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Hullo, friends.

Accepting help is hard.

I’m used to being the helper.

Then my little sister arrived after having driven one thousand miles with a gorgeous handmade mandala in the car, and a very simple question: How can I help?

That’s usually my line.

The transformations I’m sharing this week and next week happened largely because she was here. And I’m incredibly grateful for that.

Our story didn’t end when she left.

About a week ago, Allison told me she hadn’t stopped making changes to her own home since she returned.

While she was here, she opened cabinets and peeked into the pantry and saw some of the organizers in the townhome. She saw me taking chances with paint and committing to a style.

I told her she deserved nice things.

And something clicked for her.

She started thinking about what she wanted to change. She made a list. Then she implemented it.

When she recently showed me everything she’d accomplished, I was so excited. She had organized and improved her home, and I had proof of concept. Sharing inspires others to make changes.

I think sometimes we get so busy surviving that we forget to live. We stop dreaming, stop making changes.

And sometimes there’s an even deeper hidden belief: Who am I to want more than this?

Wanting your home to work better for you isn’t greedy.

Wanting it to feel beautiful isn’t frivolous.

Wanting to love where you live is a reasonable life goal. 😂

The Townhome Edit posts aren’t about perfection, but permission.

Permission to make your life easier.

Permission to make your surroundings feel more like you.

Permission to want beauty, organization, comfort, color, softness, or even a drawer that doesn’t attack when you open it.

Allison showed me that inspiration works both ways.

And sometimes, while someone helps us rebuild, they realize they’re allowed to change a few things too.

🩷 Nicole

I didn’t really know where to start until Allison arrived.

See, I knew the problem: I expected to see Kenna on the sofa.

Everything was the same, except there was a Kenna-shaped hole there instead.

I’d picked a color palette. I had a list of potential projects. The problem wasn’t vision.

The problem was grief. I struggled to function.

My neighbor, who’d also lost a child, told me she moved ten times before she finally found a place where she could breathe again.

I understood, but moving even one time wasn’t an option for me.

So I had to make this place work.

And because I didn’t want my sister worrying about me, along with the patio edit, I replaced the couch pillows and covers before she arrived, hoping it would help.

And it did help. A little. Also not nearly enough.

My ADHD came with a healthy dose of executive dysfunction. Get me started, I was okay. Body double? Even better. Disrupt my environment, and I could make change happen. Only, the overwhelm sometimes created a permanent pause.

Inspiration arrived in the form of the birthday present Allison made me. She creates beautiful mandalas through her craft business: Perfectly Imperfect Dot Creations.

I provided the color palette for inspiration. Allison created a gorgeous lotus-style mandala with mirrors and pearls integrated into the design.

As soon as we hung it up, I was ready to change the wall color.

When I first moved here, the main floor was painted Gray Mist.

After losing Kenna, the gray felt gloomy.

So we painted almost the entire main floor, minus the kitchen and powder room, in Marshmallow instead.

And because too much Marshmallow can make a place feel sterile, we painted the doors Iron Ore.

Then we rearranged the furniture. The result?

The entire room felt different, so my brain wasn't always searching for Kenna.

That mattered more than I expected.

Kenna's cardiologist sent us a big, beautiful peace lily that I set on the floor beside the fireplace.

Baby Kitty’s enthusiasm set up red flags.

And that’s how I discovered peace lilies and cats are not a combination I wanted to experiment with.

Perfect.

I had been home grieving for the emotional equivalent of five minutes, and immediately had a new problem to solve.

Sounds simple, but it had to be tall enough to deter the cat and wide enough to hold the plant. Oh, and I wanted it pretty and reasonably priced. For a month, I’d been stuck. What helped?

Allison told me she’d assemble the plant stand if it arrived before she left. And suddenly one was perfect. 😂

Could I have assembled it myself? Absolutely.

Did I need one more tiny project standing between me and solving the actual problem? Absolutely not.

Two days later, Allison built it while I made dinner, so the peace lily was safe and Baby Kitty was thwarted. 🎉

On my birthday, I found a pillar candle holder at pOpshelf for $1, added a candle, and officially made this my favorite little corner in the room.

I still have a whole list of changes for the near future. (Like every bit of existing lighting, since every single fixture is a different style. 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Some of the changes are on hold because my income hasn’t caught up with my ideas.

And some of the less expensive changes (like curtains) are on hold because installing them requires either:

I'll eventually acquire one of those things. 😂

I’m leaning toward the taller human because I have a real fear of falling off a tall ladder. I don’t land gracefully. I know this from previous falls that didn’t involve ladders or heights.

So no, this isn't an official AFTER. It's more like: Better Than Before.

And that’s okay because homes don't have finish lines.

They're supposed to evolve with us.

I'm trying to understand what I actually need from my home so that:

Sometimes changing the wall color really does help.

Not because Marshmallow paint cures grief.

(If only Lowe's carried that by the gallon.)

But because our environment affects us.

And when everything inside you feels uncertain, creating even one corner that feels peaceful can be surprisingly powerful.

This room will always hold memories of Kenna.

And now it carries memories with Allison too.

When I first came home without Kenna, I almost couldn't stand being here.

Now I can.

And for this phase of the Townhome Main Floor Edit, that’s enough.

The Phoenix Reset Challenge is your gentle reset system for rebuilding from burnout, heartbreak, overwhelm, or a season that changed you.

It’s here when:

With the Phoenix Reset Challenge, you stop spinning in overwhelm—and start rebuilding with calm, clarity, and momentum.

Check out the 300 Wishlist Wins from this post.

I hope it inspires you to start noticing your progress on your lists.

The Wishlist isn’t just about big, dreamy someday things. It’s also about the tiny upgrades, practical fixes, comfort items, and little quality-of-life shifts that make real life feel softer.