This past weekend was Mother’s Day, and as I went for my morning walk to explore the area, I stumbled upon an oceanside garden here in Key West, Florida. I was surrounded by beauty—sunlight on the water, flowers blooming, the salty breeze—and yet, tears streamed down my face. I miss my mom.

I’ve been moving through a lot lately. Actually, it’s been a few intense weeks.

I’m six weeks into my nomadic journey. The first three? Magical. Expansive. Aligned. The last three? Deeply transformational—and not in the easy, breezy kind of way. A heaviness has taken up space in my chest, a kind I haven’t felt since my dog Echo passed in 2021. My mom passed not even two years before in 2019. Certain days and circumstances bring the grief rushing back, and this year, I just so happen to be on the adventure of a lifetime—and I wish more than anything I could tell my mom about it. A big part of me wishes I weren’t doing this alone.

So on days like today, and weeks like these past few, I’ve been feeling predominantly negative. That’s just the sincere truth—and it feels important to share it with you.

Because in our society, “negative” emotional experiences are inherently treated as wrong or something to fix. We’re told we shouldn’t feel sad, lonely, anxious, or stressed. We should be happy. And if we’re doing life right, we should be living “happy ever after”. While that’s a nice concept—and I do believe joy is our true nature—being human means feeling the full spectrum of emotions. The more we partner with our emotions, instead of resisting or judging them, the more we can move through them with grace and even mastery.

For all intents and purposes, I should be having the time of my life—exploring the Florida Keys, fulfilling a long-held dream. But the truth is: I am where I am. Several weeks into a massive life transition, coming to terms with the fact that I’m doing this solo—by choice, yes—but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard, especially on days like today.

One of the core tenets of the work I do is acceptance. Allowing what is to be as it is. It’s a cornerstone of mental and emotional wellbeing because so much suffering comes not from what we’re experiencing, but from resisting it. From telling ourselves we should feel differently. From comparing our current reality to expectations, or to the highlight reels of others.

When I feel bad about feeling bad, I double down on the pain. It becomes a spiral—the egoic mind latches on and creates even more problems to solve.

And that’s where the deeper work begins: the divine dance of integrating our higher self with our human self. Honoring both. If we deny our humanness, we risk spiritual bypass—using positivity, intellect, or detachment to avoid feeling our pain. If we deny our higher self, we risk justifying suffering as necessary or unchangeable. Taken to extremes, we see war waged in the name of peace. We see apathy in the name of “it’s all meant to be.”

This week, some patterns surfaced that feel important to name:

1. The sacredness of “negative” emotion.
We all go through seasons. Emotions like sadness, doubt, and grief often accompany major change. They are not signs we’re failing. They are signs we’re shedding. Something new is emerging—and the old must be honored, not rushed or ignored.

2. My relationship with the healthy divine masculine within me.
This showed up as doubt around my safety and security. A recurring theme. Being on the road has triggered old fears around survival—the belief that I should be practical, play it safe, be reasonable. That pursuing joy is dangerous. That following my heart is irresponsible. It’s a belief system that whispers: You can either be a starving artist or a corporate sell-out. There is no in-between.

3. Unconscious patterns around food.
Food has long been a comfort, a source of pleasure, comfort and safety. In the early weeks of my trip, I felt light, free, nourished. I even lost weight without trying. Food was a joyful experience. But as my mental state shifted and some depression set in, food became more of an escape—something to numb the discomfort rather than celebrate the moment or nourish my body. This habit to find comfort, safety and pleasure in food as a coping mechanism is showing me where I am avoiding dealing with the negative emotion or shadow.

4. I am too hard on myself.
And that criticism distracts me from being curious about what’s actually going on. When I judge myself for feeling low, I miss the wisdom in the discomfort. Negative emotion is not the problem—it’s a signal. A teacher. A nudge that I’m out of alignment with how my soul sees the situation. But instead of listening, I often spiral into shame or self-criticism, which pulls me further off course—and straight into coping mechanisms.

What I’m learning (again and again) is this:

Negativity and “darkness” are not failures.
They are signs. Indicators that something within us is shifting, evolving, asking to be seen. They may be uncomfortable, but they are sacred invitations. When we meet them with presence and ask, “What is this showing me?”—we reclaim our power. We move through the discomfort with more ease and grace (and maybe a few fewer Netflix binges and pints of Ben & Jerry’s... which are fine here and there, just maybe not for three weeks straight 😉).