Sharon Otness

10/02/2026

I can be physically present and still be three steps ahead in my mind.

Thinking about what needs to happen next.
Remembering something I forgot.
Mentally answering an email.
Replaying something from yesterday.

And yes, my ADHD brain is particularly good at this. 😊

But I’m learning that being present doesn’t mean my mind never wanders.

It means I notice when it does—and gently come back.

No judgment.
No I should be better at this.
No expectation that I stay perfectly present.

Just a simple reminder:

Be where you are.

Because if I’ve chosen to make room for something that matters to me, I want to be there to actually experience it.

Maybe that’s the practice:

I wandered. I noticed. I came back. 🌿

09/25/2026

24 years sober. 🤍

I celebrated this milestone last week, and I’ve been thinking about what 24 years of recovery really means to me.

It doesn’t mean that life became easy.

There has been loss. Grief. Fear. Starting over. Learning things about myself I wish I had understood much earlier.

But sobriety gave me something I couldn’t have imagined when I first began: the chance to become strong enough to make different choices.

It gave me the clarity and courage to leave an abusive marriage and, little by little, build a new life.

It allowed me to be present for the people I love.

It taught me that I can move through hard things without needing to escape from them.

And maybe that is what I celebrate most today.

Recovery hasn’t given me a perfect life. It has given me my life—one I get to keep learning from, creating, changing, and showing up for.

24 years later, I still choose it.

One day at a time. One season at a time. One brave choice at a time.

And I am deeply grateful for the woman who made that first choice 24 years ago. 💜

09/20/2026

Some weeks, life simply asks more of us.

More of our time.
More of our energy.
More of our attention.

And sometimes that’s because we’ve chosen to give more to something that deeply matters to us.

I’m in one of those seasons right now.

I’m learning that when I give more of myself in one place, I may need to ask a little less of myself somewhere else.

That isn’t giving up.
It isn’t falling behind.
It’s recognizing that our capacity isn’t unlimited—and choosing where our energy needs to go right now.

Maybe you need that reminder too.

You don’t have to do everything at once.

Take care of what matters.
Let something else wait.
You can come back to it. 💜

What are you giving your energy to right now?

09/10/2026

I know what matters to me.

I imagine you probably do, too.

But knowing what matters and actually creating room for it in our lives can be two very different things.

And this is something I’m working on myself.

Because making room isn’t necessarily about finding another empty hour in the day.

It might be about noticing what’s already taking up our time, attention, and energy.

What have we chosen?

What have we simply fallen into?

And what are we giving space to that may not deserve quite so much of it anymore?

I’m not interested in turning this into another list of things we should be doing differently.

I’m simply getting curious.

Does the way I’m living leave room for the things I say are important to me?

That’s the question I’m carrying with me this week.

Maybe you’d like to carry it with you, too. 🌿

09/03/2026

Rest absolutely matters.

Sometimes what our body and mind need most is sleep, stillness, quiet, or simply permission to stop.

But I’m becoming more curious about restoration.

What leaves me feeling a little more like myself afterward?

It might be doing less.

But it might also be stepping outside, tending the garden, making something with my hands, moving my body, having a good conversation, or doing something that brings me joy.

Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean conserving every bit of energy.

Sometimes it’s choosing where we place our energy—and noticing what gives something back.

So maybe there’s room for both questions:

Do I need rest?

and

What would actually restore me right now?

No right answer. Just an invitation to notice. 🌿

08/27/2026

One thing I’m continuing to learn about my ADHD:

Sometimes adding more structure doesn’t make something easier for me.

Sometimes it makes it harder to begin.

The routine becomes a rule.
The practice becomes an expectation.
And something that was supposed to support me becomes another thing I feel like I should be doing.

That’s what I’ve discovered with my yoga mat.

What started as a way to take the pressure off has become more of a touchstone—a reminder that this is my time to stop, check in, and choose what feels good.

Sometimes that’s yoga.
Sometimes stretching.
Sometimes meditation.
Sometimes lying on the floor doing absolutely nothing.

And sometimes the mat never even comes out.

08/03/2026

Lately I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to drift away from ourselves.
Not because we don’t care.
But because life asks so much of us.
We get busy.
We take care of everyone else.
We keep pushing through.
And one day we realize we’ve stopped noticing the little things that help us feel like...us.
I’ve learned that coming back doesn’t have to be dramatic. It can begin with one deep breath, a quiet walk, a cup of tea, or simply asking, “What do I need right now?”
I’d love to hear from you.
How do you know when you’ve drifted away from yourself? 🌿

06/11/2026

Today’s mindful pause came from watching a bee move slowly through the chamomile in my garden.

For a few moments, everything felt quieter.

Not because life suddenly became stress-free…
but because I stopped rushing long enough to notice something gentle.

I think many of us move through our days bracing.
Moving quickly from one responsibility, notification, worry, or task to the next.

But sometimes the nervous system needs tiny moments of softness woven throughout the day.

A slower breath.
A pause in the garden.
Watching sunlight move through leaves.
Listening to birds for one minute before opening the next email.

These small mindful pauses may seem insignificant, but over time they help us feel more grounded, connected, and calm.

This is your reminder that you do not have to earn rest, beauty, or a moment to breathe.

Tiny moments matter.

05/29/2026

05/24/2026

This is why I seldom leave Seattle in the summer. I’ve created my own haven. For the times we live in it’s my salvation.