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Posted in Akira, Amy Douangmany, Ariyah, Malynah, Maylana, Romance, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, There’s a saying I once heard:

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

to truly love someone, you need to know them.

It’s 1:40 AM, and my mind is swimming in this strange déjà vu. Here I am, exchanging messages with someone whose name I don’t know, whose gender I couldn’t even guess, and whose life feels worlds apart from mine. They’re from Singapore, studying in China, and somehow, across the vast oceans and time zones, they reached out with an invitation to join a TikTok Creators Live Network. I don’t entirely grasp the concept yet, but their gesture fills me with excitement and possibility.

It’s funny—this feels like having a pen pal in the digital age. We’re connected not by stamps but by a shared energy, a quiet understanding. This person, whoever they are, seems genuinely invested in my growth, and that’s humbling. It reminds me of something I’ve been realizing lately: sometimes, the people who want the best for you come from unexpected places. This moment feels like a blessing, a tiny seed of hope planted in the soil of my journey.

After a beautiful week with my children—my girls lighting up the weekend with their smiles—I’ve found this unwavering belief in the idea that everything will be okay. My kids deserve every ounce of love I can give, and they remind me, over and over, why I keep pushing forward. People come and go in life, often leaving scars, but my children’s love? It’s as pure and unconditional as it gets.

There’s a saying I once heard: to truly love someone, you need to know them. That resonates deeply with me, especially when I think of my kids. They notice the smallest details about me—when I’m tired, when I’m worried—and their concern touches my soul in ways I can’t describe. Their love teaches me that sacrifices aren’t burdens but bridges to something greater.

Yet, with love comes vulnerability. Not all connections are safe; some come with their share of betrayal and hurt. And then there are those rare ones that feel like home—no drama, no pretense, just a quiet kind of love. Those connections remind me that love doesn’t need flashy titles, material gifts, or grand gestures. Sometimes, love is simply enough.

I’ve been reflecting on how much of myself I’ve given away in relationships. Sharing your story, your quirks, and your dreams with someone feels like an investment, but when things end, it can feel like they’ve walked away with pieces of you. Still, even in those moments, there’s growth. You learn, you heal, and you come to understand that every connection, fleeting or lasting, has its purpose.

So here’s my takeaway for today: love, in all its forms, is never wasted. Whether it’s a stranger reaching out across the globe, the quiet bond with my children, or a connection that leaves without warning, every thread of love weaves into the fabric of who we are. And that, I think, is the real gift.

Love always,

Amy

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Blog, Healing, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, When I finally reach the other side,

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

I imagine it will feel like a breath of fresh air.

It feels like there’s a collision happening inside me—somewhere between the luteal phase and the menstrual phase. That space is where my emotions hit the hardest. I start thinking deeply, feeling things intensely, almost all at once. And every time I tell my story, I’m reminded of how blessed I am when the person listening is understanding and empathetic.


It’s always the people who know nothing about me who assume my life is perfect… until they hear the truth. Then they slowly realize how strong I’ve had to be, how much I’ve endured—as someone who looks so fragile, elegant, happy, and independent on the outside.

This year feels like a stepping stone.
Though honestly, I don’t know how many stepping stones a person is supposed to need. Usually one should be enough—you step, cross over, and reach the other side.
But I’m still making my way through mine. And when I finally reach the other side, I imagine it will feel like a breath of fresh air.

When I’m moving through chaos with music playing and surrounded by family, friends, and love—and then I have a moment to myself alone—that’s when everything settles in. Recently, I felt like I was gifted something special. And I hold these gifts close because they don’t feed my sadness; they lift me. They remind me to rise.

I’ve had to remind myself that I’m still young. I’m not tired of life. I’m not tired of living or being excited about life. I’m just tired of the strange things that happen.
And acknowledging that—accepting that life comes in phases—helps me breathe.
When you’re going through it, sometimes the only option is to go through it. But you always, ALWAYS – have to come out of it stronger and better.

Right now, my mood is calm.
Sometimes these thoughts come to me while I’m driving.
A wave moves across my chest—like a slow, emotional rollercoaster—and I catch my reflection. I look beautiful tonight. My hair is lightly tousled, my lashes are done, and I’ve been taking care of myself—making sure I look good, feel good, smell good every day.

I’m just having a quiet moment.
Just thinking.
Just trying not to become someone who forgets herself in the middle of staying strong.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Blog, Healing, Meditation, Parenthood

Dear Diary, Right now, the bass is humming through my car,

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

vibrating through my chest.

I am fighting tears right now. I’m just hoping I can make it to my destination without breaking down. I needed to get in my car, breathe, and clear my head for a moment. Everything is technically under control… yet sometimes it feels like I’m not. It’s so easy to forget how much support I truly have around me, and how not everyone will understand me. Being misunderstood is such a heavy feeling—that’s why I try my best not to judge others. I know how deeply it stings when someone assumes the worst about you.

Tonight is one of those dark nights where it feels like time is folding backwards. The sky is heavy, and so is my heart. My gas light has been on for a while now. I keep checking it but I still haven’t stopped to fill up. For some reason, I just don’t want to. It reminds me of how I force myself to eat just enough to get by but never enough to actually feel full—only doing the bare minimum to survive.

But even in this moment, I know what my limits are. And that’s the message I want to leave behind at the end of this blog:
Learn your limits. Respect them. And when you run low, refill yourself before life forces you to shut down.

Because sometimes that tiny bit of fuel you’re running on is all you have left. And once you hit empty, you have no choice but to get back up, go again, refill your tank, and rebuild yourself. It’s okay to run low. It’s okay to admit it’s hard. It’s okay to say, “This is the best I can do today.”

This is all part of being misunderstood—people don’t see the exhaustion, the overstimulation, the stress, the lack of strength… or even the lack of funds that make it hard to keep up with life. They don’t see the private battles. They just make assumptions.

My heart feels so heavy tonight. Maybe it’s because I finally feel ready to speak on my losses this year. I’ve lost people. I’ve lost habits—some good, some bad. I’ve lost pieces of myself in ways I never expected. But somewhere inside all of this, I know a more beautiful version of me is trying to emerge. I’m hoping this year ends with a lighter heart, more structure, more stability, and the closure I need on the things and people who no longer serve me.

I want to grow. I want to feel free. I want to stop feeling like I can’t fill up my tank or nourish myself fully. Sometimes I eat myself into a food coma just so I can sleep deeply, just so I can escape. Food is comfort, but it could be so much more fulfilling if I wasn’t running from my emotions.

Life can be better. The ride can be smoother. The rims can shine brighter. The sun can hit differently. But I have to actually want it. And sometimes I do… sometimes I don’t. But the moment you truly want something, nothing will get in your way. And I’m trying—really trying—to find that awakening again. To fill myself up. To fill my heart. To restore what’s been drained.

Earlier, I posted a TikTok with a sound that kept repeating, “love me,” like a soft, harmonized acapella. It was soothing and overwhelming all at once. It brought tears to my eyes because it reminded me of when my father passed away. I remember live streaming that night, trying to cope in the only way I knew how. Losing someone who loved you your entire life leaves a wound that never fully closes.

My dad’s love wasn’t perfect, but it was perfect for me. And maybe that’s why I grew up wanting so little from everyone. I accepted the bare minimum because I never wanted to drain people—I wanted them to save some love for themselves. My dad did that. And I learned from it.

But I also realized I cannot control how people view me. They will think what they want. They will conclude what they want. They will decide whether I’m worthy of their time, their space, their energy. And I’ve learned to be okay with that. The ones who truly want to know me will try. The ones who want to misunderstand me will twist the smallest things into entire narratives. And yes, that hurts—but everything that hasn’t killed me has made me stronger.

So here I am, fighting tears, learning the harsh truth that life doesn’t get easier—you just get better at fighting through the pain. Especially when the people closest to you choose to misunderstand you on purpose, creating stories in their minds and stamping you with labels you never deserved.

What keeps me grounded is knowing this:
If they can be that wrong about me, I can be just as wrong about them. And somehow, that’s the strange beauty of life.

Right now, the bass is humming through my car, vibrating through my chest. My heart is jumpy, tight, almost wringing itself out. It’s an epiphany mixed with sadness, mixed with clarity—a rush of pain that somehow hurts in a way that feels cleansing, even though I know it isn’t good for me. Instead of fighting it, I’m letting it wash over me.

I’m wearing a hoodie, driving my Mercedes, grateful for the tint on my windows. It gives me just enough privacy to break down quietly. Tinted windows aren’t just for hiding from enemies or prying eyes—sometimes they’re protection from the world. Protection from the people who don’t deserve to see you at all.

People can search for me online, can watch me from afar—I won’t hide my life. But they don’t get access to me. The tint is symbolic. They might catch a glimpse of me for a split second, but that’s all they get now. No more forced greetings, no more eye contact, no more pretending. Just distance. Just indifference.

Life has taught me that if I love myself enough, there will always be enough love inside me to give—carefully, intentionally, and to the right people.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m learning to let that love circle back to me.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Blog, Parenthood, Self Reflection, Uncategorized

Dear Diary, Growing up, I never thought I’d have to protect myself –

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

from people who once claimed to love me.

The sky is unusually bright this morning—pastel, almost powdery, even though today turned out to be another rainy day. Just two days ago, the forecast showed nothing but sunshine. I guess even the weatherman can’t predict everything until the last minute. A part of me was disappointed when I originally saw no rain, because rain always feels cleansing, like the world pressing the reset button. But life has a funny way of giving you what you need exactly when you weren’t expecting it. So now here it is: a bright, gloomy-blue sky filled with soft white clouds, and somehow it’s still beautiful.

The clock hit 8 AM, and the girls were already off to school. Morning chaos always comes with its own soundtrack—cars rushing down the wet street, engines humming, the distant honk of someone in a hurry, and windshield wipers swishing back and forth. During drop-off, I gave my motherly reminders the way I always do: Have a great day. Stay warm. Try your best. I’m proud of you. I try to validate their efforts, big and small, because I want to give them the kind of emotional support my family gives me every day. Love comes in so many forms for us—often through food, gentle conversations, small acts of care—not just “I love you,” but the actions that prove it.

Today feels like a good day to tackle a few things so that tomorrow can be lighter, and the weekend can be peaceful. I don’t plan for weekends the way I used to. I’ve been toning things down and practicing being more frugal, not out of restriction but out of respect for my own financial security. People online don’t talk enough about how important it is to be financially mindful. When you know where your money goes, life becomes less unpredictable. You make room not only for what you need, but sometimes for what you want.

I had a bad dream last night—one that woke me up several times. When I did a small dream analysis this morning, it hit me how much I’ve been undermined as a mother, and honestly, as an individual. It hurts to realize so late how often others have tried to control the relationship I have with my own children. I’m hoping for more freedom soon—the freedom to parent the way I know is best, the freedom to build a healthy emotional dynamic, and the freedom from interference. It’s exhausting to constantly be told how to raise, share, and care for the children I’ve always prioritized without crossing anyone else’s boundaries.

I don’t see myself as a victim, but I am finally acknowledging that the system, the circumstances, and the games being played are unbalanced. Like a Libra’s scale—never settling, always shifting. And speaking of zodiacs, Gemini energy is often misunderstood. Geminis mirror people, showing them who they truly are, and when people get a taste of their own behavior reflected back, suddenly they claim to be the victim. Maybe that’s why Geminis hide their wounds so well—we don’t like identifying as victims, even when everything points to the fact that we are.

Every time I feel myself drifting toward that victim narrative, the part of me committed to growth pulls me back. I remind myself not to internalize anyone’s projections. I don’t want to walk around wounded or bitter, even though the truth runs deeper behind my smile. Instead, I’ve learned to use these imbalances as fuel to strengthen myself. But no one talks about how creating boundaries comes with consequences. Saying “no,” calling out behavior, not tolerating disrespect—those things are healthy, but the backlash isn’t always easy. It’s like taking iron supplements when you’re anemic—the solution helps, but the side effects can still be uncomfortable.

Life is full of laws and rules that are supposed to protect us, yet people break them every day. Some do it out of entitlement, others out of carelessness. Laws only work for people who respect them, and not everyone does. Sometimes, we don’t realize we’re being harmed until the damage has already settled in. Just like how we don’t always realize we’ve become victims until we look back and see the whole picture.

This morning’s dream reminded me of that. It was built from fear, anxiety, and knowing that I can’t always stop bad things from happening—even if I try my hardest. Growing up, I never thought I’d have to protect myself from people who once claimed to love me. Love is such a double-edged sword. Beautiful, but sharp enough to wound. There’s such a thin line between love and hate, and I’ve walked that line far too often.

I tell people on my livestreams all the time: love yourself first. Because if your heart—your cup—is empty, you can’t pour anything meaningful into someone else. And some people with empty cups don’t even know what love is, because they’ve never given it to themselves. You can’t teach love to someone who’s immune to it. They want it, but they can’t receive it. It’s like giving caffeine to someone who can’t feel its effects.

I’m at a point in life where I don’t want to be entangled with people who drain me or pull me into their misery. Some people are so unhappy that they try to drag others into that darkness, and I’m not doing that anymore. I’m grateful that I’m still here, still resilient, still creating boundaries even when the consequences feel heavy.

Last night, I talked to the girls about how food is part of our family’s love language. Not just simple “I love you” phrases, but cooking together, eating together, sharing moments. Prepping ingredients, washing vegetables, stirring pots, monitoring the heat, cleaning as you go—every little step becomes an offering of love. A home-cooked meal holds value you can’t put a price on. You really get to know someone when you share food with them, especially meals made with intention. Even gathering groceries, choosing ingredients, planning a dinner—it all means something.

At the end of the day, love isn’t loud. It isn’t flashy. It isn’t always spoken. Love is shown in the way we support each other, validate each other, sit quietly with each other, and offer a hand when the load is heavy. Love is the rain that comes unexpectedly. Love is the morning street noise. Love is the bright sky on a gloomy day. Love is the meal you share with someone who knows your heart.

And love is the reason I keep rebuilding myself, over and over again.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Ariyah, Blog, Parenthood

Dear Diary, The quiet at her resting place…

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

always brings a mix of peace and heartache.

It’s 1:48 PM, and I’m driving, still processing the day. The weather is absolutely beautiful, a soft contrast to yesterday’s chill when it was windy and lightly sprinkling.

Yesterday, Sunday, October 26, I made my way to my beloved daughter’s gravesite. As I stood there looking at her headstone, it felt like both so much time and no time at all had passed. Nine years. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. The quiet at her resting place always brings a mix of peace and heartache. It’s where I feel closest to her, but it also reminds me how much I miss her.

On Monday, October 27, today, the day of her ninth year passing, I met up with my friend for lunch at Tasty Pot around noon. We laughed, caught up, and talked about all the little dramas that seem to follow women no matter our age, how stable we are, or how busy life gets. There’s always something, some story, some emotion, some lesson.

But when she asked me what I’ve been up to, my mind froze. The only thing I could think of was visiting my daughter’s grave. Saying that out loud felt heavy. When I looked up, I noticed her pause, her eyes softened, and I could see the sadness in her expression. I asked if she was okay, and she just nodded. It was a quiet moment of understanding between friends.

Despite the emotional weight, I’m so thankful for her. She truly is my best friend, one of those rare, genuine people who are just there for you without needing to fix anything. Friendships like that are hard to find, and I don’t take them for granted.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the people who have stood by me, and even the ones I’ve had to distance myself from. Some may not understand, but any space I’ve created has always come from a place of love, love for them and love for my children. Every decision I make is rooted in protection and peace.

The world feels heavy right now. Between politics, changing laws, and the way society seems to be shifting, it’s hard not to feel uneasy. Crimes feel different, resources are thinning, and people’s rights are being challenged more than ever. I think about the families struggling to get by, the seniors who have no next phase to look forward to, and the children whose parents are just trying to make ends meet.

I’m grateful for the love and support that surround me, but I’ve also learned that even love can sometimes be enabling. It can hold you back from realizing your own strength. Still, I’m thankful for every helping hand, every listening ear, and every moment where I get to set down the weight I carry, even for a little while.

As I get older, I realize how much harder it is to be truly heard. People assume that by now we should “know better,” but the truth is, no one has it all figured out. We’re all just doing the best we can, learning, falling, and growing along the way. Change, even the kind that hurts, can sometimes be what fixes the broken parts of our lives and our world.

So I hold on to faith that those with influence and power are making decisions for the greater good, that somehow all of this shifting and struggling will lead us toward something better.

Today, Monday, October 27, I find myself just reflecting on visiting her gravesite yesterday. I hope things get better. I hope the world becomes a little softer. And I hope that one day we can all feel safe, secure, and at peace again.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, Whatever it is,

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

I have it now.

I just realized something that changed how I view my own body. Maybe periods are actually a good thing. Not necessarily for everyone, but for me.


At this stage in my life, I’ve come to understand that my cycle isn’t just a monthly inconvenience. It’s a teacher. During the luteal phase, our dopamine and serotonin levels naturally drop, which can lead to mood swings or emotional sensitivity. But I’ve learned to see that as an opportunity. My period forces me to face emotions I often try to suppress. It’s like a built-in reminder that I’m human, that I’m allowed to feel, release, and reset.

In a way, I’ve realized how difficult it must be to be a man. Society teaches most men to internalize their feelings, to avoid vulnerability, and to suppress emotion. And yet, emotions are what make us real. They connect us. There’s such power in being open, honest, and vulnerable.

Today, I shared my thoughts about the kind of people we keep close. The ones who genuinely want to see us win, who check in, and who make an effort to include us. Those are the people worth keeping. My best advice? Set the standards and expectations for yourself sky high. But set the expectations you have of others low, or even none at all. That way, when people show up for you, you’ll always appreciate it, not because you expect it, but because it’s genuine.

Life is a constant roller coaster, and I’m no stranger to that ride. Consideration and communication are everything. I’ve also learned that not every room or conversation deserves my presence. Whether it’s a birthday, a party, or even a funeral, I’m okay with not showing up where my peace isn’t protected.

People often misread my journey. They see the dinners, the rooftop nights, or the quiet escapes and assume life is effortless. What they don’t see are the battles I fight internally, the healing, the lessons, the rebuilding. But I know everything is unfolding exactly as it should. Timing, discipline, and faith are carrying me forward.

From here on, I’ve decided no more sad tears. The next time I cry, it’ll be from joy. I’m trusting that season is coming sooner than later.

This life has been teaching me so much, and I’m deeply grateful for it all. In 2025, I see myself continuing to grow, and five years from now, I see myself as a multimillionaire. I see my business thriving, my passport stamped, and my heart full. Maybe all I ever needed was the right mindset, the right people, and the right energy around me.

Whatever it is, I have it now. And from this point forward, the only way is up.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Healing, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, When you run empty…

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

it’s ugly.

I’m not in a rush;
not to arrive, not to reach a final destination.
Every time we think we’ve found “the end,” life proves us wrong.
The world is full of surprises,
and humanity, with all its beauty and chaos, is inescapable:
the good and the bad,
the structure and the instability,
the security and the insecurities,
the light and the crimes that shadow it all.

Tonight I realize something powerful:
I don’t want to control anyone,
and I refuse to be controlled.
I want to release.
I ask the gods, the greater good, and the holy spirits
to shield me from anything that might chain me;
any person, any spirit.
I deserve to fly free.

The weight I’ve carried feels like anchors
dragging behind a massive ship.
But I’m ready to rise.
I want to float.
I want to fly.
I want to climb higher and higher
until the pain that once held me fades into the clouds.

I’ve never felt that I wasn’t enough.
Instead, I’ve often felt others weren’t ready to meet me
in the depth of love I offered.
I poured and poured
even from an empty cup
and still, it was never enough.
Because there is no such thing as “enough.”

When someone asks, “How much is enough?”
I can only say: it doesn’t exist.
Life isn’t about measuring love or effort;
it’s about pouring into yourself
and into those who truly receive it,
so that your well never runs dry.

Because when you run empty,
it’s ugly.
It’s lonely.
It’s the worst feeling in the world.

So I choose freedom.
I choose to stay full.
I choose to set myself free.

Posted in Akira, Amy Douangmany, Ariyah, Malynah, Maylana

Dear Diary, Maybe I’ve never truly faced fear

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

until now.

Today the weather is gray, and I feel it settling into me. This heaviness has been lingering for days—so dense it almost buzzes, like a quiet overstimulation. I feel uncertain, even a little scared. Maybe I’ve never truly faced fear until now: fear of the unknown, fear of letting go, fear of stepping into a different version of myself.

But that’s the version I’m reaching for—the one who is softer, steadier, secure and loved. I’ve always been grateful for the support I’ve received, but I often wonder how long it lasts. Will it fade? Should it? Sometimes the love that carries us can also weigh us down. Support is beautiful, but it can become a quiet burden for the giver.

As I turn toward this new chapter, I want to walk into it alone for a while. I need time to process the past three years—the ones that stretched and blurred until a single year felt like a decade. I’m tired of defending, of worrying, of the constant fight. I want a kind of stillness that feels untouchable.

It’s like waiting for a new song to drop. I keep replaying old favorites because I know them; they’ve carried me through heartbreak and hope. But eventually, the new songs will come. Some I’ll love. Some I’ll skip. Some might change me entirely.

Maybe the next song of my life won’t even have words—just music. Something gentle yet lifting, a melody that lets my heart find its own rhythm. Just imagining it, I can almost hear the harmony waiting for me.

With so much love,

Amy Douangmany

Posted in Akira, Amy Douangmany, Healing, Parenthood, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, Value is not always about expense…

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

it is about the care and intention.

Today was a really lovely day. I am finally winding down, not in a candlelit skincare kind of way, but with something far more indulgent: a Supreme Doritos taco. It has been ages since I have had one, and I am not sure when my love for tacos faded. These days I am more of a noodle and pasta person, but tonight the craving won.

I spent the afternoon with Kira, shopping at Daiso for extra school supplies and a few things to feed my own love of reading, writing, and continuous learning. We found her the softest pajama set with sparkly butterflies and a matching sleep mask. She knew exactly what she wanted. Not a headband, but a sleep mask. I love that about her, the clarity of knowing what fits you.

Our final mission was shoes. She tried on silver, black, and pink pairs in the same size, but none felt right. And that is the thing about fit: it is rarely just about size. Whether it is shoes, friendships, or relationships, sometimes you try to make something work because you love it, but it simply is not your fit. Comfort, texture, and the way it makes you feel all matter. Eventually we found the perfect pair: black with pearls on a soft memory foam and a subtle shine, ready for every season and even matching her coat.

I could not help thinking about how shoes mirror our own growth. Over time I have raised my own standards. The price tag is not everything, but it reflects how much I am willing to invest in quality and in myself. About a month ago I picked up a pair of heels and some Birkenstocks, and I wear them constantly. Value is not always about expense; it is about the care and intention you bring to what you choose.

The best pair of shoes, like the best relationships, deserve investment—emotional, physical, even financial. Money matters, but never more than the comfort and confidence a true fit provides.

Now I am home, ready to slip off my shoes, shower, pamper my skin, and rest my bare feet. The perfect ending to a day that fit just right.

Tomorrow is another day, and I am looking forward to bringing my best foot forward. I may be moving through changes and different chapters of my life. I do not always announce my struggles or my wins, but there will always be signs—whether in moments of quiet detachment, unexpected distance, small celebrations, tears of joy, or even the soft grieving of a lifestyle that no longer fits the person I am becoming.

Cheers in advance to the next perfect fit.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Blog, Parenthood, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, The path is not always clear…

Posted on by Ms. Amy D


but I am on it.

Lately, I have been feeling extremely overwhelmed, yet I am still holding on, holding on to hope, to dreams, to goals, to peace, to security, to stability. I am holding on to the reward that comes from being patient, resilient, kind, giving, and forgiving. In this vast world of billions of people, there are moments when I feel profoundly alone.

Part of me feels like something is missing, though I cannot quite put the pieces together. I long for distance, for individuality, where I do not rely on anyone and no one relies on me. Where for once it is truly about me and the battles I fight are only for me.

Life becomes entangled when others depend on us for love, emotional support, financial support, and guidance. In those moments, decisions are rarely ours alone. I realize now that I have not often been able to make things about me in a way that is truly mine.

I crave experiences that feel deeply personal, traveling, seeing the world through my own eyes, romanticizing my life and the idea of love in a way that is intimate and authentic. It may take years, especially as a mother of young children, whose needs shape every day. But I hope that as they grow, they encounter kindness, integrity, and love in abundance. I hope their journeys are lighter than mine has felt lately.

The past few years, I have not met enough people who make life easier in the ways I desire. Not because they have not tried, but because my standards are high. High standards make people look at you differently. Some do not like it. Some quietly or loudly resent it. Yet in the respect they hold, there is acknowledgment of my clarity, my precision, and my drive toward the results I envision. I will continue forward relentlessly until my last breath.

My personal growth is ongoing. I see areas I want to refine, my bluntness, my harsh honesty, and my unfiltered truth that may feel disrespectful to others. But those who take the time to understand will see that my intentions are always rooted in authenticity and care. Life is about mindsets. Even in struggle, in obstacles, in moments of uncertainty, we are worthy, capable, and deserving. Roadblocks do not diminish value; they challenge us to grow.

I have learned that sharing plans and struggles often opens the door to judgment rather than understanding. People rarely credit effort or see the rationale. But I am accountable to myself. There is only one me, and I trust my growth, my manifestation, and the daily steps I take forward, whether recognized or unseen by others.

Good things are coming, not only for me but for those who align with this energy. The path is not always clear, but I am on it, unwavering. When I arrive, I hope to see all the lessons, the growth, and the journey reflected in the beauty of the life I have courageously built. I am on my way, and I hope to see you there too.

Posted in Amy Douangmany, Healing, Parenthood, Self Reflection

Dear Diary, As certain things in my life begin to align…

Posted on by Ms. Amy D

I realize how simple my heart’s desires truly are.

I’m sitting here tonight, in the quiet stillness after the sun has slipped below the horizon. The sky not too long ago was painted in streaks of lavender, rose-gold, and deep orange, the kind of breathtaking gradient that makes me pause every single time. Sunsets have always been my favorite. The way the light melts into the sky feels like a reminder that endings can be just as beautiful as beginnings.

As I sit here, I feel a wave of gratitude washing over me. These past months… really, the past two years have felt heavy, slow, and sometimes unbearably still. Lazy, in a way, though not in the sense of doing nothing, but more like a long stretch of waiting, healing, and piecing myself back together. Now, as certain things in my life begin to align, I realize how simple my heart’s desires truly are: to be happy, to be at peace, to keep discovering little joys that make my soul light up and my eyes glisten.

I’m learning that peace doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from being seen and heard. From someone showing, not just saying, that they notice me, that they understand me. It’s in patience, even when things feel frustrating or complicated. It’s in knowing that if a hard decision ever had to be made, the choice would be to put me first, to put *us* first, to put the children first… never the opposite. That kind of love feels like a soft place to land.

And still, through it all, I hold close the blessings I already have. My health may not be perfect, but it is steady enough to carry me. I can stand firmly, both on my two feet and on the life I am building. I can still see the colors of the sky, hear the laughter of my children, and choose every single day between what is good for me and what is not. These are gifts I remind myself never to overlook.

Because each day, life quietly gives us that choice: to look at others with compassion, to try to see them in the best light even when they don’t stand in it themselves… or to let bitterness cloud our vision. I remind myself that often people reflect what they hold inside; if they cannot see goodness in others, it’s usually because they struggle to see it in themselves.

So tonight, under the memory of the sunset’s glow, I feel content. I look forward to each new day, even the uncertain ones. For the first time in a long time, I truly feel that things are unfolding in the right direction. And above all, my heart is full of gratitude.