I didn't intend to blog during this holiday. In fact, I didn't intend to be found at all. I wanted to go quietly, not loud, not flashy, not announcing my every move. I simply slipped out of the United States and landed in the Dominican Republic. Some people knew where I was. Many didn't. That was the point. When you spend years rebuilding yourself, you eventually realize that not every beautiful thing needs an audience. Some things are sacred because they are lived first and shared later. And so here I am, sitting in Punta Cana with the ocean stretching endlessly before me, the sun rising outside my room, asking myself a simple question: How did I get here?
Not here geographically. Not to this resort, this private suite, this beautiful view that now greets me every morning. I mean here. To this place inside myself where I feel peaceful. Where I feel safe. Where I no longer have to prove my worth or earn my right to rest. And the truth is, I didn't arrive here through one grand moment. I got here through small choices. Tiny decisions repeated over and over again. The choice to heal. The choice to stop abandoning myself. The choice to leave behind identities that no longer fit. The choice to protect my peace fiercely and unapologetically. The choice to ask myself, every single day: Is this healthy for me? Does my nervous system feel safe here? And if the answer was no, I learned to walk away.
Four and a half years ago, after a devastating loss, I couldn't imagine this life. I couldn't imagine taking myself to dinner and enjoying my own company while the ocean sang in the background. I couldn't imagine laughing in Spanish class at fifty-three, making new friends, or feeling joy arrive so gently that I almost missed it. I couldn't imagine strangers showing me kindness for no reason other than simply being myself. The Dominican people have reminded me that joy isn't always loud. Sometimes joy is coffee served with a smile. Sometimes it's laughter with people you've only just met. Sometimes it's a forehead kiss offered with warmth and affection. Sometimes joy is finally realizing that you are allowed to take up space in the world exactly as you are.
Sacred After has never been about grief. Grief was simply the doorway. Sacred After is about what happens after. After loss. After heartbreak. After the identities you've outgrown have fallen away. It's about choosing yourself over and over until your outside world finally reflects the healing that has been taking place within you. I spent years believing I had to carry everything. Be everything. Hold up the sky for everyone else. But healing taught me something different. It taught me that peace is not something you stumble into. It's something you cultivate. Slowly. Intentionally. Patiently.
These days, I think of my life as a garden. I don't rush it anymore. I don't need to see the whole path at once. I don't need to know exactly who will walk beside me or what blessings are waiting ahead. I simply tend to what is in front of me. I trust the unfolding. And with each step, life reveals itself in ways I never imagined.
So if you're reading this and wondering how to get from where you are to where you dream of being, I want you to know that transformation isn't loud. It's not glamorous. It's made up of small choices. Tiny acts of courage. One boundary. One prayer. One brave decision to believe that your life can be beautiful again. You ask God, Source, Allah, the Universe, whatever sacred name speaks to your spirit: Show me who I can become. And then, every day, you choose her.
Because I have learned something standing here, oceans away from the woman I once was.
I was never broken.
I was always becoming.
And this beautiful, quiet, joy-filled life...
This is my Sacred After.
- Katina 💜
