Epiphany: Letting Go to Grow

Letting Go, Moving Forward

I started a blog in September 2021, sitting on my grandmother’s couch, watching her prepare to leave this world. I was a newlywed, fresh off my honeymoon in May, clinging to hope that my Nanny was just sick and would eventually recover—but I had to come to terms with the inevitable.

I had just resigned from my job and joined my family in a 24-hour rotation to care for her. That’s when we came up with the name Cinnamon and Potatoes—a blog for recipes. Our whole family was kitchen-oriented, and I was lucky enough to inherit the gene that lets you throw random ingredients together and end up with something delicious. My husband kept encouraging me to write down what I was making, and with time on my hands, I decided to give it a shot.

After she passed, everything fell to the wayside—but I didn’t want to let the blog go. Eventually, though, I realized that cooking wasn’t my only passion. It was also a way to feel close to someone I loved dearly. When I was ready to grow and move forward, I let the blog go.

Don’t get me wrong—I still love cooking. But now, it’s more of a hobby than a passion. Something just for me and my family to enjoy… unless I get a wild hair to write it down. Letting go of the emotional ties I had clung to was hard, but holding onto them had boxed me in. It became detrimental to my healing. I needed to find out who I was—not who someone else told me to be.

I’ve come to accept that I’m allowed to be more than one thing. I’m multifaceted. And I need to honor all parts of myself—discern what to shed and what to keep nurturing.

After Nanny passed, I threw myself into volunteer work. I wanted to give back to my community, but I quickly realized I wasn’t ready for the level of commitment it required. Though I’m proud of my willingness to serve, I ultimately had to step away—partly because of new employment restrictions, and partly for the sake of my mental health. I wasn’t ready, and I had to admit that. I don’t need to take on the world’s problems to avoid facing my own.

I stepped away from the workforce again and poured my energy into my family. But when that didn’t “fix” me, I realized I needed to fill my own cup if I was going to show up for the people I love. So I pulled back from everything and started my own journey.

My husband and I explored preventative therapy, and I began testing what truly brought me joy. It took starting a small business with my mother to rediscover a passion I had buried long ago.

As a child, I used to write. I still have stacks of journals and notes to myself, but I never shared my thoughts with the world. I posted on Facebook, shared recipes—but never my poetry, my musings, or the stories I had written. I never saw being an author as an option for a child of a truck driver and a manufacturing operator. That wasn’t something that put food on the table. But… what if I could do both?

Recently, while signing up for substitute teaching in my area, I stumbled on a project that stopped me in my tracks: The “I Am From” Project by George Ella Lyon. I found it just in time—I’ve recently started a writing group in my community, and I think this will be a perfect exercise for our first meeting. A way to get to know one another and share a piece of ourselves.

And here I am—diving feet-first into everything I want to explore. I even asked for help, which is new for me. I want to know if these things are meant for me, and the only way to find out is to try.

It took me a long time to accept that not all paths end the way you planned. But that doesn’t mean the journey wasn’t worth it. If you want something, you have to try. See where it goes. If the path ends, take another one. Keep your eyes open. Life will twist and turn and throw you for a loop—but it’s all about the journey.

No matter how cliché it may sound.

So here it goes: