I know… what am I actually publishing right now?

It’s true.

Being me means being a little too real and honest, and that’s the point.

At least for me, that’s the point in broadcasting my experiences… to share them and hope they’re found.

Because there was a morning when I wanted to die.

Not in some dramatic, romanticized way.

I was actively thinking about jumping out of a two-story townhome.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, completely blank-spaced. Totally zoned out.

It was a Wednesday morning in Colorado Springs.

Perfect weather. I mean, it felt so incredible I had all my windows open.

There was a big window in the master bedroom that brought in the most light because it was facing West, exactly facing Pikes Peak, although there were homes behind, so I didn’t exactly have the view of the mountain, only if I was directly at the window facing NW to see a glimpse.

And I started staring at that window.

And started imagining… jumping out.

Out of nowhere.

I was actively aware of the horrendous thoughts arising from… nowhere.

I could see, imaginatively, my soul crawling out of my body and just jumping out of the window.

Like… a see-through version of myself just unable to ‘hold on’.

I want you guys to know… it just f&$*(&#g hurt.

I want to say the closest thing people could possibly relate to is… heartbreak.

But imagine feeling brokenhearted… with no context whatsoever.

The thoughts were real.

And with these thoughts came observing my son at the same time, who was cooing, joyfully I might add, while crawling around the floor. Oblivious to it all. As an almost one-year-old should, right?…

I was thinking to myself, why?

Why is this happening to me?

Why am I so sad?

It hurts? God… it hurts!!!!!!!

It burns, in a way.

Literally aches…

Why???

I wanted to jump out of my two-story townhome, knowing my kind neighbor, Bri, would surely be the one to find me. Like that’s how far I went into thinking of the consequences that would have followed these thoughts.

I was standing in front of the window when Austin started to cry because he was hungry.

It was breakfast time and I wasn’t doing anything…

Anything at all… but thinking of death.

Then my phone rang.

It was my aunt.

She says hi and asks how my day is going.

She asks how I was doing and I begin to sob.

I’m sobbing, telling her, “sabes que tia… I’m having a really bad day.”

And she begins to cry.

And I mean cry.

I’m over here thinking, ‘oh damn? I’m not the only one having a rough time..’

Then says, “I’m so sorry to hear that Amber… and I’m so sorry to not make this day any better… Your dad died. He’s dead.”

When she said my father died…

I took the deepest breath and exhaled.

A breath of… relief.

All that passed symbolically through my breath was relief.

I was relieved to know… what I was experiencing before the phone call wasn’t me. It wasn’t something Amber Lindsay Martinez would think or even fucking do?!??!

At all.

Like ever.

What I was feeling…

the emptiness,

loneliness,

dark sadness…

was something I needed to feel… to know.

A piece of my soul… was gone.

It’s as if my soul wanted to be joined with the essence it was created from and by.

Of course “I wanted to die”.

Of course!!!!

Because a part of me did.

50% of what made me is now gone.

Forever.

My dad was my best friend.

He was my best friend because he knew everything.

He knew everything about anything that pertained to my life.

I didn’t hide anything from him.

I didn’t have to.

He was the “cool” parent while my mom was the strict-Virgo queen she was (and continues to be… but we love her for it).

My dad didn’t give a fuck about anything.

He didn’t care if people didn’t like him or not.

He made sure he, as well as others, were having a good time, and made sure it was.

He was an unhealed man who was hurt by the world, that the only way for him to be ok with his own demons and trauma was to act free.

Free of shame.

Free of expectation and obligation.

Free of accountability.

Free.

This isn’t to idolize him but to acknowledge that his life was his own to make, and he sure knew that part. He knew it was his life to live.

He had an inventor’s mind.

A king’s appetite.

And a child’s wander.

He never grew TF up… Honestly lol.

I say that light-heartedly because it’s true.

His child-like excitement for life and adrenaline in general made you think to yourself, “what a crazy son of a gun” LOL.

My father raised me to be selfish and to live my life, unapologetically.

Because he lived his life.

He made his money.

He enjoyed said money.

And he left the world without any.

I love that for him.

I had 17 good years with my dad.

I had him my whole life up until adulthood.

Those 17 years are everything and more.

I am grateful to my mother for sticking with him until I was of age to understand more of what really forms and sustains a marriage and what doesn’t and shouldn’t.

I miss ugly laughing with him.

I miss having someone on my side, no matter who, what, when, where, or why.

I miss my daddy’s beautiful eyes.

I miss eating out at restaurants with him.

I miss hearing “eh who fucking cares!” or “idgaf”.

I miss him. I do.

It hurts.

It hurts me to my core knowing that for the rest of my life… I won’t have my best friend there.

But I know I have him spiritually.

And this is where my mourning gets different.

I haven’t made my beliefs known to many… and I don’t think anyone cares, so I’ve never explicitly gone out of my way to say.

I will share that I can’t succumb to acknowledging two very distinct dimensions.

The ones we call Heaven and Hell.

I can’t accept that.

That’s… too little imagination for me.

There has to be more (for me). Because one or the other is not enough for me.

I have chosen to write about my father at his 5 year death-versary mark because I was healed and relieved of so much guilt and regret that same week’s Friday that… I haven’t been in a depressive mood because… there’s no need to.

‘What the fuck happened that Friday?’ one may ask.

I talked to a Medium.

Ooooooooooo.

Aaaaaaaaah.

Spoooooky.

Yes…

A medium.

(OMG I loved the shows Medium and Ghost Whisperer growing up because my parents loved them.)

I said to myself, If I hear what I want to hear… I’ll literally be over it.

But if somehow… some way the person communicating with “my dad” says something I know only he could say/tell me…

Then I gain everything!

I lose nothing from trying! shrugs shoulder

I gain a lot of insight from even the slightest bit or piece of specific information.

I went to the most reputable Medium I knew in Colorado… Nancy Hayes.

I was so curious to see if… what people throughout centuries experienced and wrote about… was true.

The session was held at our home office.

I was on the carpet floor with my laptop ready to be a part of a heavy conversation.

The conversation was so unexpected.

It wasn’t scary.

It was uncomfortable… because duh, my parent died and here I was, basically open to, like, a séance, but Nancy held me throughout the call as she was receiving information.

I had a smile on my face the whole time, not because Nancy was saying nice things but because she was saying things only my unique father would.

I was given a simple sentence that really changed the trajectory of my loss. And for that, I am grateful to Nancy and her gift.

Do I trust her? Absolutely.

Does she have a gift? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Would I recommend others to do the same after a loved-one has passed? No, because it’s not for everyone.

But it was for me!

I feel I liberated a lot of suppressed emotions through my reading that I no longer have to face for the rest of my life… but be aware of and move accordingly.

I’m very unconventional, but we’ve known this about me.

I’m not going to lie, having done this… so soon… felt like attaining a cheat code for this game called Life and now it’s not something that can ever hold me back…

but help me move forward and live my life.

And I think that’s what I want people to understand about me.

I am mourning.

I am still mourning.

My mourning just doesn’t look the way people might expect it to.

I miss my dad.

I will always miss my dad.

I will always be sad that I’ll be experiencing the rest of my life without him.

I refuse to let that sadness become fear.

I refuse to let the fear of losing people stop me from loving them.

My father lived his life to the fullest. I mean… the fullest.

And because so… I am going to live out mine.

Without fear.

Because I can’t be afraid of life just because death exists.

So I move.

I live.

I love.

I travel.

I experience.

I keep going.

And I’ve let all of my loved ones know this, especially my very Christian grandmother…

that she, too, will be hearing from me post-death.

Because apparently, death isn’t enough to keep me away from the people I love.

I regret nothing.

I miss my dad…

but not as much as I could be right now.

And that’s all I wanted to share!

May his Soul continue to rest peacefully and no longer be confined to the limitations this simulation of a realm constricts the soul of.

DAVID HUGO MORAN

March 15, 1966 – August 11, 2021

My favorite Pisces. My best friend.

Tearfully,

AMBER LINDSAY MORAN

Forever a daddy’s girl.

Originally written on December 21, 2023. Republished in 2026.

I’m leaving this exactly as I wrote it back in 2023.

Reading it now feels surreal.

At the time, I was a married mother living in Asia, reflecting on how quickly five years had passed since finding an empty journal page dated 2018. Now it’s 2026. I’ve moved countries, built new routines, experienced entirely new versions of myself, and somehow even more life has happened since then.

It’s funny how the things that once felt so monumental eventually become chapters within even bigger stories.

I wanted to share this piece as a reminder that time keeps moving with or without our conscious awareness of it. We blink, and years pass. We become people our younger selves couldn’t have imagined. The places we call home change. The things we fear change. The things we value change.

And yet, reading old words allows us to meet former versions of ourselves with compassion, gratitude, and a little bit of disbelief.

So here’s a small time capsule from me in 2023.

When I think of time, a certain painting pops into my head. A painting by Salvador Dali of those melting clocks. I think it’s because it truly does capture time’s essence. Basically, that time fades (or melts) from our grasps at whatever alarming rate it does.

I’m thinking about time randomly, because of what I found in a journal I’ve used throughout the years. I have so many journals that I’ve kept since college that are mostly empty. Due to the embarrassing fact that I never stuck with my studying or note taking. Still, I keep these journals because I actually don’t want to waste the paper, sue me.

When flipping a page on my preloved journal, the date “April 10, 2018” appeared at the top of an empty page. Were there any notes written underneath the time stamp? Absolutely not. But that just fascinated me.

I was in college in 2018 and I can’t even remember for what class I had gotten that specific notebook for, but to read that date five years later was telling all in itself. What has happened since that date in time? SO much. So so so much. In the greatest of ways and saddest of ways.

I can’t reiterate enough that there was NOTHING else written on that damn page… So it’s not that deep, but it is. For me at least.

Time made me nervous growing up. It actually gave me early feelings of anxiety, to be honest, and I didn’t know it at the time. I was ready to grow TF up. I was ready to do all the things that came with adulthood. I saw time differently then than I do now.

Time to me (in the past) meant events… and certain milestones.

Time for me now means moments and intangible feelings.

I can see that the days are long and the years are short. That saying never made sense to me, but it does now. I think because I have a child and am currently experiencing time through his age and evolution. Every day comes and goes so fast, and I don’t have time to process the time until the next birthday or next accomplishment of his. It’s a f***ing trip.

Five years had passed from that random date I found in my journal. I’m seriously so grateful to have come across that today. I’m married, a mother to my child(ren), and live in Asia… Like WTF! It has given me a deeper desire to want to journal every day. I also want to consistently post so that I can see my progression and writing style evolve for the better. Finding certain keywords via my website will be much easier than going through pages of my journal, that’s for sure!

We are all wrapping up 2023, and if you haven’t reflected on the time you’ve had so far… You should. Give yourself that acknowledgment so you have more motivation and desire to accomplish in the year ahead. You deserve it.

I love you, and I appreciate you all for reading my posts and knowing they’re RAW AF. I’m not trying to be grammatically correct or proper. I’m trying to share my voice and genuine way of being, organically and unapologetically.

xoxo,
ALM

Let me paint the picture.

I had beautiful moments. Good people around me. Opportunities. Kindness. Experiences people pray for.

And somehow I still found a way to feel miserable inside of it.

Not all the time. But enough that it became who I thought I was.

And the hardest part to admit?

A lot of it was coming from me.

Not because I’m evil or dramatic or incapable of happiness or whatever. But because I had gotten so comfortable living in disappointment that I didn’t even realize I was choosing it anymore!

That’s the weird thing about unhappiness. After a while, it starts feeling like your personality instead of a phase.

the myth of gratitude.

I used to think gratitude was something people magically felt once their lives got better. Like one day you wake up healed and suddenly start romanticizing your coffee and journaling at sunrise.

Nah… LOL.

Sometimes gratitude is literally forcing yourself to stop spiraling long enough to notice your life is happening while you’re busy being upset it isn’t perfect.

And I say this as someone who could find the flaw in ANYTHING. Like seriously.

A beautiful day? Too damn hot.

Something good happening? Well… that’s good… but what if it disappears?

Love? Fear.

Peace? Suspicion.

I was so f*cking exhausted. (Picture me ugly crying with desperation in my eyes when reading this sentence)

Not from life itself. From the way I was experiencing it.

the shift.

And I remember hitting this point where I just thought:
I genuinely cannot continue living inside my own head like this. What the f*ck am I doing.

Not in some huge dramatic rock-bottom way either. It was quieter than that.

Just this internal:

girl… enough. (I actually said b*tch but you get the point lol)

Enough ruining good moments by searching for what’s missing!
Enough carrying old pain into rooms that had nothing to do with it!!
Enough identifying with suffering so deeply that I neglect to remember I’m allowed to enjoy being alive too!!!

the tiny choices.

So I started smaller than people think transformation looks.

I didn’t become a new person overnight.
I didn’t suddenly heal all my wounds.
I didn’t wake up as some enlightened goddess floating through life glowing and healed. (Although I look like it guys… I’m not! Really! you flatter me…hehehe just kiddinggggggg 😉

I just started making different choices.

Tiny ones.

Choosing to go outside instead of rotting in my sadness.
Choosing to stop replaying old conversations that hurt me.
Choosing to laugh instead of staying committed to being upset.
Choosing to appreciate moments while they’re were happening instead of waiting until they became memories.

And eventually those tiny choices started changing me.

That’s the part nobody talks about enough:
you don’t usually FEEL yourself changing while it’s happening.

It’s gradual. Which kinda sucks for visually inclined and impatient individuals like ya girl right here 😀

Until one day someone says,
“You’re so different now”
And it almost catches you off guard because… wait. I do feel different.

being seen.

There’s something emotional about being seen in your growth by other people. Not because you need validation, but because sometimes healing happens soooooo slowly you don’t realize how far you’ve come until someone else reflects it back to you.

And honestly?

I’m grateful for all of it now!!!

The beautiful parts obviously. The loves. The adventures. The moments that felt cinematic and magical and once-in-a-lifetime!

But also if i’m being real, the horrible parts.

The heartbreaks, both romantically and platonically.
The confusion.
The loneliness.
The versions of me that felt impossible to carry (metaphorically & literally, you guys).

Because those seasons gave me contrast.

And without contrast, I don’t think I would’ve learned how to fully appreciate joy when it finally arrived.

The hard things didn’t destroy me, like at all.
They introduced me to myself, gave me glimpses of a life I wanted to know and be apart of sooner rather than later. 🦋

now.

And now? I don’t know?!!!!!!!

Life just feels different!✨

Not perfect.
Not easy.
Not free of grief or fear or uncertainty.

Just… alive.

I feel present in my own life again instead of mentally existing somewhere else all the time.

I notice so many things now!
The way sunlight cuts through the clouds.
My kids’ humor and the way they reaction to life.
Sounds outside that make themselves known to me indoors.
How soft the skin of another person’s hand is, in mine.
The moments of peace throughout an ordinary day.

I used to overlook those moments constantly because I was waiting for bigger things to finally make me happy.

Turns out life was already happening…

And maybe that’s what gratitude actually is!

Not pretending everything is beautiful.
Not toxic positivity.
Not forcing happiness.

Just allowing yourself to fully witness your life while it’s here!!!!

And for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say this:

I love my life!!!

Not because everything went according to plan.
Not because nothing hurts anymore.
Not because I finally “arrived.”

I love it because I’m actually here for it now.

And it’s mine.

if you’re there right now.

So if you’re in that heavy place right now, this is what I’ll tell you:

You do not have to transform overnight.
You do not have to become a brand new person by tomorrow morning.

Just make one different choice today.

That’s it.

One!!!!

Open the window.
Taste the ingredients in your food slowly.
Text the person back who texted you.
Go outside and stay outside longer than you usually would.
Play the music louder!
Let yourself laugh without immediately ruining it with guilt. But also stay in the moment of laughter, because idk about y’all but I have laughed so hard only to be so sad about forgetting what it was that made me laugh so hard “that one time”.

Start there.

Because gratitude doesn’t suddenly appear once your life becomes perfect.

Sometimes gratitude is the thing that slowly pulls you back into your life while it’s still messy.

And once you catch a glimpse…
You’re not gonna stop going after it!

xoxoxoxox so many besitos,
Amber Lindsay M

Somewhere between heartbreak, healing, motherhood, moving countries, and rebuilding my life from the ground up… I found myself again.

As of May 1st, 2026, my divorce officially finalized. It’s strange how endings can feel so heavy and freeing all at once. I’ve spent the past year quietly creating, working, learning, surviving, and pouring love into the life I’m building for myself and my children here in Mexico.

A lot of people have asked what I do now, so here’s the honest answer: I create.

I write. I market. I build brands and websites. I help businesses bring their visions to life through YON, my digital marketing agency. I spend late nights editing, researching, designing, coding, creating campaigns, and helping people turn ideas into something tangible with amazing help from an expert I’m lucky enough to learn from.

If you’d like to support me, one of the best ways is simply by being here!!!

• Read my blog.

• Share my work.

• Request services through YON.

Every project, inquiry, referral, and kind word truly helps more than you know!!!!

Outside of the digital world, my mother and I have also been holding something small but meaningful together — our little brick-and-mortar shop where we sell gorgeous dresses for little girls and the delicate dessert: strawberries and cream. It’s become a reflection of slow living, resilience, community, and starting over.

And somewhere along the way, I also co-founded a very much needed services company here in Mexico — something many of my friends, travelers, families, and even strangers have personally asked me for help with over the years. More on that soon!

For now, I’m allowing myself to exist in this in-between season. Not everything is picture-perfect yet. Not everything is announced yet. But things are moving. Things are growing. And for the first time in a long time, life feels like it’s becoming mine again.

Thank you for being here while I build it.

xxxxxx, AMBER LINDSAY MARTINEZ

If you know anything about me, know this — I’m grateful.

I always have been. And I always will be.

Not in a surface-level, everything-is-perfect kind of way. Not the Instagram caption version of it. Not the kind you perform to seem more enlightened.

In a grounded, intentional, I see life for what it is kind of way.

Gratitude, for me, isn’t something I tap into only when things are going right. It’s not a morning ritual I check off or a journal prompt I fill in before bed.

It’s who I am.

Because I’ve allowed myself to stay neutral long enough to understand that everything has meaning. Everything has purpose. Everything — even the hard stuff, even the confusing stuff, even the things I wouldn’t wish on anyone — has shaped me.

And for that? I'm grateful.

When you choose gratitude — not just as a practice, but as a way of being — you start to see everything differently. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is meaningless. Nothing is out of place.

What Gratitude as a Way of Living Actually Looks Like

There’s a difference between being grateful and living gratefully.

Being grateful is reactive. Something good happens, you feel it, you note it. That’s beautiful — but it’s not what I’m talking about.

Living gratefully is proactive. It’s the lens you see through before anything even happens. It’s the baseline you return to, over and over, regardless of what life is doing.

It looks like:

— Finding meaning in the season you’re in, not just the one you’re waiting for.

— Trusting that what’s unfolding is doing so on purpose, even when you can’t see the full picture.

— Seeing the contrast in your past — the hard chapters, the off-alignment seasons — as gifts rather than evidence that something went wrong.

It’s not toxic positivity. It’s not pretending. It’s a grounded, honest recognition that life is working with you, not against you.

I’m Grateful to Be Exactly Who I Am, Right Now

There is something so powerful about existing in this exact moment — being aware, being present, being in it.

I’m grateful for the abundance I experience daily. For the never-ending luck that seems to follow me. And I say luck loosely, because it’s not really luck — it’s what happens when you move through life with your eyes open, when you’re looking for the good and you actually find it.

I’m grateful for the choices I’ve made. Even the ones that didn’t make sense at the time. Even the ones that led me somewhere I never planned to go.

Because looking back? Everything unfolded perfectly. Naturally. In a way that couldn’t have been forced if I tried.

And I trust that.

I’m Grateful for Every Version of Me — Even the Ones That Were Hard to Look At

I’ve lived lives that didn’t align with who I truly am.

I’ve had seasons where I was drinking consistently, where I wasn’t moving my body, where I felt disconnected from the version of me I knew I could be. Seasons where I was going through motions that felt hollow, chasing things that didn’t fill me up.

And still — I’m grateful!!!!

Because those versions of me gave me contrast. They gave me awareness. They gave me the clarity I walk with now.

There is power in knowing what doesn’t align — because it brings you closer to what does.

I don’t look back at those chapters with shame. I look back with warmth, actually. Because that girl was doing her best. She was still searching. She was still becoming.

And she brought me here.

I’m Grateful for the People in My Life

Every connection. Every conversation. Every shared moment — even the brief ones, even the complicated ones — has added something to my life.

One thing about me: I hold space. I see people. I feel people.

I’m grateful that I have the capacity to do that — to be genuinely present with others, to meet people where they are and actually care what I find there.

Even the people who couldn’t meet me where I was. Even the relationships that ended or faded or hurt. Even those.

Because I gave from a place of authenticity. I showed up real. And that’s something I’ll never regret.

I’m Grateful for My Foundation — Especially My Mom

I’m deeply grateful for my mother. My saving grace.

There are people in your life who ground you without even trying. Who remind you who you are just by being themselves. Whose love is there, when available, that it becomes part of your foundation without you even realizing it.

That kind of love — that kind of presence — is rare.

And I don’t take it for granted. I never have.

I Trust Myself — And That Changes Everything

I’m grateful that I trust my gut.

That I trust my energy. That I allow it to guide my heart, my decisions, and the way I move through life.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: when you trust yourself, everything shifts!!!

You stop forcing. You stop second-guessing every step. You stop outsourcing your knowing to people who don’t live in your body.

You start allowing.

And that’s where life begins to flow! That’s where things start to click. That’s where the good stuff lives.

Self-trust isn’t arrogance. It’s alignment. It’s choosing to honor what you know, even when no one else can see it yet.

I’m Grateful for My Present — Even the Parts Still Unfolding

I’m grateful for my present moment. Because so much is happening for me, on my behalf, even when I can’t fully see it yet.

There’s a quiet unfolding always taking place. A slow convergence of everything I’ve been building, everything I’ve been healing, everything I’ve been becoming.

And I trust it.

I’m grateful to have what I have. To feel what I feel. To experience life as deeply as I do — because not everyone lets themselves go there. Not everyone gives themselves permission to feel it all.

I do!!! And I’m grateful for that too.

Gratitude Is My Way of Living — And It Can Be Yours Too

If you’ve been waiting to feel grateful — waiting until things get better, until the situation changes, until life looks different — I want to gently offer you this:

What if you started now?

Not because everything is perfect. Not because the hard things aren’t hard. But because gratitude — real gratitude, grounded gratitude — doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.

It lives in the in-between. In the ordinary moments. In the contrast. In the becoming.

When you choose it — not just as a practice, but as a way of being — you start to see everything differently.

Nothing is wasted.

Nothing is meaningless.

Nothing is out of place.

Everything just… is.

And in that space, you find peace. You find clarity. And most importantly, you find yourself.

I’m so grateful.

xoxo,

AMBER LINDSAY MAR

I’m an astrology girlie — IFYKYK.

But honestly, if you’ve been here for a while, you already knew that. I’ve always been drawn to the arts — especially the unseen arts. The kind that don’t just look pretty or sound nice, but actually mean something. The kind that help you understand yourself on a level that feels almost… unfair. Like you’ve been given insider information on your own soul.

And spirituality? Don’t even get me started!!!

It’s so vast. So layered. So beautifully overwhelming! There are so many niche pockets within it that it almost feels impossible to choose just one path. I never wanted to (lol). I’ve always been the type to explore, collect, feel, and know. Ya know???

But about a year ago, something found me that didn’t just feel like another layer…

It felt like the glue!!!

How I Found Human Design (Or How It Found Me)

A very good friend of mine, Ashlee, casually brought up Human Design one day and asked if she could read my chart.

And I was like — wait… what????

Because how are you going to tell an astrology girlie there’s something connected to astrology that she’s NEVER heard of???

Immediately I was like:
“UM YES PLEASE?!?!??!”

So she starts reading my chart…

And by the time she finished telling me everything she knew about me…

I was crying.

No, really like — I was bawling.

Because she was putting words to things I had always felt but never knew how to explain. The way I move. The way I respond. The way I process. The way I protect my energy. The way I love.

It was like someone handed me a mirror I didn’t even know existed!!!!

What Human Design Actually Feels Like

I could sit here and give you the textbook definition, but that’s not really how I do things here.

Human Design feels like:

• A map of your energy

• A manual for how you’re meant to move through life

• A system that blends astrology, intuition, energetics, and real-life application

• A permission slip to be exactly who you are

But more than anything?

It feels like cheat codes to this game called life.

And once you see it… you can’t unsee it.

Strategy & Authority: The Part That Changed Everything

If you know, you know.

And if you don’t… this is your sign!

Human Design introduces this concept of Strategy and Authority — which is basically your personal, built-in guidance system for decision-making.

Not your mom’s voice.
Not society.
Not your trauma.
Not your overthinking.

YOU.

Your body. Your energy. Your truth.

Ever since I started actually following mine…

Life has felt different.

Smoother.
Safer.
Aligned.
Protected.

Like things just… work out.

And I’m not saying life becomes perfect — but I am saying you stop forcing things that were never meant for you in the first place.

Yes… I Read My Babies’ Charts Too

Of course I did.

Be so for real.

The moment I realized what Human Design could do for me, I immediately wanted that insight for my kids.

Because imagine growing up with someone who actually understands:

• how you’re meant to be guided

• how you process emotions

• how you make decisions

• what drains you vs. what fuels you

That’s not just helpful… that’s life-changing.

It’s like giving them a head start in a world that can already feel confusing and overwhelming.

And if I can make their lives even a little bit easier, a little more aligned, a little more them…

I’m going to.

Why I’m Sharing This With You

I don’t gatekeep things that genuinely change my life.

Especially not in a world that already feels so disconnected, so lonely, so “figure it out on your own.”

Nope!!! Never that.

We’re not doing that here.

If I find something that helps me feel:

• divinely protected

• deeply understood

• energetically aligned

• and actually supported in how I move through life

…I’m sharing it.

Because we’re doing this together.

Always!!!!!!

Where You Can Get Your Human Design Chart (For Freeeeeeeeeeeee)

If you’ve made it this far, I already know you’re curious.

And I love that for you!

You can pull your free Human Design chart here:

👉 https://www.myhumandesign.com/get-your-chart/

All you need is your:

• birth date

• birth time

• birth location

(Yes… just like astrology. Ofc it is lol.)

From Me to You

I’m sharing this softly, gently, like I would with a friend sitting across from me over coffee.

No pressure. No “you have to believe this.” No intensity. None of that.

Just…

If you’ve ever felt like:

• you don’t quite fit into the way the world says you should operate

• you’ve been forcing things that never feel fully right

• you know there’s more to you, but can’t quite explain it

This might be something worth exploring.

It changed my life!!!

And if it resonates with you even a little…

Then I’m really, really glad you found this.

mmmmmmmuuuuuahhhhhhhhhh,

AMBER LINDSAY MAR (Your MG Opportunist- Role Model 4/6)

BTW my friend Ashlee and I were paid to be in a Korean Tourism commercial… I never shared with anyone because… I def don’t look like that now 😉 But man!!! did we have the best time laughing our asses off… Happy to have been able to have this experience with my babies forever!

There’s a version of motherhood where you disappear into the role so completely that even your children don’t know who you actually are.

They know Mom.

They know the one who fed them and worried about them and showed up.

But they don’t know the woman.

And I realized recently — that scares me more than almost anything.

The Hats We’re Required to Wear

Being a parent in the early years is physically demanding in a way that nothing prepared me for.

You are needed at a cellular level. You are someone’s entire world before they even have the language to tell you so.

And you wear so many hats. Caretaker. Protector. Scheduler. Soother. Safe place.

I wore all of them (and continue to).

But underneath every single one of those hats… there’s me.

Amber. Not just Mom.

A woman who thinks too deeply and laughs too fucking loudly and has hella interests and fears and a whole interior world that has nothing to do with school drop-offs.

And I want my children to know her. 💕

Why This Matters More Than I Can Explain

Part of this is selfish and I will own that completely.

I want to feel less alone.

I want to be seen — truly, specifically seen — by the people I love most in this world.

Not as a role. Not as a function. As a human being.

But it’s also not just about me.

I need my children to want to know themselves!!!

And they will only learn how to do that if they watch me do it first.

If they grow up knowing a mother who was curious about herself, honest about her evolution, unafraid to be a full human in front of them — that becomes their template.

That’s the inheritance I actually want to leave them.

Not just a mom who sacrificed everything.

A woman who chose herself — and showed them it was possible.

What Grows When They Can Talk Back

Once they’re aware. Once they’re communicating.

Something extraordinary happens.

The bond stops being entirely physical and becomes imaginative. It becomes verbal. It becomes two people genuinely delighting in each other’s minds.

And it only evolves with the years.

I get to watch my kids become people. Real, specific, hilarious, complicated yet UNIQUE individuals.

And they get to watch me be one too!!!

That reciprocity — that mutual becoming — is something I didn’t fully understand I was signing up for when I became a mother.

But it might be the best part.

A Love Letter to Who I’m Becoming (In Front of Them)

I’m excited for them to know my real laugh. My actual opinions. My bad jokes and my deep thoughts at 11pm (as well as 3PM) and the things I believe in that have nothing to do with them.

I want them to love me — not the performance of me.

Not the hats. Not the roles. Me!!!!

And the only way that happens is if I stay committed to knowing myself first.

For myself. For them. For whoever I’m still in the process of becoming.

You come here. You see me. And that makes me feel like all of this is worth it!

Keep reading ↓

If this one landed — I Want To Be Good At Co-Parenting is the honest next piece. It’s about what love for your kids actually looks like when the family structure shifts.

And if the idea of knowing yourself — truly, for the first time — feels both terrifying and necessary right now, start with I Spent Years Pouring Into Everyone But Myself. It’s the companion piece to everything I said here.

For the mornings before they wake up — when it’s just you — Uninterrupted Me Time: Why Waking Up at 5AM Changed My Life is where the real self-knowing starts.

muah muahhhhhh,

AMBER LINDSAY MAR

I used to think I was a good person because I gave so much.

My time. My energy. My undivided attention — the kind you give someone when you really, truly believe they are the most important thing in your world.

I gave it freely. Generously. Sometimes Most of the time desperately.

And I gave it entirely to people who weren’t me.

How Cruel. Of Me. To Myself.

That sentence sat with me for a long time before I could really feel it.

Because I didn’t think of myself as someone being capable of such cruelty… especially to myself. I thought I was loving. I thought I was devoted. I thought showing up that hard for others was a virtue.

But what I was actually doing was just abandoning myself.

Every hour I spent emotionally managing someone else was an hour I wasn’t spending getting to know me!

Every ounce of love I funneled outward was love I was starving myself of.

Every time I made someone else’s growth, healing, or happiness my primary project — I was quietly, consistently telling myself: you come last.

How inconsiderate and disheartening.

Not just to me — but to everything I was meant to become.

We’re Literally Conditioned for This

And I say “I’m not sure how I got here” — but actually, I think I do know.

We are indoctrinated from birth to orient ourselves around other people.

Find a partner. Build a family. Be needed. Be chosen. Be good for someone.

One of my fav lines that really speak to me:

I know supposedly I’m lonely now (lonely now)
Know I’m supposed to be unhappy
Without someone (someone)
But aren’t I someone?

The question no one asked us — the one I’m asking now — is: for what?

What’s the actual purpose of outsourcing your sense of self to someone else’s love for you?

I’ll tell you what I think. I think it’s a really elegant distraction. A socially celebrated way to never have to sit alone with yourself long enough to actually know yourself.

Because if you’re always pouring into a relationship, a dynamic, a family unit — you’re busy.

And busy people don’t have to do the terrifying work of facing themselves.

The Decade I’m Reclaiming

I don’t say “a decade” lightly.

I mean: real years. Real seasons. Real versions of myself that deserved tenderness and got output instead.

I was productive — for everyone but me.

I was focused — on everything outside of me.

I was generous — to people who would have been fine without it.

And I — I — was not fine.

What’s Different Now

Now I know that everything I was pouring outward needs to come back home.

The attention. The patience. The deep curiosity. The devotion.

That’s mine.

I’m giving myself all of it. All of what I gave to others for the past decade.

Not as punishment to anyone else. Not bitterly.

Just as the most honest act of love I’ve ever committed.

I don’t know everything about who I am yet. But I’m finally looking. ✨

That’s the beginning. That’s everything.

Keep reading ↓

If you’ve been stuck in the loop of managing everyone else’s world — you’ll want to read You Can’t Control Other People — And You Were Never Supposed To. It’s the next piece of this same conversation. 🌱

And if the idea of coming back to yourself after years of pouring outward feels unfamiliar — Date Yourself After Marriage is a softer place to start.

For the side of this that’s about privacy and peace — protecting your energy by being intentional about who gets access to you — Privacy Has Given Me Peace goes hand in hand with everything I just said here.

xxxxxxxxooooooxxxxxoooooxxxxx,

AMBER LINDSAY M

Let me ask you something.

How many hours — how many years — have you spent trying to manage someone else’s behavior?

Their moods. Their choices. Their love for you.

How long have you been quietly exhausted trying to be enough for someone who had already decided you weren’t?

Here’s what I know now.

You cannot control other people.

You never could.

And the wildest, most disorienting part? We walk around acting like we actually can — while simultaneously losing our grip on ourselves entirely.

The Illusion We Were Sold

We are so deeply, embarrassingly disillusioned.

We believe — somewhere underneath all the self-help books and therapy sessions and mantras — that if we just say the right thing, show up the right way, love them hard enough…

They’ll change. They’ll choose us. They’ll finally get it.

But … the moment you choose to pour your energy into reshaping someone else’s reality, you’ve already abandoned your own.

You’re not in your life anymore.

You’re in theirs.

And they didn’t even ask you to be.

You Can Barely Control Yourself, My Love

I say this with full love and zero judgment because I am very much talking to myself here.

We can’t control our emotional responses half the time. We can’t stick to routines we set for ourselves. We snap at people we adore. We self-sabotage our own peace on a Thursday for no reason.

And yet.

Yet!!!!

We think we’re qualified to run someone else’s inner world?

Wrong-o. Fuck no.

The only person you have any real influence over is you. Your energy. Your focus. Your reactions. Your growth.

That’s it. That’s the whole point of it all.

What Letting Go Actually Feels Like

I won’t romanticize it. Letting go of the idea that you can control outcomes — or people — is terrifying.

Because if you’re not fixing things, what are you doing?

If you’re not managing the situation, who are you?

But underneath that fear is something quieter. Something that felt radical to me when I finally landed on it:

The only thing I was ever supposed to tend to was myself.

Not neglecting others. Not being cold or unbothered or “healed beyond emotion.”

Just… coming home to myself first. Every single time.

That’s the work.

And honestly? It’s enough!!! Like for real.

There’s always should’ve, would’ve, could’ve.

But we only have now.

And from NOW on — I’m focusing where it actually counts. 🌱

Keep reading ↓

If this one hit — you’ll want to read The Divorce Is Not The Hard Part. The Attachment Is. — where I talk about what detachment actually looks like in real life, not just in theory. 💕

And if you’ve been thinking about what it even means to focus on yourself after years of pouring outward — Date Yourself After Marriage is the place to start.

besos,

AMBER LINDSAY MAR

Let me just say something that might make you do a double take.

I am blessed to be going through a divorce.

Not broken. Not bitter. Not a cautionary tale.

Blessed.

And I don’t say that lightly.

Here’s What Nobody Tells You About Divorce

We know the stereotype.

One person is devastated. The other is relieved. One is clinging. The other is already gone. One is humiliated. The other feels free. One is confused. The other has been sure for years.

That’s the version of divorce we grew up watching — in our families, in movies, in the group chats. And for a lot of people? That’s exactly how it goes.

But here’s the thing nobody really talks about:

The pain of divorce isn’t actually about the divorce.

It’s about attachment.

Attachment to what you thought forever was supposed to look like. Attachment to the opinions of people who don’t sleep in your bed or live inside your life. Attachment to an identity — wife, husband, couple, family — that you’ve been building for years and suddenly have to set down.

That’s the hard part.

Not the paperwork. Not the logistics.

The letting go of what you expected to be true.

My Divorce Looks Different. And I’m Grateful For That.

My ex-husband and I both know this is right.

We both have hope. We both have faith that our lives will be better — much better, not worse — because of this decision. We’re both focused on our children’s well-being. We both know we deserve something different.

We both do.

And that clarity? It changes everything.

Because when you’re not fighting over who was right, you can actually focus on what comes next. When neither is the villain nor the victim in the story… you’re not carrying the weight of a narrative that doesn’t serve either of you.

It’s only possible — this kind of peaceful, chosen, whole ending — when detachment is real.

Not performed. Not forced.

Real.

Detachment Doesn’t Mean You Don’t Care

I want to be clear about this because it gets misunderstood.

Detachment isn’t coldness.

It’s not “I don’t care about any of this.” It’s not shutting yourself off or going numb or skipping the grief because you’re too proud to feel it.

Detachment is:

I trust that I don’t need to understand everything right now to know that I’m okay.

Detachment is releasing your grip on the future.

Not knowing — and being genuinely fine with not knowing.

It’s the difference between standing in a storm demanding it stop and just… letting it rain on you while you walk calmly toward somewhere dry.

People have noticed something different about me lately. A shift. A lightness. And they want to attribute it to the divorce — like the marriage was the problem and now it’s over, so I’m free.

But that’s not quite it.

The transformation I feel is the detachment.

The divorce is just what happened.

On How I Entered This Marriage (Yes, I’m Going There)

I was twenty years old when someone asked me to elope.

I went to sleep that night and played both paths in my head — if I do, if I don’t, what I’d feel, who I’d become — and woke up thinking: I get to find out.

I didn’t want to say no because I genuinely had FOMO about being a wife. Before FOMO was even a thing, I had it!!! 😂

Absolutely absurd. It was. I was twenty. Judge me all you want — you’re judging someone who no longer exists and honestly couldn’t be less bothered.

But I’ll tell you something else I thought that night — and I swear these were my actual words:

"If he pisses me off I can just divorce him"

I know. I KNOW.

But here’s why I’m sharing that — not to be shocking, but because it’s actually kind of profound in retrospect. I entered marriage with my eyes open to the option of divorce. Not because I was planning for failure. But because my parents divorced after 19 years, and I grew up knowing that it exists. That it’s real. That it’s sometimes right.

We can’t walk into marriage completely oblivious to that.

And yet… we do. We almost always do.

I’m not holding shame on that. I’m just saying.

Then Austin came.

And everything changed.

My son opened my heart in a way that genuinely cannot be explained to someone who isn’t a parent. That kind of love — the kind that keeps your soul warm from the inside — it’s indescribable.

And because of it, divorce went to the back of my mind.

I thought: Every inconvenience. Every dismissal. Every discomfort. It’s worth it as long as my baby has both his parents at home.

And then I had Aurora.

And then more time passed.

And then… I had to change my mind.

You Are Allowed To Change Your Mind.

This is something I feel strongly about — maybe more than anything else in this post.

People hold onto their previous beliefs, their old values, their past decisions — not because those things still serve them, but because they’re afraid of being called fake. Indecisive. A follower.

I don’t care.

Change your fucking mind.

You are allowed to want something different than you wanted before. You are allowed to learn something that updates everything. You are allowed to become a person your past self wouldn’t fully recognize.

Do it unapologetically though. That part matters.

Because if you change your mind while still half-apologizing for it, you’re going to confuse yourself and exhaust your support system. Own the shift. Walk into it like you chose it — because you did.

Divorce Doesn’t Mean You Failed. It Means You’re Alive.

To anyone going through this right now — can I just say something?

You do not have to feel alone.

You do not have to feel scared.

And especially — you do not have to feel shame.

Fuck that. Genuinely, fuck that.

It didn’t work out. Okay. Are you dying?

No?

Then the opposite is true. You’re alive. And there’s a whole beautiful life of yours sitting there, waiting to be experienced differently.

It doesn’t matter who left who. What matters is the story you choose to carry. The respect you hold for yourself. The confidence that comes from having clarity — even when clarity is just “I know this isn’t right anymore.”

That’s enough. More than fucking enough, actually.

Detachment Is the Practice. Not the Destination.

Here’s what I want you to take from all of this:

The transformation you’re witnessing in people who come out of hard seasons glowing — it’s not because the hard thing is over.

It’s because they stopped gripping it.

They stopped demanding answers from a life that wasn’t meant to be forever. They stopped needing the future to look a specific way. They stopped outsourcing their peace to other people’s reactions.

You can do and feel and learn without dwelling. Without spiraling. Without deciding that because one version of forever didn’t last, you are somehow broken.

You’re not less.

You’re available.

Available for what’s actually meant for you.

And my love… it’s exciting. Even when it’s scary. Even when it’s messy. Even when you don’t have a single clue what comes next.

Especially then.

Allow it!

It’s happening with or without your consent.

my most sloppy kiss yet,

AMBER LINDSAY MARTINEZ

(Even after divorce, the name is yours. It’s entirely up to you whether you care about that or not. I’ve had this name for a while now… and I share it with my beautiful children. I’m not mad about it. Not even a little 💞)

I technically hadn’t started my vision board for 2026 yet.

And doing it today– the day before the Lunar New Year–felt like the most perfect timing imaginable.

Not late.

Not rushed.

Aligned.

I’ve always been a 100% believer in vision boards BECAUSE every single one of mine has come true. Every. Single. One.

I swear.

People ask if there’s a trick to them.

Duh!

It’s never been about the board itself– it’s about what happens to you after you make it.

Once you see something clearly, your subconscious begins orienting your life toward it. Your decisions change. Your energy changes. Your standards change.

You change.

And suddenly, your life follows.

The Vision Board That Predicted My Move to Mexico

I’ll share my 2025 vision board because it’s honestly terrifying how accurate it was.

On January 1st, 2025 I was married, living in South Korea, fully a stay-at-home mom. My life was there. My home was there. My identity… there.

And yet, on that vision board, I had placed my now permanent residence– a small town in Mexico.

At the time, I was just seriously hoping to visit it.

There was no plan. No timeline. No conscious decision.

It didn’t logically belong to my reality.

But something in me placed it there anyway.

And here we are!

Eight months later, my entire life rearranged itself into something I had already seen (in my board).

It’s mind-blowing.

Not because it’s impossible.

But because it proves that some part of us knows long before we consciously understand.

Vision boards don’t create something foreign.

They may just be revealing something familiar.

Vision Boards Work (It’s Not Magic, It’s You)

Vision boards work because they don’t just show you what you want.

They show you who you’re becoming.

Once your brain accepts an image as familiar, it stops resisting it. Your nervous system begins treating it as safe. Your subconscious begins making micro-adjustments in your decisions, your behavior, and your direction.

You stop forcing.

You start aligning.

You naturally move toward what feels like you.

Not someday.

Now.

The board itself isn’t magic.

Your subconscious recognition is!!!

Welcoming the Lunar New Year in Peace, Not Performance

This past Gregorian New Year, I didn’t celebrate at midnight.

I was home.

Asleep by 12:08.

My babies were out of country, and instead of forcing myself to stay awake and perform celebration (4 hours away from my home), I allowed myself to rest.

It was a first for me.

Welcoming the new year with intentional stillness.

Alone.

But completely at peace.

Not lonely.

Not sad.

Just deeply, genuinely peaceful.

Because peace had become more important than ceremony.

And maybe that’s why creating my vision board now– on the eve of the Lunar New Year– feels more honest.

More real.

Less performative.

More aligned with who I actually am.

The Year of the Snake: A Year of Shedding

This past year was the Year of the Snake.

And snakes shed.

Which is exactly what I did.

I shed identities.

Old emotional attachments.

Versions of myself that quietly expired without me realizing.

It wasn’t violent.

It wasn’t chaotic.

It was natural.

Necessary.

And now, standing at the edge of a new cycle, I can see how much of myself I’ve released.

Not in loss.

But in preparation.

Entering the Year of the Fire Horse: A Year of Movement, Destiny, and Momentum

Tomorrow, we enter the Year of the Horse.

More specifically– the Year of the Fire Horse.

This only happens once every 60 years.

The Horse symbolizes freedom, independence, forward movement, and personal expansion. (um hello yes I’m here for it… ALL!)

Fire intensifies everything it touches.

It adds passion. (eeeeep!)

Clarity.

Identity.

Courage.

Fire Horse years are known for accelerating people into their true lives.

People recalibrate.

Change their paths.

End cycles.

Begin again.

Not because they’re lost.

But because they’re finally ready.

Fire doesn’t hesitate. (says a stellium Fire sign lol)

And the Horse doesn’t ask permission to run.

So this year, I’m not chasing anything.

I’m letting myself gallop to it.

Why Creating a Vision Board Before the Lunar New Year Is So Powerful

The Lunar New Year isn’t just a calendar reset.

It’s an energetic reset.

It marks a transition between cycles– not artificially, but naturally.

Which makes it one of the most powerful times to set intentions.

Not from pressure.

But from clarity.

Vision boards created during this time don’t feel forced.

They feel recognized.

Because you’re not inventing a future.

You’re acknowledging one that already exists inside you.

Vision Boards Don’t Change Your Life– They Introduce You to It

Looking back, my vision boards didn’t create my life.

They introduced me to it.

They showed me pieces of myself I hadn’t consciously stepped into yet.

Things I didn’t logically understand.

Things that still found me anyway.

And now, creating this year’s vision board on the eve of the Fire Horse, I don’t feel like I’m asking for anything.

I feel like I’m accepting?

Accepting movement.

Accepting expansion.

Accepting the life that has already quietly begun forming around me.

Not forcing.

Not chasing.

Just stepping forward…

And trusting myself enough to follow.

xxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxo,

Amber Lindsay

Privacy has given me peace.

And I don’t say that lightly.

For most of my life, I never actually put my two feet into the deep end of not oversharing and publicizing my life. I thought being open meant being seen. I thought visibility meant validation. I thought expression meant exposure.

But honestly, not being seen by people has allowed me to see myself.

This realization changed everything.

Because when you step back from the noise of being perceived, you realized how you much of your identity was unconsciously shaped by the act of being watched.

And when that disappears, something sacred returns.

You.

The Illusion of Being “Seen”

From the outside looking in, there’s nothing to actually know– only assume.

And people can assume the craziest things based on absolutely nothing except their own fantasies about you.

It’s seriously so odd. Innit?!

To realize how much of what people “know” about you was never real in the first place.

It was projection. Interpretation. Fiction.

And for a long time, I participated in that system willingly. I offered pieces of myself to be interpreted (incorrectly), misunderstood, admired, judged, or consumed.

I thought that was connection.

But it’s not.

It was performance.

Privacy is Powerful AF

Being private holds so much fucking power (peace) that people can’t understand, yet.

Because they’re addicted to any sort of acknowledgment.

I know.

I was one of them.

There is a subtle dependency that forms when you share everything. You begin to experience yourself through the reactions of others instead of through your own direct presence.

You wait to be mirrored.

Validated.

Confirmed.

And without realizing it, you outsource your sense of self.

Choosing privacy disrupts that pattern.

Privacy returns you to yourself.

It removes the audience.

And suddenly, you’re not living to be witnessed.

You’re living to experience.

Privacy gives peace (power).

Privacy Forces You to Meet Yourself

I’ve been consistently learning about myself for some time now.

Not through what I say.

But I how I hold myself.

Through my interactions. My silence. My choices. My daily life.

Privacy has made me more honest with myself because there's no one to perform for.

No one to convince.

No one to impress.

Just me.

This is the kind of relationship that is irreplaceable.

Because when you stop narrating your life for others, you finally start living it like fully living it.

The Peace That Comes From Protecting Your Energy

I have peace now not because no one knows exactly what I’m doing, feeling, or experiencing–

— but because I am present with myself in all I’m doing.

The peace is within.

It always has been.

But I had to put it in a vulnerable position for many years.

Exposed.

Handled carelessly.

Given away without understanding it’s actual value.

For what?

Couldn’t fucking tell ya.

But now, I’m keeping it close.

Holding it close… gently.

Not tightly.

Because this is such a soft time in my life.

And I owe it to the peace that’s with me.

Keeping Things Sacred Changes How You Love

I used to think showing off was intimacy.

Showing just how much I loved someone. Showing how happy I was. Showing what I had.

I thought visibility proved depth.

Wrong-o.

Keeping something sacred and just mine has allowed me to fall in love safely.

Not cautiously.

Not fearfully.

But safely.

Because when something isn’t exposed to the constant presence of outside eyes, it has space to breathe.

To grow naturally.

To exist without pressure.

Privacy creates safety.

And safety creates real intimacy.

First with yourself.

Then with everything else.

Creating a Private Life Is Creating a Safe Life

I’m creating a safe space for myself now.

Privately.

Happily.

Not because I’m hiding.

But because I’m honoring.

There is a difference.

Hiding comes from fear.

Privacy comes from self-respect.

I no longer feel the need to make my life digestible for others.

I don’t feel the urge to document every moment for others.

I don’t feel incomplete without being witnessed.

Because I am witnessing myself.

And that’s enough.

More than fucking enough, actually.

It’s Giving… Inner Peace

My peace is seriously mine and mine alone.

Privacy has allowed me to remember that.

It’s allowed me to exist without fragmentation.

Without performance.

Without dilution.

Privacy isn’t isolation.

It’s integration.

It’s where you remember that your life is not content.

Your love is not proof.

Your peace is not something to display.

It’s something to live.

Quietly.

Fully.

And most importantly, freely.

xoxoxoxxxxxxxx so many besitos,

Amber

I’m at a Different Point in Life Than My Peers

I’m at a very different stage of life than most people my age—and I’m fully aware of it.

By now, I already understand what marriage is, how it functions, and what it requires. I’ve lived it. I’ve also experienced family life in its entirety—yes, even the version people call picture-perfect.

I don’t speak from theory or curiosity. Instead, I speak from experience.

My Family Is Complete

I have my perfect pair of children, and I feel complete because of them. For that reason, I don’t envision another baby in my future. I made that decision consciously and permanently through a bilateral salpingectomy, choosing clarity over uncertainty.

That choice brought me peace.

Rather than feeling loss, I feel relief. Rather than questioning my future, I feel grounded in it.

Choosing Myself, Intentionally

When it comes to companionship, I feel content exactly where I am.

At this point in my life, I’m not searching for another relationship. I’m not waiting to be chosen. Instead, I’m choosing myself—fully and without hesitation. I want to be enough for myself, and finally, I am.

For the first time, my fulfillment doesn’t depend on partnership. It comes from self-trust, independence, and emotional autonomy.

I LOVE Being Single

Truthfully, I love being a single woman.

I value the power that comes with independence. I appreciate the control I have over my time, energy, and direction. Most importantly, I’ve realized that this sense of sovereignty is exactly what I’ve always wanted—to have and to hold.

Not because I’m closed off.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because I’m whole.

And that makes all the difference.

hehehehehe,

AMBER LINDSAY MORAN

Throughout my six-year marriage, I was miserable.

Not because of him—he was a good man—but because of me. I didn’t trust my luck, my outcome, or my life. Instead, I lived in a constant state of anger. I stayed ungrateful, convinced I had somehow ended up with the worst version of life, even when that wasn’t true at all.

Looking back, I see how dangerous that mindset was.

It’s incredibly harmful to be an unhealed, hurting person who believes a good partner can soften your pain or make life better simply by loving you. No one is responsible for taking away your wounds. No one exists to distract you from your inner work by giving you everything you think you want. Expecting that from another human being is unfair—and honestly, cruel.

Marriage Didn’t Fulfill Me

Marriage wasn’t for me because it didn’t fulfill anything that needed filling.

I carried unresolved hurt into a union that required emotional maturity, gratitude, and presence. Instead of letting go of past pain, I allowed it to shape how I showed up. And pain, when left untreated, never creates a strong foundation for love.

Now, after separating and moving toward divorce, I understand something clearly: it’s careless—and deeply wrong—to assume marriage will carry your unhealed ways of thinking all the way to the grave.

For nine years, I had a companion. And yet, I failed to thank him or give him the credit he genuinely deserved.

That is my truth.

No Regret, Only Responsibility

However, don’t mistake my honesty for regret—because I don’t regret it.

I can’t. If I did, I wouldn’t understand the work I needed to do for myself. Instead, I choose accountability without self-destruction. I choose reflection without self-punishment.

More importantly, I feel genuine gratitude that my ex-partner now has the rest of his life to find and secure what real love looks and feels like. I truly mean that.❤️

Choosing Solitude Without Shame

I’m an only child—and if I’m being honest, I’ve always preferred being alone.

I value my space. I protect my time. I’m careful with my energy. Sharing those things has always felt like a sacrifice rather than a joy, and over time, that resentment quietly grew. Until it wasn’t so quiet anymore..

Marriage simply isn’t for me.

And I’m grateful I discovered that at 27, rather than at 40 or 50, when the cost of ignoring yourself becomes much higher.

I’m Sharing This Now

So why share something so personal?

Because it’s my truth—and I needed to let it out.

My beliefs, choices, and understanding of life have evolved through experience, not theory. I now know that I married too young.

I chose safety over curiosity.

Stability over self-discovery.

Certainty over being starry-eyed.

This chapter taught me what I don’t want—and more importantly, what I need to heal before choosing anyone again.

And that clarity?
That makes everything worth it.

kishy kishy,

AMBER LINDSAY MORAN

At 27 years old, I still play hide and go seek.
And honestly? I’m never NOT going to play it.

Some people my age feel like they need to “act grown,” slow down, or separate themselves from anything childlike once they become mothers. But for me, having children has done the opposite.

My kids keep me young.

They keep my imagination alive.

They feed my child-like wonder in a way nothing else ever could.

Being a Young Single Mom Doesn’t Mean Losing Your Inner Child

I’m a young, single mom in my mid-20s, and I genuinely believe that motherhood doesn’t have to mean losing yourself—or your joy. In our household, play is sacred. Laughter is normal. And hide and go seek? Oh, we take that very seriously.

This isn’t some half-hearted “okay, I’ll play for five minutes” type of thing. No. This is full commitment. Strategic hiding. Silent breathing. Holding in laughter until it physically hurts.

Hide and Go Seek at Night Is Elite Parenting (For Real Though)

Hide and go seek is best at night.
Try it and thank me later.

For me, it’s elite because I love jump-scaring them (muahahahaha). But also because the house feels different at night—quieter, calmer, almost magical. The whispers. The tiny footsteps. The muffled giggles.

You guys don’t understand how close I come to peeing myself from holding in my breath and trying not to laugh while hiding. I hear my kids mumbling to themselves, making plans out loud, giving themselves away completely—and it is the purest thing ever.

Those moments? They’re everything.

Playtime Is Connection, Not Just Fun

Playing with my children isn’t something I force myself to do. It’s something I love doing. Always have. Always will.

Playtime is connection. It’s presence. It’s telling your kids—without words—that they matter more than your phone, your stress, or the outside world. For young moms especially, play reminds us that we don’t have to choose between being responsible adults and joyful humans.

WE CAN BE BOTH.

I’ll Always Choose Play With My Kids

One day, they won’t ask me to play hide and go seek anymore. One day, the house will be quieter. And I know I’ll miss these moments more than anything.

So yes—at 27 years old, I still play hide and go seek.
I still crawl into closets and under beds.
I still hold my breath behind doors.
I still laugh until my stomach hurts, seriously.

Because being a mother doesn’t mean growing old.
Sometimes, it means getting to be a kid all over again—through your children’s eyes.

And that? That’s something I’ll never EVER take for granted.

xoxoxoxxxxooooxxxxooo,

AMBER LINDSAY M

For the first time in a long time, I’m taking myself out on dates.

Not because I’m lonely.
Not because I’m “trying to move on.”
But because I finally have the time, space, and emotional capacity to ask myself one simple question:

What do I want to do today?

And then actually do it—without guilt.

Learning How to Be Alone (Even Though I Always Was)

Here’s the part that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it:

I was married… but I was alone most of the time.

My marriage revolved around someone else’s schedule, someone else’s commitments, someone else’s priorities. His work came first—often at the cost of connection, presence, and shared experiences. I learned how to wait (not really because it made me sad and mad). How to adjust (I had no choice and it was hidden under ‘resiliency’). How to be flexible (Again, no choice in the matter). How to not ask for too much (I would and that would cause tension and upheaval).

So yes, I was “alone” back then.

But this kind of aloneness?
This one feels different.

This one feels chosen.

Which I’m grateful for.

Dating Myself and Finally Listening to What I Want

Now that I’m single, something unexpected has happened.

I don’t have to run my ideas by anyone.
I don’t have to compromise my plans.
I don’t have to shrink a desire because it’s inconvenient for someone else.

If I want coffee at noon instead of 7 a.m.—I go.
If I want to wander a bookstore for an hour—I stay.
If I want to sit alone with my thoughts and music and a glass of something warm—I let myself.

These solo dates have become a form of self-trust.

Every time I follow through on my own plans, I’m quietly telling myself:

You matter. Your desires matter. Your time matters.

Choosing Myself Without Guilt

This might be the biggest shift of all.

I’m choosing myself without guilt.

No apologizing.
No over-explaining.
No internal dialogue about how my choices affect someone else’s mood, schedule, or expectations.

I get to choose where I go.
I get to choose how long I stay.
I get to choose what nourishes me.

And for the first time, I’m realizing how much of my life used to be shaped around someone else’s needs—while mine sat patiently on the back burner.

I Never Knew I Needed This Kind of Aloneness

I didn’t know I needed to be alone like this.

Not the lonely kind.
Not the abandoned kind.
But the intentional, self-led, deeply grounding kind.

The kind where you rediscover your preferences.
The kind where silence becomes peaceful instead of heavy.
The kind where you remember who you were before you learned how to accommodate everyone else.

This season isn’t about isolation—it’s about reconnection.
With myself.
With my intuition.
With the version of me that gets to choose freely.

Why Taking Yourself on Dates Is a Form of Healing

If you’re newly single, freshly divorced, or simply exhausted from always putting others first—this is your reminder:

Taking yourself on dates isn’t selfish.
It’s not sad.
It’s not a placeholder for “real” companionship.

It’s practice.

Practice in listening to yourself.
Practice in honoring your wants.
Practice in building a life that feels good from the inside out.

And honestly?
I don’t think I’ll ever stop dating myself—even when someone new eventually comes along.

Because now I know what it feels like to choose me.

xoxoxoxoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx,

AMBER LINDSAY M

I used to hear it all the time.

“Enjoy it. Time goes by so fast.”
“You’ll blink and they’ll be grown.”
“Put your phone down. You’ll regret not being present.”

And I believed them… but not fully. Not until I became a mom myself.

Now? I get it. Deeply.

These days, I’m incredibly intentional about how I spend my weekends — especially with my children. My phone is away. Notifications are off. The outside world can wait. Because my kids? They can’t.

Being Present Is a Choice (And One I Take Seriously)

In a world where we’re constantly connected, being present with your children takes effort. It’s not accidental. It’s a decision you have to make over and over again.

On weekends, I choose to be fully present.

No scrolling while they play.
No answering emails mid-conversation.
No half-listening while my mind is somewhere else.

Just me and them.

Because childhood is fleeting. And I refuse to miss it.

Intentional Motherhood Over Hustle Culture

There was a time when I felt guilty for slowing down. For not always being “productive.” For choosing connection over content.

But I’ve learned something important:
Presence is productive.

Spending quality time with my children — really seeing them, hearing them, laughing with them — is one of the most meaningful investments I’ll ever make.

This is what intentional motherhood looks like to me:

• Being emotionally available

• Creating memories instead of documenting every second

• Choosing connection over distraction

• Letting my kids feel seen, heard, and safe

And yes — that often means my phone stays far away.

The Weekends Are Sacred in Our Home

Weekends aren’t about schedules or pressure here. They’re about:

• Slow mornings

• Messy play

• Long conversations

• Laughter that fills the house

• Little moments that won’t last forever

I’ve learned that kids don’t need extravagant plans or constant entertainment. They need you. Your attention. Your presence. Your love.

And they feel it when you’re distracted — even if they don’t say it.

Time Really Does Pass Too Fast

My mommy friends were right.

Time doesn’t just pass — it disappears.

One day you’re rocking them to sleep, and the next they’re running ahead of you, independent and sure of themselves. These seasons are short. Painfully short.

So I’m choosing to soak them in.

To remember the sound of their laughter.
The way they mispronounce words.
The way they reach for my hand without thinking.

Because one day… they won’t.

Why I Put My Phone Down for My Kids

I’m not anti-technology. I’m not unrealistic. But I am intentional.

My children deserve my undivided attention — not the leftovers after my phone gets the best of me.

Putting my phone down on weekends allows me to:

• Be emotionally present

• Strengthen our bond

• Model healthy boundaries with technology

• Create a safe, loving environment

• Build memories that actually last

And honestly? It’s grounding for me too.

Final Thoughts on Being an Intentional Mom

Motherhood has taught me that the most valuable thing I can give my children isn’t things, experiences, or even answers.

It’s my time.

So if you’ve been feeling the pull to slow down… to unplug… to be more present — this is your sign.

Put the phone down.
Look at them.
Hold them a little longer.

Because time really does go by fast — and these moments are everything.

xxxooooxoxxxoooxxx,

AMBER LINDSAY M

I wake up at 5AM every single morning.
Not because I’m trying to be productive.
Not because I’m romanticizing hustle culture.
And definitely not because some billionaire morning routine told me to.

I do it because it’s the only time of day that belongs completely to me.

Before the world wakes up.
Before messages, responsibilities, expectations, or noise.
Before anyone needs anything from me.

It’s just… me.

And that time? It’s sacred.

The Quiet Hits Different at 5AM

There is something about early mornings that feels untouched.
No urgency. No pressure. No one asking questions. No one needing answers.

The house is still.
The sky hasn’t decided what it’s going to be yet.
And my brain feels… softer.

This is the only time I can do whatever the hell I want without interruption.

Some mornings I read.
And lately? I’ve been reading a lot.

I forgot how much I love books. Like actually love them. The way a good book pulls you into another world and slows time down? Yeah. That kind of love.

(Also—remind me to start a book review series because omg. I have thoughts.)

Other mornings, I play a video from my Mindvalley year subscription. I’ll sit there wrapped in a blanket, half-awake, absorbing ideas about growth, healing, purpose, consciousness—whatever I feel called to that day.

No pressure to “finish.”
No pressure to “apply it immediately.”
Just listening. Being. Letting it land.

This Is What I Mean When I Say I’m Being Intentional

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m being intentional with my time now.

And I’m not kidding.

This isn’t a “new year, new me” phase.
This isn’t a January reset that disappears by February.

I don’t care if it looks like that from the outside.

I’m serious because—truthfully—I don’t have much else in my life right now that requires seriousness. So I’m choosing this.

I’m choosing myself.
My peace.
My inner world.

Waking up early isn’t about discipline for me. It’s about devotion.

Devotion to having at least one part of my day where no one gets access to me unless I invite them.

Uninterrupted Me Time Is Non-Negotiable Now

This hour in the morning doesn’t need to be productive.
It doesn’t need to make money.
It doesn’t need to impress anyone.

It just needs to feel good.

Some days I read ten pages.
Some days I stare into space.
Some days I journal.
Some days I learn something new.
Some days I do absolutely nothing—and that’s still enough.

Because this time reminds me that I exist outside of my roles.
Outside of expectations.
Outside of noise.

And honestly? That reminder changes everything.

Final Thoughts

Waking up at 5AM isn’t for everyone.
And I’m not here to convince you to do it.

But if you’ve been craving silence, clarity, or a deeper relationship with yourself—maybe the answer isn’t doing more.

Maybe it’s just waking up before the world and choosing yourself first.

Even if it’s just for an hour. 🤍

xoxoxox,

AMBER LINDSAY M

Since separating from my husband, I made one thing very clear to him:
our divorce is just that—our divorce.
Not his parents’. Not my parents’. Not anyone else’s.

Which means we actually get to do things differently. We get to learn from our parents’ mistakes instead of repeating them on autopilot.

While we’re waiting for the divorce to finalize, I didn’t want this past holiday season to suck—at least not for my children. After everything they’ve gone through in the last six months—moving countries, changing schools, and starting an entirely new life without the physical presence of the only other adult they’ve ever known—it just made sense for them to spend Christmas with their father.

I’m a modern hippie. I truly do not care about holidays the way most people do. To me, they’re often just another reason to feel guilted into spending unnecessary money on things for other people instead of yourself… LOL.

But because of that, I wanted my children to experience their God-given American right and have Christmas and New Year’s the way we do in the States.

So I let them go.

Two weeks.
Fourteen exact days without my children.

And it was needed.

I feel for both sides. Truly.

They came home today, and I am so happy. Like ridiculously happy. Hearing their screams. Their cries. Cleaning up throw up. No—seriously. I cleaned my daughter’s throw up within an hour. No moaning, no groaning, no dramatic sighs.

Just pure joy.

I missed it.
I missed them.

I wanted to share a message a very dear friend sent me—one that completely shifted my perspective and made me pause, breathe, and really sit with the truth of what co-parenting actually looks like.

What did you get the babies for Christmas?
It’s a trick question.
You got the babies their father for Christmas.
It’s a very kind and loving gift to give to them.
It’s a a gift that won’t return the same to you.
And that’s important for Amber to look at Amber.
And say. “Yes. I gave up my Christmas. So the babies could have the Christmas they did.” ❤️
And tonight you get to clean up the mess that happens every Christmas morning. YOU get to clean up the “wrapping paper”from the babies gifts.
What “wrapping paper”?
That’ll be later tonight.
Austin will miss his dad.
Aurora will be a little confused.
And both of them will be out of routine.
The routine that You have built for them these last few months.
The routine their dad gave them for Christmas.
That’s what you get to do later tonight.
Seems unfair.
Seems like bullshit.
It is.
You will get your Christmas present tomorrow.
Tomorrow when you get up.
The babies will be there with you.
(Still out of routine but on their way to getting back in the groove.)
That’s your Christmas present. The babies.
You’re a wonderful, special, beautiful, loving, confused, confident 27 year old young woman with an entire life ahead of her.
And you’re also a really really good mother. You are.

This is what healthy co-parenting after divorce actually looks like.
Not perfection.
Not fairness.
Not keeping score.

It’s choosing your children—even when it costs you something.

And I want to be good at that.

xxxooo,

AMBER LINDSAY M

Why I’m Choosing Copper Cookware (and Why It’s Part of My Intentional Living Era)

If you read my last blog post, you already know this: I’m being way more intentional with my life right now.
Not in a loud, performative way.
But in a quiet, everyday choices matter kind of way.

And honestly? That intention has to start somewhere real.
For me, it starts in my kitchen.

We talk so much about health, healing, nourishment, and “doing better,” but then we ignore the things we use every single day. The pans we cook our food in. The materials that touch our meals. The habits we repeat without thinking.

So I started thinking.
If I’m serious about being intentional… why wouldn’t I be intentional about what I cook with?

That’s how I landed on copper cookware.

Why Copper Is Actually Better for Cooking

I’ll be honest: at first, I was drawn to copper cookware because it’s beautiful. It feels old-world, grounded, almost sacred. Like something passed down, not mass-produced.

But the more I learned, the more it just made sense.

Copper heats evenly and quickly, which means:

• No hot spots

• No burning one side while the other is undercooked

• Less need to blast food on high heat

That alone changes how food cooks. Gentler heat = better nutrients preserved and better flavor.

Copper is also naturally antimicrobial.
Let that sink in for a second.

For centuries, copper has been used for water vessels and cooking because it doesn’t support bacterial growth the way other materials do. That’s not a trend — that’s ancestral wisdom.

How This Ties Into My Health & Eating

Being intentional with my health doesn’t mean restriction.
It doesn’t mean dieting or obsessing.

It means asking better questions:

• What am I putting into my body?

• How is my food being prepared?

• Am I supporting my nervous system or stressing it out?

Cooking with copper slows me down.
It makes me more present while cooking.
It encourages real meals instead of rushed ones.

And honestly, when I take care in how I cook, I naturally take more care in what I cook.

More whole foods.
More warm, nourishing meals.
Less rushing. Less microwaving. Less disconnect.

Intentional Living Isn’t Just Big Decisions

We think intentional living has to be this huge lifestyle overhaul.
But most of the time, it’s actually quiet.

It’s choosing:

• Better materials

• Slower processes

• Long-term health over convenience

Copper cookware isn’t about being fancy or aesthetic (even though it is).
It’s about aligning my daily habits with the life I say I want.

If I’m serious about healing, grounding, and nourishment, my kitchen has to reflect that too.

This Is Just the Beginning

I’m not perfect.
I’m learning as I go.
But I am choosing to be more aware.

And if intentional living starts anywhere, I truly believe it starts with what we feed ourselves — and how.

This is me walking my talk.
One pan at a time <3

xxxxooooo,

AMBER LINDSAY M