Focus & Balance

There’s a strange stillness that follows deep loss, a quiet that lingers even when life refuses to pause.

This summer, that quiet met me at the threshold of my grandmother’s house, the same house that now holds my next chapter. I’m moving in, into her memories, her legacy, and, somehow, into more responsibility than I ever imagined I could hold at once.

On paper, it sounds manageable:

• Finalizing my transfer for my B.A.

• Homeschooling Brooklyn and setting up her schoolroom.

• Launching an office for Breaking Barrs from the same space.

• Supporting a team that is building something beautiful from pain.

• Holding space in a relationship that feels more draining than fulfilling.

In real life, it’s been anything but neat. It’s been chaos in spurts—paint cans and lesson plans, old grief and new boundaries, vision boards and whispered prayers in the dark.

And somewhere in the middle of all this... there’s me. Still trying to find my breath.

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The Art of Juggling Without Dropping Myself

Everyone talks about balance like it’s a destination—as if once you find it, you get to stay there. But balance, I’ve learned, is more like a dance. Some days I lead. Other days, I just try not to fall.

It’s hard to prioritize your own healing when you’re the one others lean on. It’s hard to stay focused when your heart is divided between purpose and pain.

It’s okay to pause.  It means I’m aware of my limits, and that’s wisdom, not weakness.

It’s okay to say no. Especially when saying yes would mean sacrificing myself.

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Every corner of this house carries echoes of my grandma’s love. And now, each wall is being repainted with new meaning. Brooklyn’s laughter rings down the hallways. My desk is covered in books, grants, and faith-fueled goals. The house is becoming more than just shelter—it’s becoming a sanctuary. A reflection of where we’ve been and where we’re going.

But just like Breaking Barrs, it’s a work in progress.

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If you’re also in the middle of too much—grief, transition, schooling, caregiving,—know this:

You don’t have to get it all right. You don’t have to carry it all alone. And most importantly, you don’t have to disappear inside your purpose.

Let’s remember to come home to ourselves. Let’s remember that we can build and breathe. Let’s remember that balance is messy and beautiful and worth fighting for.

Together, we rise. Together, we heal.Together, we break the Barrs—including the ones we built.