Beyond Lemonade with Brandy Grace

 Going beyond survival mode is a huge step — but no one tells you it brings its own set of struggles. For a long time, I thought I was “out” of survival mode. I had a job. I paid my bills. I had a roof over my head. But looking back, I realize I was in something I now call functional survival . I could keep the lights on, but inside, I was still bracing for the next storm. I could smile in public, but my body was still living like danger was around every corner. My parents worked hard — and in their own way, they taught me to do the same. They taught me that if you want something in life, you work for it. They taught me that blood is loyalty. But no one ever showed me how to go beyond the grind of survival. No one taught me how to truly thrive . Thriving is a different skill set. It’s learning to let yourself feel joy without waiting for it to be snatched away. It’s building dreams bigger than your “just in case” plan. It’s letting yourself rest without guilt. I’m ...

 For a long time, I couldn’t stand the taste of lemons. They reminded me of seasons when life was nothing but sour — times when I was surviving abuse, fighting illness, or trying to figure out how to keep a roof over my children’s heads. Lemons tasted like loss back then. Like things I didn’t choose, but had to swallow anyway. But something shifted when I started my healing journey. I began to see that maybe lemons weren’t my enemy. Maybe they were my teachers. They taught me to embrace what was sharp and tangy — to let it wake me up instead of shut me down. I started experimenting in the kitchen of my life. Adding honey for sweetness — because I deserved that, too. Adding mint — because growth often comes quietly, where no one can see it. Now, resilience tastes like: 🍋 Lemons — because life is tangy, unpredictable, and full of flavor. 🍯 Honey — because even in hard seasons, I deserve sweetness. 🌿 Mint — because growth doesn’t have to shout to be real. I did...

 🌿 The Lemon Chef’s Favorite Affirmation I say it every morning in the mirror, before my day begins: “My pain was real. So is my power.” There was a time I couldn’t look myself in the eyes and say anything kind. Too many scars, too many memories that made me flinch. I had survived abuse that shattered my sense of safety. I had lived through nights of homelessness, wondering where my babies and I would sleep. I had faced illness that made my body feel like it was betraying me. For years, I let those moments define me. Every story I told myself started with my wounds. And then—one day—I decided I didn’t want to be just the sum of what happened to me. I started with this affirmation. At first, it felt impossible. My voice would catch on the word power . But I kept going. Morning after morning. And slowly, the truth of it sank in: I am not pretending the pain didn’t happen. I am simply refusing to let it be the only thing that tells my story. If you’ve forgotten who yo...

 There’s a moment in healing where something shifts. It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It’s like the first sip of lemonade on a summer day—cool, bright, and unexpected. For me, that moment didn’t happen in a perfect chapter of my life. It came after years of living in survival mode. After abuse that taught me to keep my head down. After nights of sleeping in my car. After days when I felt like I was just keeping my body moving while my soul stood still. One day, I sat with a cup of tea and realized… I was tired of only surviving. I was tired of waiting for the “right time” to be happy. I wanted more than a life where my heart was just beating. I wanted a life where it could sing again. That was my first sip. The moment I believed I was allowed to want joy again. Allowed to laugh without feeling guilty. Allowed to live like I was worthy of more than my pain. Here’s your reminder: 💛 You don’t need to wait for the perfect moment. 💛 You don’t need to have it all fig...

 Life didn’t just hand me lemons—it handed me storms. Thunder that rattled my bones. Rain that blurred my vision. Winds that stripped away the life I thought I was building. And still, I found the courage to step into the kitchen of my life. To put the kettle on. To reach for the mixing bowl. To start creating something new, even with shaky hands. In this kitchen, there’s no recipe for perfection. Only love, courage, and a pinch of stubborn hope. Some days, the batter comes out lumpy. Some days, the bread doesn’t rise. And some days, I taste something I didn’t think I’d ever get to—peace. Here’s what I know: ✨ You can’t control all the ingredients life gives you, but you can choose what you create with them. ✨ Even the bitter can become sweet with enough care, patience, and tenderness. ✨ Every batch, even the messy ones, teaches you something worth remembering. Maybe your kitchen is quiet right now. Maybe the sink is piled high with yesterday’s dishes. Or maybe, j...

  Zesty Spinach Chicken Spaghetti: A Simple Bowl of Sunshine Sometimes, healing looks like lighting a candle and diving into your shadow work. Other times? It looks like a quick spaghetti dish that reminds you life doesn’t have to be so heavy. This week, I opened my fridge to odds and ends—leftover chicken, a handful of spinach, half a box of spaghetti. And in true Beyond Lemonade fashion, I decided to turn what I had into something that nourished me body and soul. This isn’t just a recipe. It’s a reminder that we don’t have to wait for the perfect moment, the perfect pantry, or the perfect version of ourselves to make magic. We just have to show up—with what we have—and trust that a little lemon zest and a lot of heart go a long way. This Sunshine Noodle Bowl is light, bright, and full of feel-good fuel. Whether you're feeding your family, your inner child, or your healing self, this one’s for you. 🍋✨ Zesty Spinach Chicken Spaghetti (aka Sunshine Noodle Bowl) This light, b...

 I have slept in cars. I have lived in houses without heat. I have been offered “free rent” in exchange for my dignity. But one day, I decided my story wasn’t going to end there. Three turning points that changed everything: 1️⃣ Believing I deserved safety, even when I had nothing. 2️⃣ Saying no to unsafe shelter, no matter the cost. 3️⃣ Saving in tiny amounts — $5 at a time — and celebrating each step. 🌬 3-Minute Guided Meditation for Calling in a Safe Home Close your eyes. 💛 Picture yourself outside a home that feels like sanctuary. 💛 See the light in the windows, the door waiting for you. 💛 Walk inside. Smell something comforting. Hear quiet safety. 💛 Whisper: “I am worthy of safety. I am worthy of home.” 💛 Let your body believe it. Affirmation: Safety is my birthright, and I welcome it in all forms. #SoulPractices #HomelessToHomeowner #BeyondLemonade

 Some children never got to blow out candles. No balloons. No photos. No frosting-covered cheeks. But they were here. And they are loved. I’ve held the ache of miscarriage. I’ve held the silence after abortion. And I know — this grief never fully leaves. But we can hold it with tenderness. Three ways to honor the children with no birthday cakes: 1️⃣ Light a candle on the day they would have been born. Whisper their name. 2️⃣ Write them a letter. Tell them the things your heart still carries. 3️⃣ Plant something living. A bloom, a tree, a sprig of rosemary — let it grow in their honor. 🌬 3-Minute Guided Meditation for Holding Grief Close your eyes. 💛 Place your hands over your heart. 💛 Picture a warm, golden light in your palms — the essence of the child you’re honoring. 💛 See them smile at you, whole and safe. Whisper: “You are loved. You are remembered.” 💛 Watch the light float upward into the sky, becoming part of the sunrise — always with you, always free....

When healing felt impossible, these three daily rituals kept me grounded: 1️⃣ Morning Candle Lighting — Before the day begins, light a candle and whisper your intention for the day. Let the flame remind you of your inner light, even when life feels dark. 2️⃣ Letter to Your Younger Self — At night, write one sentence to the child you once were. Maybe it’s “You’re safe now” or “I’m proud of you.” Let this be a bridge of love across time. 3️⃣ Present-Moment Meal — Choose one meal to eat without a phone, TV, or distraction. Taste, smell, and notice every bite. Let food be medicine and presence be your prayer. BONUS: 3-Minute Guided Meditation Close your eyes. 💛 Take a deep breath in… hold for 4… exhale slowly. 💛 Imagine golden light pouring down from above, wrapping you like a warm blanket. 💛 See this light flowing into your chest, melting tension, and filling you with peace. 💛 With each breath, say silently: “I am safe. I am worthy. I am healing.” 💛 Stay here for a few moments. When ...

  🍋 Lavender Lemon Drop Cookies “A little sweetness for the healing season.” * These cookies are soft, floral, and zesty—just like the kind of love you give yourself when life asks you to slow down and savor something tender. Perfect for postpartum days, grief naps, or soul check-ins over tea. 🌿 Ingredients: 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened 1 cup sugar 1 large egg Zest of 2 lemons 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1½ teaspoons dried culinary lavender, lightly crushed 2½ cups all-purpose flour ½ teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon salt Optional: extra sugar for rolling, or lemon glaze for drizzling 🧡 Instructions: Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line your baking sheet with parchment. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg, lemon zest, lemon juice , and lavender. Let the scent lift your spirit. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Slowly add dry ingred...

  I believe healing is something we create in the kitchen of life. I’ve stood at stoves while grieving. Mixed biscuit dough with shaking hands. Whispered affirmations into simmering pots. My apron has caught more tears than napkins ever could. That’s why I’m the Lemon Chef. Not because I’m a culinary master—but because I’ve learned how to stir love into survival. How to make nourishment from the scraps. How to serve something sacred on the same plate that once held pain. In this space, I’ll share recipes, rituals, and stories that blend food with healing. Come cook with me—spirit first.

 Every chapter of my book ends with journal prompts—not because I love homework, but because I believe in the medicine of your own words. Here are three you can start with today: What did I survive that no one clapped for? What am I still carrying that isn’t mine to hold? If my pain had a voice, what would it say today? Take them to the page. Cry through them. Laugh if you need to. And when you’re ready, share your reflections with someone who honors your story. You are worthy of being witnessed—even by yourself.

 I gave up drinking lemonade years ago—and I didn’t even realize why. It was subconscious, almost sacred. Somewhere deep in my bones, I had rejected the “make lemonade” mindset that had followed me through every trauma. The pressure to sweeten my pain, to silence my story with a smile, to serve up sunshine in the middle of a storm. But I wasn’t here to make lemonade. I was here to heal. To grieve. To grow. To rebuild something so much richer than a drink. Beyond Lemonade is the life I’ve chosen to create—one rooted in resilience, sacred ritual, and raw honesty. This blog (like my podcast and book) is a space where survivors, moms, and soul-seekers can feel seen, held, and empowered. We’re not here to pretend. We’re here to rise. 🍋 Welcome to Beyond Lemonade . Let’s stir something real together.