Why Are We Here?

May 21, 2026 No Comments

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originally written 5/21/25 by Michelle Breaux

At first she was lost… poured into life… poured into this container or that…

…out searching for “her missing piece”, the “meaning” of it all… she dug in deep, starting at the age of 18, what is the point or purpose of this life?

Disillusioned my “the realities” that were anything but… the truth? … but what was?

Further she hopped, skipped, and jumped down the road, finding herself on hilltops and mountain peaks, just as much as valley’s below…

…until that last valley…..

…darkness, deep confusion, and despair may have won…

…..in the pitch black….

…thick heaviness descended…

…air thick…and pressing in…

..hard to breathe…

…to cry for help, but the words have no air….

…to have tears pour out….like rain…..

…and to be hated for doing so….

She did indeed walk many paths, and in many ways, she was more than one person within all the experiences in her mind.

“Resume-Ready” She was determined to achieve, open to the act of becoming, desperately wanting to do well, help others, try “everything”, solve “the puzzle” or many puzzles, and leave her notes behind….

Mother Teresa, the concept of altruism… is what she seriously hoped to embody….as she remembers reflecting on this concept in her freshman year…just to love those who needed it and not for what they could give in return. Did that make her the narcissist some may claim?

She was surely not incarnate. She did in fact, have her awkwardness, her inattentive and at times scattered, impulsive ways…emotional highs, lows, and sensitivities…

..but in her heart, she wanted to do good….

….but “the world” did not see her heart…

…a few friends may have…and yet even so pull away…frustrated…by her up and down nature…

..or just “not enough time” or “spoons” to care further…

…obviously…

…her attempts to “become” this person “she hoped for” failed in her mind…and in these deep waters….

…she slowly let go….

…of this one…and that one…. of this hope… or that dream… of almost entirely everything…

….but this one thread….the one delicately stitched…through every hurt, every pain, and delicately held her very soul together….

…she COULD do hard things….

…she WOULD not let go of who SHE WAS, but of every false judgement, sins against her, sin against herself, and she would come back as not a cake to be eaten, but she would actually partake this time, in the actual life she dreamed of….

…a life where she KNEW who she was…

..she understood her purpose…

…she would SAY and KNOW who she was without need for validation…

…no audience necessary….

..however, that does not mean her words might not still be spoken and that “some audience” may not come…

…she my have had “her issues”….

..some of which…burned and tore down bridges and possibly some hearts and spirits…

..leaving behind bitter disgust and distrust…

..as the last bit of fire left her lungs….

…so her act of letting go, honestly left more scars, possibly confusion, and so forth…

…but she will NOT speak ill of herself further just to satisfy the appetites….of other unhealed souls…

….she will come out again, soon….

…she already is beginning to bloom, though her roots gave had to dig deep past many a rocks and boulders…to reach nutrient rich soil..

…life never got easier….but she did do what she had to do to survive… as she continues to do each day…

…as YOU do too….

Never Invisible

May 10, 2026 No Comments

To the motherless.
To the childless.
To the women standing in grocery store flower aisles pretending today does not sting a little.

I see you.

To the ones who mothered everyone else while learning how to survive themselves.
To the women who carry nurturing in their bones but never got the chance,
or lost the chance,
or chose differently and still ache in quiet moments when the world becomes one long commercial for “normal life.”

To the daughters who still reach for a phone that no longer answers.
Who still hear their mother’s voice in recipes, in perfume counters, in certain songs at red lights.
To the women who raised themselves.
Who became soft and loving anyway.

That is its own kind of miracle.

And to the women whose arms stayed empty while their hearts did not—
you are not less woman, less worthy, less whole because life unfolded differently than expected.
Love is not only proven through childbirth.
Some of the most maternal souls I have ever known give life through art, friendship, protection, humor, listening, rescuing, creating, surviving.

Some women become gardens.
Some become shelter.
Some become the voice they once needed.

Today can hold grief and beauty at the same time.
Bitterness and gratitude.
Loneliness and relief.
You do not have to force yourself into celebration to deserve tenderness.

So today, I hope you eat something comforting.
I hope you rest without guilt.
I hope you remember that your existence has nurtured people in ways you may never fully know.

And I hope, somewhere beneath all the complicated ache,
you understand this:

You were never invisible to women like me.

Somewhere Between Self-Care, Creating, Growing, and Properly Managing Chaos

April 24, 2026 No Comments
I’ve been meaning to update my blog and repair glitches.

Not in the dramatic, “I disappeared and now I have a wonderful explanation” kind of way.
More like… I’ve been here. Just living in the in-between.

Somewhere between physical therapy appointments and trying to remember if I drank water today.
Somewhere between learning how to use Procreate on my iPad and properly order DTF transfers.

Somewhere between wanting to create freely and second-guessing everything because what is or isn’t “real” art.

It’s been… a lot of tabs open.
In my browser. In my brain. In my life.

There’s this strange pressure I keep bumping into—the idea that I need to get everything “together” before I show up fully.
Like I should already know the right workflow, the right tools, the right direction. Right?

But the truth?

I’m figuring it out in real time.

I’m learning when to create and when to pause.
When to invest in skill-building and when to just make something messy and imperfect.
When to focus on building something sustainable… and when to just get part the housework done.

Because some days look like this:

A healthcare appointment.
A follow-up call about paperwork I already thought I handled.
A reminder that I still need to schedule something else.
A half-finished design sitting on my iPad.
A load of laundry that’s been in the washer long enough to qualify as a science experiment.
Realizing I haven’t eaten. Or drank water. Or moved my body in a way that counts.

And yes—remembering to pee. Eventually.

There’s always one more thing.

Something I forgot.
Something I meant to do.
Something I’ll have to circle back to later.

And yet, in the middle of all that… there’s still this pull to create so many things with paint, mixed media, digital designs, words written and spoken, reels to design, a book to write, and I wish I could say my thoughts and ideas have stopped there!

And another pull, to just keep showing up to and for myself.

Not perfectly. Not professionally polished.
Just honestly.

To take a step out while still feeling unsure.
To share something before it’s “ready.”
To build something while I’m still healing, still learning, still navigating.

Maybe this is what it actually looks like.

Not a clean, aesthetic timeline of progress.
But a layered, sometimes chaotic process of becoming.

So if you’ve been waiting to feel “ready” before you start—
or restart—
or show up again…

This is your reminder (and mine):

You’re allowed to create imperfectly.

Not once you’ve mastered every tool.
Not when you feel perfectly confident.

Today.

Right here.
As you are.
In progress.

Because maybe the work isn’t just what we produce.

Maybe it’s how we keep showing up anyway.

When You’re Building Something Beautiful in the Middle of Being Tired

March 22, 2026 No Comments

I’ll be honest with you: I almost didn’t write this week. Not because nothing is happening — actually, the opposite. So much is happening that my brain has gone a little quiet on me, like a browser with too many tabs open and not enough RAM.

You know that feeling?

When life is full and you’re grateful, but you’re also just… tired?

That’s where I am right now. I’m in the middle of launching a new creative business called That’s Nice Actually — t-shirts, totes, stickers, things that are meant to make you smile or feel seen. The name says everything about the vision. Not loud. Not trying too hard. Just… that’s nice, actually. Simple things that carry a little joy.  I’m genuinely excited about it, even on the days when excitement and exhaustion look almost identical.

On top of that, I’m still doing a little clothing resale, still trying to keep a house from descending into chaos, still making space for painting and mixed media and the kind of creative play that doesn’t have a product attached to it — the kind that just fills you back up.

And I’m still showing up here, at Daring to Mend, because this space matters to me even when the words come slowly. Especially when the words come slowly.

I think that’s actually what this blog has always been about, underneath everything. Not performing wellness or pretending the creative life is glamorous. But showing up anyway — imperfectly, mid-process, still figuring it out.

Mending isn’t a one-time event. It’s something you do over and over, in small moments, even when you’re tired. So this is me, showing up. A little scattered, a little stretched, but still here.

Still building.

Still daring.

If you’re in a season like this too — where you’re holding more than feels reasonable, where you’re proud of what you’re creating but wish you had more energy to enjoy it — I just want you to know:

You don’t have to be at your best to keep going. You just have to keep going.

And…that’s nice, actually. 😉

When the Brain Starts Building a Case

March 11, 2026 No Comments

Okay, so re-reading my last blog, I feel like I only scratched the surface of a deeper issue.

The case-building structure my own brain seemed geared to build a case against me.

Was it the product of previous unhealthy relationships in my life?

Not just romantic ones — friendships, family dynamics, environments where approval sometimes felt uncertain.

Honestly, when I think about it now, I want to go back in time and give younger me a great big hug.

She was full of so much deep-rooted fear, and such a strong desire to be approved of… to be deeply loved.

It’s not that she didn’t love herself at all.

It’s that she didn’t know how to forgive herself when she failed.

She wanted stability.

She wanted growth.

She wanted harmony.

She genuinely wanted to do good for others as well.

But it’s almost as if she could never quite succeed at being the person she envisioned herself becoming — because she didn’t yet know how.

And letting things go?

That rarely came quietly.

It often came with a storm of emotion.

Self-blame.

Pain.

Long stretches of wondering what she had done wrong.

Looking back now, it almost feels like she was quietly asking every person around her the same question:

Please tell me I’m good enough.

Please tell me there’s something special about me.

Please tell me you see me.

Please tell me there’s something about me worth saving.

Lately I’ve been wondering if those strange memory replays stuck around for a reason.

Not because they prove something terrible about me.

But because they remind me of a version of myself who was still trying to figure out who she was allowed to be.

A version of me that kept looking outward for confirmation she was okay.

And when I think about that younger version of myself now, I don’t feel annoyed with her the way I used to.

Mostly I just want to sit next to her for a minute.

Tell her she doesn’t have to keep gathering evidence about her own worth.

Tell her the whole world isn’t secretly keeping score.

But of course life doesn’t really work like that.

You don’t get to go back and reassure the person you used to be.

But you can sit beside the person you are today.

You can see the potential in who she is becoming.

You can affirm it.

Validate it.

You can remind her that everything is going to be alright.

Because there is evidence now.

Evidence that you are worthy.

Evidence that even when you make mistakes, you keep trying to do your best.

Evidence that even when life didn’t turn out the way you once imagined, you still look for the silver lining.

You still search for the remaining rays of hope.

Maybe that’s enough.

Just maybe.

Because there was a time when I don’t think I could have said or done that.

I was my own worst enemy.

And when you think about it, that’s a strange badge of honor to carry — being the person who fought yourself harder than anyone else ever did.

So I’m curious.

If you could sit beside the younger version of yourself for a few minutes…

What would you say?

Stupid Little Moments on Repeat

March 10, 2026 No Comments

There are certain memories that make sense.

The big ones.

The life-changing ones.

But then there are the other ones.

The stupid little moments your brain apparently decided were worth storing forever.

Not traumas.

Not major heartbreaks.

Just… odd little fragments.

A weird comment someone made in 1998.

A look someone gave you in a grocery store line.

The moment someone didn’t laugh at a joke you were proud of.

That one time someone ghosted you and you still occasionally wonder what the heck happened.

Nothing earth-shattering.

And yet somehow your brain will randomly replay these moments 10, 20, even 30 years later like it’s flipping through an old VHS tape nobody asked to watch again.

You’ll be doing something completely normal — washing dishes, driving somewhere, watering plants — and suddenly:

Oh yes. Let’s revisit that awkward conversation from 2004.

Thanks, brain.

Sometimes the memories are mildly embarrassing.

Sometimes they’re confusing.

Sometimes they’re just… unfinished.

And maybe that’s the real reason they stick.

There was no clear ending.

No explanation.

No satisfying little bow.

Just a weird moment suspended in time.

I suspect most of us carry a small mental collection of these.

Tiny emotional splinters that didn’t hurt enough to be called trauma, but apparently bothered us just enough to get filed away in permanent storage.

The funny thing is, when you look back at them years later, you often realize something else.

The moment that stuck with you probably meant very little to the other person.

It was just Tuesday for them.

But for some reason, your brain went:

Ah yes, let’s archive this one forever.

Which is both irritating… and strangely human.

Because life isn’t made only of the big dramatic events.

Sometimes it’s also made of these strange little emotional echoes that pop up out of nowhere while you’re trying to mind your own business.

And maybe the best thing to do when they show up is just shrug a little and say:

“Well… that was weird.”

Then, grab the next dish and move on.

But, maybe, these strange little memory replays are just part of being human.

Our minds keeping odd little souvenirs from moments that didn’t quite resolve.

What’s one of yours?

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Why Are We Here?

 · originally written 5/21/25 by Michelle Breaux At first she was lost… poured into life… poured into this container or

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