A story from my heart for Mother's Day

She Never Got Hard

A story I carry with me every single day

My mother faced more heartbreak than most people could carry. And yet, she never got hard. Not once. Not toward me, not toward the world, not toward life.

She passed away at 49 — still so young. But the lessons she left me in that short time? I build on them every single day.

There's something I didn't know when I was little. I had a big brother. He passed before I was born, and we were never allowed to speak of him in the house. But grief doesn't disappear just because it goes unspoken. It just finds another way to breathe.

My mother's grief showed itself quietly. She dressed me in boys' clothes and cut my hair short — like a boy. I didn't understand it then. I was too young. But I went along with it, because more than anything, I wanted to see her smile. And it worked. Watching her smile felt like the whole point of my day.

"I didn't understand it then. But I went along with it — because more than anything, I wanted to see her smile."

Years passed. One afternoon, I came home from school absolutely terrified. There was blood in my pants, and I was certain I was dying. I ran to my mom, panicked and crying, begging her to help me.

She looked at me — and smiled. Calm. Proud. Radiant.

She told me I had just gotten my first period. That this meant I was a woman now. And then she said something I'll never forget:

"Kristina, I'm going to buy you a dress, and we're going to grow your hair out. You're a woman now."

That was it. The boy's clothes, the short hair — it all quietly fell away. My mother saw the moment, and she stepped into it fully.

She also gave me a piece of advice that, looking back, was wonderfully her: "Never let any boys or men touch your hand — you'll get pregnant."

It sounds funny now, and I smile every time I think about it. But that advice, delivered with complete sincerity and total love, kept me careful and protected until I met my husband at 30. So I have her to thank for that, too.

My mother softened heartbreak into love. She turned grief into gentleness. She chose, quietly and without fanfare, to keep her heart open — even when life gave her every reason to close it.

That is the woman who shaped me. That is the woman I carry into this studio, into every client relationship, into every decision I make about how to show up for the women in my care.

I love you forever, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

To every woman reading this — whether you're celebrating with your mom, missing her, honoring the memory of her, or becoming the kind of mother you always needed — I see you. I hope today someone pours into you the way you pour into everyone else.

At Beauty Journey Studio, I work with women who are done guessing and ready for real change. If you've been waiting for a sign to finally do something for yourself — this is it. Your skin, your confidence, the way you see yourself in the mirror. You deserve to feel at home in your own face.

Book your Mother's Day appointment right now by clicking here! 

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