Emerald Circle and New Beginnings My Journey to Healing Impact and 2027
Some seasons of life do not ask politely for your attention. They take over the room, the calendar, the heart, and almost every quiet thought.
For 29 months, I fought for John after his wrongful conviction. That fight changed me. It stretched me in ways I never expected. It taught me how much pain a person can carry while still getting up, making calls, filling out papers, answering messages, and trying to hold a life together.
It also opened my eyes.
During that time, I began to notice something I could not ignore. Every woman I knew was carrying something. Some carried grief. Some carried stress at home. Some carried disappointment, loneliness, fear, guilt, anger, or exhaustion. Many smiled through it. Many kept going because people depended on them. Many had no real place to lay it all down, even for a little while.
That realization became the seed for Emerald Circle.
Why Emerald Circle came to life
Emerald Circle is a women’s group that meets once a month for conversation, crafts, and time to focus on ourselves as women.
That may sound simple, but simple can be powerful.
The idea came from a very heavy place. After spending 29 months fighting for John, I knew what it felt like to be consumed by a battle that most people could not fully understand. Wrongful conviction is not just a legal phrase when someone you love is living it. It becomes part of your daily life. It sits with you at the grocery store. It follows you into family moments. It changes the way you sleep, pray, plan, and hope.
I found myself trying to be strong, but strength can get lonely. People often see the fight, but they do not always see the person behind it. They do not see the moments when you close the door and finally cry. They do not see the weight of having to explain the same pain over and over again. They do not see how often you push your own needs aside because the crisis in front of you feels bigger.
That is where Emerald Circle grew from.
I wanted to create a space where women could come as they are. Not polished. Not perfect. Not pretending. A place where we could talk, laugh, make something with our hands, and remember that we are still people outside of the struggles we face.
The crafts are part of it, but they are not the whole point. The deeper purpose is connection. When hands are busy, hearts often open. A simple project can make it easier to talk. It gives the room a calm rhythm. It takes pressure off the conversation while still inviting honesty.
Some months may feel light. Other months may carry heavier stories. Both are welcome.
Emerald Circle is not about having all the answers. It is about having a place to exhale.
What women need when life gets heavy
One thing I have learned is that women often become the keepers of everyone else’s needs.
We check on people. We remember birthdays. We hold families together. We encourage others. We organize, comfort, pray, solve, and listen. Many women do this while quietly dealing with their own pain.
That kind of constant giving can wear a person down.
Emerald Circle gives us a pause. For a short time each month, the focus shifts back to us. We get to sit in a room where no one has to perform. No one has to have a perfect update. No one has to be the strong one every minute.
There is healing in being able to say:
I am tired.
I am still grieving.
I do not know what comes next.
I need a break.
I am proud of myself for surviving this week.
There is also healing in joy. Sometimes we need to talk about hard things. Sometimes we need to laugh until our shoulders drop. Sometimes we need to make something pretty with our hands just to remind ourselves that beauty can still exist in a painful season.
That is one of the reasons I named it Emerald Circle.
The image of a circle matters to me. A circle has no head of the table. It makes room. It holds people together. It reminds me that healing is not always a straight line. Sometimes it comes in small monthly gatherings, one honest conversation at a time.
The book is still being written
Another project that remains close to my heart is my book.
I am still working on it, and I hope to finish it in the near future. I wish I could say it has moved as quickly as I first imagined, but the truth is that it has taken longer than planned.
Part of that is because the story is emotional. Writing about real pain is not the same as writing about an idea. Some chapters ask more from me than others. Some memories take time to sit with. Some pages require me to step away and breathe before I can come back to them.
Another part is that I kept starting new projects.
That is honest. I have had ideas, hopes, and a strong desire to help people, and sometimes I have tried to carry too much at once. Between Emerald Circle, the book, the vision for a nonprofit, and the ongoing emotional weight of John’s conviction, I have had moments where I wore myself thin.
I know many people understand that feeling. You want to do good. You want to build something meaningful. You want to turn pain into purpose. Then one day you look up and realize you have said yes to so much that your own energy is running low.
I am learning that purpose still needs pacing.
The book matters to me because it gives me a place to tell the story with more depth. It is a way to document what this journey has been like, not just the facts, but the human side. The fear. The faith. The questions. The frustration. The love. The waiting. The strength that had to be built day by day.
I do not want to rush it just to say it is done. I want it to be honest. I want it to reflect the truth of the experience. I want it to reach people who feel alone in their own fight, whether their struggle looks like mine or not.
If Emerald Circle is about gathering in person and making space for women to breathe, the book is about opening a door into a story that still matters deeply. Both are part of the same healing path for me.
They are different projects, but they come from the same place: wanting pain to mean something beyond pain.
Learning to balance vision with rest
One lesson I am still learning is that being passionate does not mean I have to exhaust myself.
That is not always easy for me. When an idea feels meaningful, I want to move on it. When I see a need, I want to respond. When I think about all the women without an outlet, all the families affected by injustice, and all the people who feel forgotten, I want to build every answer at once.
But I am human.
There are days when my heart is ahead of my capacity. There are days when I have to remind myself that doing something well may require doing it slowly. There are days when rest feels like a delay, but I am beginning to see it as part of the work.
Healing work cannot come from a completely empty cup. Advocacy cannot survive on burnout alone. A book needs a clear mind. A women’s group needs a present heart. A nonprofit needs a strong foundation.
That means I have to be honest about what I can carry in each season.
I am still learning how to pace myself without feeling like I am failing. I am still learning how to ask for help. I am still learning that stepping back for a moment does not mean giving up. Sometimes it means making sure I can keep going.
That lesson is one I hope to carry into everything I am building.
A small sneak peek at the nonprofit taking shape
There is another dream I have been carrying, and I want to share a small sneak peek.
I would like to start a nonprofit.
The heart behind it is still connected to everything I have walked through. I know what it feels like to face a painful situation and need support. I know what it feels like to search for direction, encouragement, and people who care. I know how isolating it can be when a crisis becomes part of your everyday life.
Right now, I am in the process of creating the board. That step matters because a nonprofit should never be built on one person’s emotions alone. It needs people with wisdom, commitment, and a shared heart for the mission. It needs structure. It needs accountability. It needs people who can help guide the work with care.
I am still shaping what this nonprofit will become, so I am not ready to share every detail yet. But I can say this: I want it to be rooted in support, hope, and positive impact.
I want it to serve people in a way that feels personal and real. I want it to reflect lessons I have learned through hardship. I want it to become something that can outgrow my own story and help others carry theirs.
Starting something like this takes time. There are decisions to make, people to invite, paperwork to understand, and a mission to define clearly. I do not want to rush the foundation. I want to build it with care because the people it may one day serve deserve that.
This is also where I have to remember balance. A nonprofit is a beautiful goal, but it is also a serious responsibility. It needs prayer, planning, patience, and the right people around the table.
I am excited. I am also realistic. Both can be true.
Holding grief and hope at the same time
One of the hardest parts of this journey is learning how to hold grief and hope together.
John’s conviction brought heartache that cannot be neatly wrapped up and put away. It changed my life. It affected my family. It shaped my days in ways I never would have chosen.
At the same time, I do not want that pain to be the only thing that grows from this season.
That is where the hope comes in.
Emerald Circle is hope in motion. The book is hope on paper. The nonprofit is hope being planned. Each one gives me a way to take what has hurt and turn it toward something that may help somebody else.
That does not erase the pain. It does not make the wrongful conviction easier. It does not mean every day feels strong or inspiring. Some days still feel heavy.
But I have learned that purpose can live beside heartache. Joy can visit a wounded heart. A person can still build while healing. A person can still encourage others while carrying their own unanswered prayers.
That truth has become very important to me.
Looking toward 2027 with hope
When I think about 2027, I want to believe it will look bright.
I know life does not always unfold on the timeline we want. I have learned that in a very real way. Plans change. Grief interrupts. Justice can take longer than anyone should have to bear. Healing moves at its own pace.
Still, I am choosing to look ahead with hope.
By 2027, I hope Emerald Circle has grown into a steady and meaningful space for women who need connection. I hope the monthly gatherings continue to remind women that they matter, not just for what they do for others, but for who they are.
I hope my book is finished and in the hands of people who need it. I hope it gives language to someone else’s pain. I hope it helps people feel less alone. I hope it honors the truth of what this journey has been.
I hope the nonprofit has a strong board, a clear mission, and the ability to serve with compassion. I hope it becomes a source of good that reaches beyond me.
Most of all, I hope I can be a positive influence to others, despite the heartache from John’s conviction.
That is the part I keep coming back to. I cannot control every outcome. I cannot undo every painful moment. I cannot make the road shorter by wishing it so.
But I can choose what I build from here.
I can gather women in a circle.
I can keep writing.
I can invite the right people into a bigger mission.
I can rest when I need to.
I can keep believing that the future still has room for light.
This season has taught me that healing is not always loud. Sometimes it looks like a monthly craft night. Sometimes it looks like a half-finished chapter waiting for the right words. Sometimes it looks like a board slowly coming together around a vision. Sometimes it looks like getting up again after another hard day and deciding that pain will not have the final say.
Emerald Circle and these new beginnings are part of my journey forward. They are not perfect. They are still growing. So am I.
And as I keep moving toward 2027, I am carrying both truth and hope with me. The truth is that this has been painful. The hope is that something meaningful can still rise from it.
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