at least up to now.

    As I look back and begin to write my story, I know it’s not about being better or worse than anyone else’s—it’s simply mine, just as yours is uniquely yours.

    I was born in Chicago, IL, on March 25, 1965. My mother was only 16 years old—a baby herself. She married my father in an attempt to break the cycle of abuse and addiction that she had grown up in.

    Unsurprisingly, the marriage didn’t last. They divorced, and my earliest memories are a patchwork of change—new towns, new schools, new faces. My uncle (my mother’s brother) always lived with us and often felt more like a brother than an uncle. He was always fun, but man, could we fight!

    We moved a lot in those early years, and while that instability could have left me feeling lost, it sparked a deep resilience instead. I learned to adapt quickly, to read a room, to find my place—or make one—wherever I landed.

    I grew up fast. There wasn’t much choice. My mom did the best she could, and I now understand the strength it must have taken just to keep going under the weight of her own unhealed wounds. I didn’t always understand her then, but I have deep compassion for her now.

    That’s the thing about wisdom—it softens you. With time and perspective, you begin to see people and situations more clearly, with less judgment and more empathy.

    My father died by suicide when I was still young. That kind of loss leaves a scar that never really fades—it just becomes part of who you are. And when I was 46, I lost my mother—she passed away at the age of 63. Far too soon. Losing both parents before I was even 50 left me with a kind of loneliness that’s hard to explain—but it also gave me a greater appreciation for life, for healing, and for showing up fully while we still have the time.

    In many ways, my childhood taught me how to survive. But over the years, I’ve worked hard to do more than just survive—I’ve fought to thrive. And with each passing decade, I’ve become more of the woman I needed when I was a girl: grounded, self-aware, fiercely protective of my boundaries, and soft where it matters.

    Turning 60 felt big—not because of the number, but because of the reflection it invited. These photos aren’t about vanity. They’re about honoring the journey: the laugh lines earned from joy and sorrow, the strength etched into my bones by years of doing the hard inner work, and the beautiful, undeniable truth that aging is a privilege.

    I’m not finished writing my story. But now, I know—I’m the author, not just a character reacting to the plot. And I hope this encourages you—whether you’re 26 or 66—to embrace your own becoming. To celebrate the chapters you’ve already lived and to look ahead with hope and optimism to the ones still being written.

  • A Tribute to My Mother on My 60th Birthday

    Sixty years—a milestone that makes me pause and reflect on the journey that has brought me here. As I step into this new decade, my heart is filled with gratitude for the woman who shaped me, guided me, and loved me unconditionally: my mother.

    From my earliest memories, my mother was the constant force in my life. My Northstar. She was my first teacher, my fiercest protector, and my greatest cheerleader. She taught me resilience when times were tough, grace when challenges seemed insurmountable, and kindness as the foundation of every interaction. Her lessons were never just words; they were actions—woven into the fabric of everyday life.

    She showed me what strength looked like—not the loud or boastful kind, but the quiet, unwavering strength that gets up every morning, faces the world with determination, and gives selflessly to others. Whether it was late nights spent tending to me when I was sick, standing by my side during life’s difficult moments, or celebrating every small and big victory, she was always there.

    My mother’s love was never conditional. It was steady, enduring, and boundless. She had an incredible way of making me feel that no matter what life threw my way, I would be okay because I had her belief in me. And that belief? It became the foundation for my own self-confidence, for the courage to chase my dreams, and for the wisdom to navigate life’s twists and turns.

    Now, at sixty, I look back and realize how much of her is in me. The values she instilled, the love she gave, and the sacrifices she made—they are all etched into the person I have become. And though time has passed, her presence in my life remains just as strong, whether in memories, in the values I carry forward, or in the way I love those around me.

    So this week, as I celebrate this milestone, I dedicate it to my mother. To her love, her lessons, and her legacy. Because without her, I would not be the person I am today. And for that, I am forever grateful.

    Here’s to you, Mom—my guiding light, my heart, my home. Thank you for everything.

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