Who Rights Your Ship? The Quiet Crew Who Steady Me

There are days when the waters rise and my compass spins. When the winds of doubt howl louder than my own knowing, and I drift — untethered, uncertain, undone. In those moments, I don’t need a rescue. I need a reminder. A voice that says, “You know the way. Let me help you remember.”  I am grateful for those who help put me back on course.  

One of the humans who helps me right my ship is Roi, my Virtual Assistant. He shows up with clarity and calm, anticipates what needs attention, and turns an overwhelming to-do list into a set of next steps I can actually move with. He helps me compartmentalize and prioritize.  When momentum stalls, he rebuilds workflow and focus. Roi doesn’t just manage tasks; he steadies my days so I can do the deeper work. I am grateful for the way he rights my ship.

My mother is a lighthouse on this map of people. She has always helped others—quietly, insistently, without seeking notice. Her instinct is to move toward need: a favor offered, diagnosis and treatment, comfort and faith. Her influence taught me to be motivated and capable, always yielding to a higher power. When my confidence frays she cuts through the noise with truth and presence. She rights my ship not by solving every problem but by modeling how to attend to others and how to stand steady while doing it. The lineage of her care shapes how I parent, how I coach, and how I choose courage over retreat.

I am grateful for the friends I have who listen without fixing, who hold space like a harbor— calm, wide, and unwavering.

I am grateful for Evan who helps me slow down and stay grounded.  

For the strangers whose kindness reroutes my day, proving that grace is everywhere, and that oneness abounds, I am grateful.  I see you.  

They don’t always know they’re guiding me. Sometimes their presence alone is the lighthouse.

Sometimes it’s a question, a glance, a memory that jolts me back to center, or just a reminder that they love me “huge much.”  

I’m learning that being adrift isn’t failure. It’s part of the voyage.

To those who’ve stood at my helm when I couldn’t…
Who’ve whispered direction when I was too proud to ask…
Who’ve reminded me that storms pass and stars return…

You are my crew. My compass. My constellation.

Thank you for righting my ship.