With Chat GPT
This week, I moved gently—but I moved.
In the middle of big transitions, small steps can feel invisible. But looking back over the past few days, I see a quiet flurry of intention and courage, stitched together by care.
I began my Paralegal Certification through Duke Continuing Studies. I got my textbooks, organized my materials, and even imagined who I might become by the time I finish in October. I followed up on job applications—Whole Foods, CVS, Food Lion—and kept showing up for the next possible right thing.
Creatively, I sparked something new. I began envisioning an educational video series—something playful and practical, grounded in real literacy instruction. I even started shaping my study space into a mini classroom, whiteboard and all.
I wrote. I posted to my blog. I revised my “About Me” to reflect who I really am now—an educator in transition, a truth-seeker, a daughter, a woman who’s learning to hold her own story with as much care as she has held others’. And I dove into grief: for my mother, my father (in multiple losses), and for my dog, Fungus. I wrote: “Love doesn’t give you an exit—it gives you pain.” And yet, I’m still here. That’s something.
There were also little kindnesses—like being handed a butterscotch, just because. Or when Brutus got a long, sun-drenched walk. Or when I let myself rest instead of pushing through. These weren’t detours; they were part of the road.
So here I am, on a Friday, noticing what I might’ve missed had I only looked forward:
I’m becoming.
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