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“There Was No Parking Lot. Just a World Full of Ignorance and Trixie Has Logged Out.”

“There Was No Parking Lot. Just a World Full of Ignorance and Trixie Has Logged Out.” Towanda has entered the chat. Wheeza brought snacks. Betty White is chanting in the woods. The Ya-Yas are lighting a prayer candle. And Grandma Mary? Oh, she knew. Let’s get one thing out of the way: This ain’t about traffic. There was no parking lot brawl. No soccer mom showdown. This is deeper. This is about the slow, steady buildup of watching the world swirl in nonsense like it’s a hobby, and Trixie being forced to stand there like a calm, moisturized witness to the downfall of basic logic. I’m not angry. I’m just… awake. I’ve finally hit the stage of life where my tolerance for ignorance is lower than my carb count. And trust me: that bar is on the FLOOR. It’s not that I don’t love people. I do. I just don’t have the mental bandwidth to keep entertaining adults who treat personal growth like it’s optional. I used to be soft-spoken. I used to give grace like it was oxygen. But now? I b...

๐ŸŒธ Seeing With Her Heart: A Love Letter to the Too-Much Women

๐ŸŒธ Seeing With Her Heart: A Love Letter to the Too-Much Women They said she was too much. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too forgiving. Too passionate. Too intense. Too invested in things that didn’t always love her back. But here’s the real tea: She was never too much. She was just tuned into a frequency the world forgot how to hear. That quote by Jessica Michelle? “And while she never felt quite normal, she was nowhere near crazy. She just loved too much. Choosing to see the world through her heart, instead of her eyes.” Yeah—Trixie felt that one in her soul. That’s not poetry, baby. That’s a diagnosis for the beautiful hearts who refuse to go numb. The Curse and the Calling of Loving Too Much Loving too much isn’t a flaw. It’s not a red flag. It’s not something you need to water down so you can fit into someone else’s version of "manageable." Trixie tried that. Shrinking. Toning it down. Making herself easier to hold. You know what happened? She disappeared. And so one day,...

๐Ÿ’œ Dearly Beloved... A Trixie Soul Sermon on Life, Loss, and the Afterworld

๐Ÿ’œ Dearly Beloved... A Trixie Soul Sermon on Life, Loss, and the Afterworld Let’s pause for a second. Take a breath. Because this one? This one’s sacred. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life..." Whew. Prince wasn’t just singing. He was preaching. Sometimes, Trixie feels like she’s officiating her own daily memorial service for all the versions of herself she’s had to bury just to keep moving. Life Is the Electric Word Prince said it best: "Electric word, life." It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s ridiculous. It’s breathtaking. Some days it shocks you with joy. Other days it zaps the soul out of you. And the thing about electricity? It doesn’t ask permission. It moves. It charges. It changes everything it touches. Life is just like that. You don’t get to tiptoe through it. You either plug in and feel every spark—or live unplugged and wonder why nothing feels real. Forever Is a Mighty Long Time Trixie used to think forever mea...

๐Ÿ’ฅ “I’m Done Bending Over Backwards: Kind, Not a Doormat”

๐Ÿ’ฅ “I’m Done Bending Over Backwards: Kind, Not a Doormat” By Trixie Unfiltered™ Let’s make something real clear—because apparently, boundaries confuse people: I am a servant of God, not a servant of man. I love people. I show up. I give freely. But I will not be emotionally available on demand like some kind of spiritual DoorDash. My heart is not a help desk. And my soul is not on clearance. ๐ŸŽฏ What I’ve finally accepted: People will take everything you give and then still ask if you have more. And the truth is? I used to hand it over with a smile—even while silently falling apart. But I’ve grown. I’ve healed. I’ve seen that you can be Christlike without being chronically used. ๐Ÿ‘ Because let’s get this straight: Kindness is a fruit of the Spirit—not a free pass for people to disrespect you. Serving God is about obedience, not overextending yourself to please the loudest voices in the room. And just because I can help doesn’t mean I have to say yes to every need that isn’t mine to carr...

๐Ÿ’ซ “This Wasn’t the Plan (But It’s Still My Life)”

๐Ÿ’ซ “This Wasn’t the Plan (But It’s Still My Life)” By Trixie Unfiltered™ I had a plan. It was a good one too. You know… graduate on time, marry on schedule, raise decent humans, retire with dignity, and live out my days drinking coffee on a porch swing—not crying in the Walmart parking lot over expired dreams and lukewarm Chick-fil-A. But life had its own agenda. It came in like a wrecking ball—with no warning, no apology, and no concern for my vision board. ๐ŸŒ€ So what do you do when life refuses to go according to plan? 1. You look ahead… even when your heart wants to look back. Some days, it’s easier to stare at what was supposed to be than to walk forward into what could be. But God’s not in your regrets. He’s in your next step. ๐Ÿ“– “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” – Isaiah 43:18–19 2. You break up with the people pleaser inside of you. Let’s talk about it: Being kind is rooted in love. Being a people pleaser is rooted in fear. Kindne...

๐Ÿš— The Healing Power of a Road Trip

๐Ÿš— The Healing Power of a Road Trip A Trixie Unfiltered Reflection on Why You Deserve to Get in the Car and Go Listen, babe—sometimes the best kind of healing doesn’t come from a retreat in Bali or a five-star spa with cucumber water and strangers touching your face. Sometimes, it comes from a good old-fashioned road trip. And no, I’m not talking about a carefully curated influencer moment with matching luggage and a three-day itinerary. I mean the kind of road trip where you grab a hoodie, a bag of chips, a fully charged phone, and hit the highway with absolutely no expectations—just freedom and maybe a questionable motel reservation waiting on the other end. We all need a break. But here’s the truth: You don’t have to go far or spend big to feel like yourself again. Short vacations count. Little escapes matter. You don’t need Paris—you need peace. And peace might just be a two-hour drive and a gas station slushie away. Because what your soul craves isn’t fancy. It’s quiet...

๐Ÿ™ “The Mission Was Mine All Along” -When the Healing is the Love Story!

  ๐Ÿ™ “The Mission Was Mine All Along” -When the Healing is the Love Story! By Trixie Unfiltered There was a moment—quiet, late at night—when I sat with my heart wide open and whispered, “God… what if love isn’t coming the way I imagined?” And instead of the usual flood of panic or loneliness, something else came rushing in: Peace. Purpose. Power. Because maybe—just maybe-this whole time, I’ve been looking for someone to walk beside me, when God has been calling me to  stand alone. Not as a punishment. But as positioning. I’ve spent years being the safe place for others. The one people call when their world falls apart. The one who knows how to love people through trauma, through addiction, through silence. The one who prays behind the scenes, encourages without needing credit, and holds space for healing like it’s second nature. And for a long time, I thought that kind of love —the kind that saves, uplifts, pours out—would eventually be returned in the for...

๐ŸŒŸ Branson: The Geriatric Equivalent of Spring Break

๐ŸŒŸ Branson: The Geriatric Equivalent of Spring Break These seniors didn’t come to play. They came to SLAY. I rolled into Branson thinking I was gonna be the wild card. Turns out? I was underprepared for the sheer energy, choreography, and orthopedic confidence of these seasoned party professionals. Let me say it louder for the people in the balcony: SENIORS. DO. NOT. PLAY. --- ๐ŸŽฐ Early Bird Gets the Buzz Forget bottomless mimosas—these folks are living on black coffee, mint gum, and decades of don't give a damn. By 9:00 AM, they’ve hit the buffet, bought tickets to a matinee, and power-walked half a mall. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to find my sock and figure out if I left my charger at the motel. ๐Ÿ‘Ÿ Sequins, Sass, and Sensible Shoes Y’all. The FASHION. Bedazzled denim. Matching group T-shirts. Blouses that sparkle harder than Vegas on New Year’s. And don’t get me started on the footwear—those orthopedic sandals got more arch support than my last relationship. And honey—they DANCE....

✨ The Hardest Part Is Just Starting

✨ The Hardest Part Is Just Starting Because Tenacity Is My Middle Name (Well… Sorta) Let’s talk about that little monster that lives in our minds rent-free. Its name? Indecision. It whispers things like: “Now’s not the right time.” “What if you fail?” “Maybe you’re not ready.” And before you know it, you’ve talked yourself out of the very thing your soul is begging for. But here’s the gospel truth wrapped in glitter and grace: The hardest part isn’t doing the thing. It’s deciding to do the thing. That’s not just Trixie wisdom — that’s Amelia Freakin’ Earhart, the queen of flight and fearlessness, dropping gems from the cockpit. > “The most difficult thing is the decision to act; the rest is merely tenacity.” Whew. Let that one land. Once you’ve made the decision? You’ve already won half the battle. The rest? It’s just showing up. Sweating it out. Getting back up. Fixing your crown. Falling apart. Getting up again. Repeat. Tenacity doesn’t require a cape. It requires comm...

๐ŸŒธ “His Hand of Grace (and Probably a Side Eye Too)

๐ŸŒธ “His Hand of Grace (and Probably a Side Eye Too)” Because sometimes you don’t need a miracle—you just need to know He’s still holding your hand... while you’re ugly crying in the car. Listen, I had plans for today. Cute outfit, productive to-do list, maybe even a salad instead of carbs. (Okay, maybe not the salad, let’s not get carried away.) But then life said: “Plot twist!” And suddenly I was one spilled coffee away from flipping a table and yelling, “Fix it, Jesus!” like I was on a church reality show. Then I saw this: > “I prayed for God to reach into your life with His hand of grace to help you through all that you face.” – II Peter 1:2 HCSB And I paused mid-meltdown, mascara halfway down my face, Target bag in one hand, iced coffee in the other—and I felt it. Not judgment. Not shame. Just grace. The kind that wraps around you when you're halfway to crazy, wearing mismatched socks and talking to yourself in the car like you're hosting a podcast no one's listening...