What could you do differently?
If I had to reflect on what I could do differently, I think it’s less about changing myself and more about leaning even further into my stories. I’ve lived through so many experiences—pawrenting adventures, spiritual revelations, moments of chaos that somehow became lessons in resilience. Maybe what I could do differently is embrace an even more unfiltered, unapologetic version of my voice.
I want to turn vulnerability into my superpower. I’ve always tried to balance humor with deep reflection, but what if I let go of the idea that my stories need to have a perfect ending? What if I shared the raw, messy, beautiful truth even more freely?
I could be bolder and more playful in everything I do—not just for my pups, but for myself. Maybe it’s time to write the unexpected, to take creative risks that surprise even me, and to embrace the quirky ideas that make me laugh when no one’s looking.
And I think I need to celebrate the “in-between” moments more. Life isn’t just about the milestones; it’s about the pauses, the attempts, the failures, and the small wins that happen in between. I want to lean into those gaps—they hold as much magic as the big, shiny moments.
Finally, maybe I need to expand my vision. I’ve poured so much heart into pawrenting, healing rituals, storytelling, and creative projects. What if I dreamed even bigger? Could I merge my passions into something unexpected—like a podcast-meets-poetry collection, or a storytelling cookbook for pups and their humans?
To build on that, I think I could also start creating in ways that feel like pure play—like allowing myself to follow inspiration wherever it leads without worrying about whether it’s “productive” or “marketable.” What if I just made art, wrote stories, or experimented with ideas for the sake of joy?
I want to give myself permission to try new things without the pressure of perfection. Maybe I could write that whimsical children’s book inspired by my pups or host a pawrenting workshop where we cook meals for both humans and their pets. Or I could take the spiritual lessons I’ve learned and weave them into a creative retreat that combines meditation, storytelling, and community bonding.
I think I’d also like to challenge myself to connect with others more authentically. Sometimes, I tend to stay in my comfort zone, pouring my thoughts into writing or projects, but not always sharing them widely. What if I reached out more—to collaborate, to learn, to build something meaningful with others? I’d love to create spaces where people (and their pets) feel seen, heard, and celebrated.
And then there’s the idea of trust—trusting my intuition, my process, and the journey itself. I know I have a strong inner compass, but sometimes I second-guess it. What if I leaned fully into that trust, letting it guide me through creative projects, relationships, and even my daily choices?
Lastly, I could do differently by celebrating myself more. I’ve spent so much time reflecting, healing, and growing, but I don’t always stop to recognize how far I’ve come. Maybe it’s time to pause, acknowledge my wins (big and small), and remind myself that I’m doing enough, being enough, and creating enough—just as I am.
In the end, doing things “differently” doesn’t mean changing who I am. It means embracing all of me—the playful, curious, reflective, and endlessly creative parts—and letting them shine even brighter.
What I really need to do differently is not different at all. It’s about doubling down on who I am and daring to share it louder, prouder, and with a little extra sparkle. Maybe the world is ready for more of my flavor—and maybe, just maybe, so am I.
Let Your Pawrenting Journey Begin 