Hello, My Name is...

When I began this blog, I felt I needed to reinvent myself- hence the name Becoming Elle Jae.

Life has a way of stripping things down as you age. Roles shift. Expectations change. What once defined you no longer fits the same way. I'm no longer interested in pretending I'm the same woman I was in my 30s or even five years ago.

Instead of reinventing myself, I'm reintroducing myself- with more honesty and less urgency than I used to carry. This isn't a reset. It's a decision about how I'm going to show up in life and for myself. At 55, I manage my energy, not just my schedule.

After multiple cancer diagnoses within our home this past year, I'm more intentional about my health- not in an extreme or punishing way, but in a sustainable one. I care about strength, mobility, and feeling capable in my body. I care about what goes into my body as well as onto it. I'm done chasing quick fixes and before-and-after promises that don't honor real life.

I'm also back in grad school, which has stretched me in ways I didn't expect. It's reminded me that learning isn't about proving anything- it's about staying engaged with your surroundings. I don't need to be the youngest or the fastest. I just need to keep showing up.

At the same time, I've stepped into a new role at work- one that's demanding, fast-paced, and carries real responsibility. The days are full. The expectations are high. Some weeks feel like constant motion without any downtime.

This season has forced me to confront something I've always struggled with: boundaries.

I don't set them easily. I tend to overextend, take responsibility for too much, and push through when I should pause. But recently, I've had to set and hold boundaries at work- not because it felt comfortable, but because it was necessary. Learning to say no, to clarify expectations, and to protect my time has been uncomfortable. It's also been essential.

My family life has grown more layered with time. I'm the mom of an adult son, four adult bonus kids, and a grandma. I also carry the reality of being estranged from my adult daughter and her son- a relationship I love deeply but no longer have access to.

All of that exists at the same time.

Our home is quieter now. Being an empty nester has forced me to sit with myself more than I ever had to before. There's less noise, fewer distractions, and nowhere to hide from the questions that surface when life slows down.

That quiet has changed me.

For a long time, I relied on motivation. When I felt inspired, I did well. When I didn't, I disappeared from my own life. That ends here.

My word for 2026 is Consistency, and I'm choosing it because it asks for less drama and more discipline. Less intensity, more intention- especially in a season where my calendar is already full.

In 2026, I am committing to:

• Taking care of my health in ways I can sustain on hard weeks
• Moving my body regularly, not aggressively
• Writing even when it feels uncomfortable or ordinary
• Choosing follow-through over fresh starts
• Creating steadiness in the middle of a busy, demanding life
• Holding boundaries in life even when it feels uncomfortable

Consistency, for me now, includes learning when to stop—not just when to push.

Starting in 2026, I’m committing to a simple daily practice. Each morning, before messages or work demands take over, I will sit with my coffee and write a few honest lines—nothing polished, nothing for anyone else to read. Some days it may be gratitude. Other days it may be frustration or uncertainty. At night, I plan to return to that same notebook and write one sentence about what I showed up for that day. Not what I accomplished- what I stayed with.

I’m also choosing a weekly reset as a form of self-respect. Once a week—likely on Sunday—I will pause, look at the week ahead, and make intentional decisions about where my energy needs to go.

This includes acknowledging work deadlines and responsibilities—while also deciding what won’t get my time. I won’t over-plan. I won’t chase productivity. I’ll simply ask:

What does showing up look like this week?

This ritual is something I’m building slowly, knowing consistency grows from repetition, not perfection.

Some roles don’t disappear; they evolve.

I am still a wife, a mom, and a grandma

I am also a woman learning how to live with unanswered questions.

In 2026, I’m choosing to love without losing myself, to honor the relationships I have, and to carry the ones I don’t with tenderness rather than shame and regret.

I’m done chasing transformation.

I’m learning to value strength without trying to take up less space. To move steadily instead of loudly. To practice discipline without turning it inward as criticism. To stay present—even when life remains unfinished.

Showing up consistently has become its own kind of trust, and that trust matters more to me now than reinvention ever did.

This year isn’t about fixing my life or proving anything.

It’s about staying.

Staying with my body.

Staying with my work—without letting it consume me.

Staying with love, even when it’s complicated.

Staying with the truth, even when it’s unfinished.

At 55, that feels like growth.

And in 2026, I’m choosing to show up—consistently.