Value, Worth, & the Path Back to Me

A reflection on value, worth, and the path back to self

Hi, beautiful souls.

I’m Amber, and I’m really grateful you’re here.

This story didn’t begin the way I thought it would. I had something completely different planned, but life, as it often does, gently nudged me in another direction. A few conversations, a few quiet moments, and suddenly I found myself standing in the shower thinking about value, worth, and just how far I’ve come.

And in that moment, I realized it was time to begin with my story.

Not the whole thing, because that would take dozens of chapters, but the part that shaped me most. The part that sent me down the healing path I’ve been walking for years, and the part that ultimately birthed Way2Vyb.

So take a breath with me.

Settle in.

And let’s begin.

A Slow Arrival

Before anything else, I want to create space for you to land here with me.

Wherever you are, this is your invitation to arrive. To slow down. To listen inward. To remember what matters.

Welcome to Find Your Way2Vyb.

This space exists to explore the why behind the journey. The choices, the unraveling, the rebuilding. The moments that brought me to where I am now, and the lessons I carry forward.

Stop Stopping

Lately, my attention has been focused on bringing something long-held into form. Organizing, refining, and preparing to finally honor a vision that’s been quietly forming for years.

Once I realized this wasn’t just an idea anymore, that it was actually happening, I knew I needed to honor it fully. Not cautiously. Not halfway. With my whole self.

As part of that process, I went back through old journals from the early Way2Vyb era of my life. And honestly, it stirred up a lot.

Old wounds. Old moments I thought I’d outgrown. I could feel my nervous system react. I could feel myself drifting upstream into familiar emotional currents.

But this time was different.

Instead of shutting down, I slowed down. I gave myself grace to feel what was coming up and asked myself why those pages still held power.

And what I realized was this:

The past wasn’t pulling me backward.

It was showing me how far I’d come.

There was sadness for the version of me who carried so much heaviness for so long, but there was also clarity and gratitude. That journey, as hard as it was, made this moment possible.

And when a small voice whispered, Maybe you should stop, I answered back.

No more stopping.

I’m done stopping.

This story is mine. All of it. The messy parts, the growth, the in-between moments, the joy, the grief, the lessons. I’m no longer letting the echoes of the past control the narrative.

This is the beginning of a new era.

The Practice That Shifted Everything

In 2021, I was going through an especially emotional year. I found myself caught in negative thought loops that started spilling into my home life. I was bringing everything with me, work stress, traffic, overwhelm, emotional heaviness, straight through the front door.

And I didn’t want that to be the energy my kids felt when I came home.

So I created a small ritual.

Before walking inside, I would sit in my garage in a little chair. Candle lit. Journal open. Pen in hand. I would breathe for a few minutes, then write what I was grateful for.

Just ten minutes.

Slowly, something began to change.

Gratitude became a momentum shift. Not instantly. It took time. But over the three months I practiced it daily, I noticed something important. When the spiral came, I could interrupt it. I could reach for something real. Something grounding.

Even on the hardest days, when my nerves felt raw, I surprised myself with what I could still find.

Eventually, I ran out of the “big” things people usually list, and I started going smaller.

• I’m grateful for my garage, because it gave me ten minutes of peace

• I’m grateful for chapstick

• I’m grateful for this pen

• I’m grateful for nail clippers

• I’m grateful for birds in the morning, reminding me life is still here

That’s the beauty of it. Almost anything can become a doorway back into presence.

Where It Began

This is what I wrote when I first started intentional gratitude, on July 30, 2021:

“Today I share gratitude for all I have in my life that leads me back to me. I’m grateful for my children, my family, my friends, and all of my guardian angels that have gone before me. I’m grateful for the knowing within guiding me along my uniquely beautiful journey.”

It didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be true.

Value, Worth, and Remembering

As I revisited my journals, one theme kept rising to the surface.

Value.

Worth.

How far I’ve come.

What surprised me most was that this reflection didn’t pull me backward in a painful way. It pulled me backward in a remembering way.

So here is the short version of my story, beginning after graduation in 2001, the year everything shifted, and the year my healing journey truly began.

The Early Years

I got married at 18. I became a mom at 19. Early adulthood came fast and chaotic.

My husband received a DUI, then another one eleven months later, just a month after our second baby was born. I was caring for a preschooler, a newborn, and a grown man who needed constant help. I worked two jobs, drove him everywhere, tried to hold everything together, and barely remember caring for myself at all.

We eventually bought my childhood home, something that should have felt like a milestone. Two days later, he began an affair.

I found out months later during a power outage while trying to keep a saltwater fish tank alive. I asked to borrow his phone and noticed how long it took him to hand it over.

That hesitation changed everything.

In 2008, he asked for a divorce. Before we even told our kids, he was already introducing them to his new girlfriend, taking family photos, calling her their stepmom.

The fury was intense. Somehow, through support and grace, I made it through.

Building a New Foundation

By July 3rd, I was in court fighting for permission to move my kids to California, not to take them from their dad, but to create stability and safety and a real chance to rebuild.

The judge asked me why California. I told her the truth: my parents had room for us, and they would support me while I went to school to build a foundation for my children and myself.

She asked, “If I invite you back here in five years, what would you tell me?”

And without hesitation, I said: “I will have my bachelor’s degree, and I will be able to support my kids and give them the best life possible.” She granted it.

And when I tell you the tension left my body… it left.

“When you believe in something bigger for yourself, every step — even the painful ones — becomes part of your rising.”

In California, everything shifted.

I lost weight.

My mindset changed.

I enrolled in school.

n 2013, I graduated summa cum laude with a degree in business marketing, something I’m still deeply proud of.

During that time I pushed myself to grow.

I took hiking, weightlifting, ballroom dance, because social anxiety was real, and I wanted to challenge it. I met people who brought joy back into my life, who made me laugh, who reminded me that light still existed. I found mud runs… which turned into years of endurance racing… which eventually led to a death race. That chapter deserves its own Blog/Episode.

Another Lesson in Letting Go

Then came my ex-fiancé. Charismatic. Fast-talking. Always the center of attention. I didn’t recognize narcissistic patterns then. I didn’t know what gaslighting was. I just kept doubting myself.

When we moved in together, things darkened. Alcoholism. Chaos. Panic attacks. Weekend-long binges. I thought I was losing my mind.

After an intervention orchestrated by his friends, one of them told me, “This isn’t about you. This doesn’t impact you.”

No one saw what I lived through.

I was still the one driving him to rehab at 2 a.m., going to work the next day, caring for my kids, and holding everything together.

Eventually, something broke open.

When he told me we could talk about my needs once he got better, I knew I was done.

I left with almost nothing. And we rebuilt. Again.

Eight Years of Healing

A couple rented us a quiet mountain home. A year later, another opportunity appeared across the street. We moved our furniture by hand and stayed there eight years.

Eight years of healing. Of rebuilding. Of learning to trust that things work out for us.

Hiking became my therapy. Early mornings. Owls going to bed. Birds waking up. Even bears passing through like they owned the place.

It was one of the most beautiful chapters of my life.

When it ended, I struggled to adjust. Eventually, I found myself again.

And that brings me here.

Setting Down Anger

I carried anger for a long time. Toward others. Toward myself.

Eventually, I learned how to set it down.

I found gratitude for my ex-husband, and for my ex-fiancé, not because of what they did, but because of what they taught me.

My grandma used to say, “Anger doesn’t hurt anybody but you.”

She was right.

Walking helped me release it. Fast at first, then slower, until my body regulated and my breath returned.

If your nerves feel loud, I invite you to walk. Even around the block.

Brooklyn Lights the Way

Before we close, I introduced a segment that means so much to me:

Brooklyn Lights the Way.

This segment honors a beautiful soul named Brooklyn, the daughter of my best friend, Bridget. Brooklyn’s time here was far too short, but her light was undeniable.

In her honor, each episode I want to highlight someone who has been a beacon of light, someone who shows up with love, someone who helps others through darkness, someone who makes a positive difference.

And because this is the beginning of this space, it only felt right to start with Bridget — Brooklyn’s mom, as the first honoree.

Bridget and I have been friends since fourth grade. We married our troll dolls at recess, she had the bride troll, I had the farmer troll, and we’ve been connected ever since. She’s the kind of person who shows up with a bright smile, a helping hand, and the right words exactly when you need them. She is devotion and resilience in human form. Even in the darkest moment of her life, she found a way to rise and keep being light for others.

Bridget, I love you.

Thank you for lighting the way for me, and for so many.

And to everyone reading: don’t forget to thank the people who have lit the way for you. Those steady lights matter more than we realize. If you’d like to submit someone for this segment, you can do that at findyourway2vyb.com on the contact page.

A Gentle Closing

This isn’t about tearing anyone down. This is my life. This is what I lived. And it took time to be ready to share it.

If any part of this resonated, I hope it reminds you that healing isn’t linear, but it is possible.

Slow down.

Trust the unfolding.

And remember, things don’t happen to you. They happen for you.

I’m so grateful you’re here, and I’m honored to walk this path alongside you.

Just breathe, and find your Way2Vyb.

A reflection on value, worth, and the path back to self

🌿 Continue the Journey

Share your Way2Vyb or your gratitude list: Head over to the contact page.

Try this mini-practice today: Before you walk into your house (or your next moment), pause and name one thing you’re grateful for.

Just one.

That’s enough to begin.

With Love and Gratitude,

Amber

“Your growth will pull you back to places you once abandoned, not to repeat the past, but to rise from it.”