\u201cDo you happen to know who owns and operates Haven Home Support?\u201d
\nNobody dared to breathe.
\nMom glanced nervously at me.
\nThen back at Grandma.<\/p>\n
Her smug smile had completely vanished.
\nGrandma pointed a gnarled, shaking finger right at me.
\n\u201cSarah does.\u201d<\/p>\n
Absolute, suffocating silence.
\nNot the awkward, polite silence from ten minutes ago.
\nThis was a heavy, deafening silence.
\nMy cousin literally stopped chewing his dinner roll mid-bite.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s hand was still awkwardly hovering near the fifty-dollar bill on the tablecloth.
\nMom stared at me as if Grandma had just loudly announced that I was a wanted fugitive living under an assumed identity.
\n\u201cWhat exactly do you mean, owns it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI mean she built it from the ground up,\u201d Grandma fired back. \u201cShe is the CEO. She runs the entire operation.\u201d
\nChloe very slowly turned her head toward me, her jaw dropping.
\n\u201cYou own Haven?\u201d
\nI just gave a tight nod.<\/p>\n
Marcus spoke up before I could even get another word out.
\n\u201cWait. Haven Home Support?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHe looked genuinely, completely shell-shocked.
\n\u201cSarah, our hospital\u2019s discharge coordination office works directly with your company.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom whipped her head toward him.
\n\u201cWhat did you just say?\u201d
\nMarcus turned to face his mother-in-law.
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t provide non-medical home care after our surgical patients are discharged. The families have to arrange that themselves. But Haven is one of the premier services people constantly rave about. I\u2019ve seen their corporate logo on dozens of my patients\u2019 discharge plans.\u201d
\nThen, he looked back at me, his eyes wide with newfound respect.<\/p>\n
\u201cI had absolutely no idea you were the founder of that company.\u201d
\nI offered a small, sad smile.
\n\u201cYou never asked, Marcus.\u201d
\nHe let out a sharp, breathless laugh, driven more by pure shock than humor.
\n\u201cNo. Apparently, not a single one of us did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom rapidly looked back and forth between Marcus and me, her brain short-circuiting.
\n\u201cBut\u2026 but you clean people\u2019s houses.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, Mom. I do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face pinched tight, as if she honestly believed that completely negated everything Marcus had just said.
\nGrandma shook her head in disgust.
\n\u201cShe also employs forty-six local people, Marilyn.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad practically launched out of his chair.
\n\u201cForty-six employees?!\u201d
\nI shot Grandma a helpless look.
\n\u201cYou swore you promised not to say anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI promised to keep my mouth shut while they were treating you like a human being,\u201d she retorted sharply. \u201cThat gentleman\u2019s agreement officially expired about five minutes ago.\u201d
\nA few of my cousins let out a shocked, genuine laugh.
\nThis time, I almost cracked a smile, too.<\/p>\n
Mom looked physically shaken to her core.
\n\u201cYou have forty-six people on your payroll?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cSince when?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot all at once, Mom.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that even mean?\u201d
\n\u201cIt means I started completely alone. Then I managed to hire one person. Then another. We scaled the business over time.\u201d
\nDad\u2019s brow was deeply furrowed.
\n\u201cDo you have an actual commercial office space?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cExactly how massive is this company?\u201d
\nI could feel my chest tightening with discomfort.
\nI desperately did not want this evening to devolve into yet another toxic measuring contest of worth.
\n\u201cDad, it\u2019s really not about how big the company is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grandma nodded in fierce agreement.
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\nShe turned her lethal glare back onto my parents.
\n\u201cThe only part that actually matters is that your daughter recognized a massive gap where vulnerable people needed desperate help, and she built something incredibly useful to serve them. She created dozens of stable jobs. She helps terrified, elderly people retain their dignity and stay in their own homes. She provides a lifeline to exhausted families who are completely drowning and don\u2019t know who the hell to trust.\u201d
\nMom looked at me again, her eyes searching frantically for an excuse.
\n\u201cWhy on earth didn\u2019t you tell us any of this?\u201d
\nThat single, wildly hypocritical question finally shattered the dam inside me.
\n\u201cI did tell you.\u201d
\nShe blinked rapidly.
\n\u201cNo, you absolutely did not.\u201d
\n\u201cI literally told you the day I hired my very first employee.\u201d
\nMom opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
\n\u201cI told you the day I signed the commercial lease and moved out of my apartment into an office.\u201d
\nHer eyes darted nervously away.
\n\u201cI told Dad the afternoon we secured our very first massive corporate contract with a regional senior living community.\u201d
\nDad stared guiltily down at his untouched mashed potatoes.
\n\u201cI told both of you the week we launched our partnership with the local veterans\u2019 affairs program.\u201d
\nNeither of them dared to make a sound.
\nI took a deep, shaky breath to steady my voice.
\n\u201cEvery single time I excitedly tried to talk to you about my career, one of you either dismissed it or aggressively changed the subject back to Chloe.\u201d
\nMom\u2019s voice wavered, losing all its previous venom.
\n\u201cI\u2026 I really don\u2019t remember that happening.\u201d
\n\u201cI do.\u201d
\nChloe had been sitting there in stunned silence for several minutes.
\nNow, she slowly set her wine glass down on the table.
\n\u201cI actually remember some of it.\u201d
\nMom whipped around toward her golden child, desperate for an ally.
\n\u201cChloe\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Mom. Stop.\u201d
\nMy older sister looked incredibly, bone-deep exhausted.
\n\u201cYou always did it.\u201d
\nMom stared at her in utter betrayal.
\nChloe kept going, her voice remarkably steady.
\n\u201cIf Sarah excitedly mentioned anything about work, you would immediately ask her why she wasn\u2019t applying for a \u2018normal\u2019 corporate office job. If she talked about expanding her team, you would loudly announce that she should have just gone back to grad school and gotten an MBA instead.\u201d
\n\u201cI was just trying to gently encourage her to aim higher!\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Mom. You were brutally comparing us.\u201d
\n\u201cI just wanted both of my beautiful daughters to be wildly successful!\u201d
\nChloe sadly shook her head.
\n\u201cNo. You only wanted us to be successful in the very narrow, specific ways that you could understand and brag to your friends about.\u201d
\nThose words landed like an anvil, hitting infinitely harder than anything I could have ever said myself.
\nMom went dead quiet.
\nThen, Marcus cleared his throat.
\n\u201cI\u2019m going to say something, and I really hope nobody takes this the wrong way.\u201d
\nHe looked directly across the table at me.
\n\u201cThere are brilliant, Ivy League-educated people roaming the halls of my hospital with massive, impressive titles who couldn\u2019t even dream of building what you\u2019ve built, Sarah.\u201d
\nMom\u2019s face contorted yet again.
\nFor a split second, I almost felt a pang of pity for her.
\nBecause that was the exact, devastating moment she realized that the one person at the table whose professional approval she worshipped most deeply respected the exact career she had spent years relentlessly mocking.
\nBut I was absolutely not going to let Marcus\u2019s validation become the shiny new yardstick for my self-worth, either.
\nSo, I politely shook my head at him.
\n\u201cMarcus, that\u2019s kind of the whole problem.\u201d
\nHe looked genuinely confused.
\n\u201cI sincerely appreciate what you just said. But scrubbing someone\u2019s toilet wouldn\u2019t make me any less of a worthy human being, even if Haven had completely failed and never grown past my own trunk.\u201d
\nNobody dared to interrupt me.
\n\u201cI personally scrubbed Mrs. Higgins\u2019s bathroom when I first launched this thing. She was nearly eighty years old and struggling to recover from a brutal surgery. She physically couldn\u2019t do it herself, and she was far too proud and embarrassed to beg for help. There was absolutely nothing shameful or pathetic about me getting on my hands and knees to help her retain her dignity.\u201d
\nI turned my gaze slowly toward my father.
\n\u201cAnd there is absolutely nothing shameful about holding a mop, Dad.\u201d
\nHis eyes instantly dropped in shame, locking onto the crumpled fifty-dollar bill still resting near my plate.
\nThe dining room remained suffocatingly quiet.
\nGrandma reached across the corner of the table and gave my hand a fierce, validating squeeze.
\nMom finally whispered, her voice cracking, \u201cI\u2026 I honestly didn\u2019t know.\u201d
\nI looked at her with zero sympathy left in the tank.
\n\u201cNo, Mom. You didn\u2019t.\u201d
\nShe waited for me to let her off the hook.
\nInstead, I finished the thought for her.
\n\u201cBecause you never once cared enough to ask.\u201d
\nThe vibe of the dinner never recovered after that confrontation.
\nPeople awkwardly tried to salvage it.
\nMy uncle loudly tried to restart the abandoned football debate.
\nThe toddlers started whining for pumpkin pie.
\nSomeone hastily started clearing the dinner plates.
\nBut the fundamental energy in the room had permanently shifted.
\nFor the first time in my entire existence, my family looked at me as though there were massive, awe-inspiring continents of my life that they
\nhad never even bothered to explore.
\nLater that evening, I was standing alone in the kitchen, quietly rinsing off a gravy ladle, when Chloe walked in.
\nShe leaned heavily against the granite island.
\n\u201cI am so incredibly sorry.\u201d
\nI shook my head without looking up.
\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t do it, Chloe.\u201d
\n\u201cBut I didn\u2019t step up and stop it, either.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were just a kid when the comparisons started.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m definitely not a kid anymore.\u201d
\nThat made me finally turn off the faucet and look at her.
\nHer eyes were red and swimming with tears.
\n\u201cDo you know what the absolute worst part was for me?\u201d she asked, her voice trembling.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI absolutely hated being the weapon she used against you.\u201d
\nI honestly hadn\u2019t expected that confession.
\nChloe crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
\n\u201cEvery single time Mom weaponized my life and said, \u2018Why can\u2019t you just be more like Chloe?\u2019 I knew you were going to look over at me and
\nwonder if I secretly agreed with her viciousness.\u201d
\n\u201cI never blamed you for her actions.\u201d
\n\u201cI know you didn\u2019t. But I should have found my spine and said something years ago.\u201d
\nI set the wet spoon down on a towel.
\n\u201cWe both got completely trapped inside the exact same stupid, toxic comparison trap. We were just stuck on different sides of the glass.\u201d
\nShe offered a weak, teary smile.
\n\u201cThat sounds exactly like a profound piece of wisdom Grandma would drop.\u201d
\nFrom the living room couch, Grandma yelled at the top of her lungs, \u201cI heard that, you two!\u201d
\nWe both burst into genuine laughter.
\nIt was the very first honest, unrestrained laugh I had managed to produce all evening.
\nMy mother did not come find me to apologize that night.
\nThat would have been far too clean and easy for her.
\nShe waited until the following Sunday afternoon to finally call my cell phone.
\nHer opening line wasn\u2019t \u201cI\u2019m deeply sorry.\u201d
\nIt was:
\n\u201cYou really embarrassed me in front of the whole family.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes and let my head fall back against my office chair.
\nThere it was. The classic pivot.
\n\u201cMom, you completely embarrassed yourself.\u201d
\n\u201cI am your mother!\u201d
\n\u201cI am well aware.\u201d
\n\u201cYou maliciously let everyone at that table believe I knew absolutely nothing about my own daughter\u2019s life.\u201d
\nI let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
\n\u201cMom, you didn\u2019t know anything about that massive part of my life.\u201d
\n\u201cOnly because you selfishly kept it a secret from me!\u201d
\n\u201cNo. Because every single time I happily brought it to you, you swatted it away and treated my passion like a pathetic phase I needed to
\noutgrow.\u201d
\nShe went dead quiet on the other end of the line.
\nThen, she quietly murmured, \u201cI just wanted more for you.\u201d
\nI sat up straight at my kitchen table.
\n\u201cMore than what, exactly?\u201d
\nShe couldn\u2019t muster an answer.
\n\u201cMore than running a highly successful, multi-million dollar business?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s not what I meant, Sarah.\u201d
\n\u201cMore than ensuring forty-six hardworking people can feed their families?\u201d
\n\u201cSarah, please.\u201d
\n\u201cMore than ensuring terrified, elderly people get to safely live out their final years in the homes they cherish?\u201d
\nHer voice tightened defensively.
\n\u201cI honestly didn\u2019t know it encompassed all of that.\u201d
\n\u201cThat is exactly my entire point, Mom.\u201d
\nDeafening silence.
\nI intentionally softened my tone, dialing back the venom.
\n\u201cYou heard the word \u2018cleaning\u2019 five years ago, and you instantly decided the rest of my life was totally irrelevant.\u201d
\nShe still didn\u2019t offer a real apology.
\nBut for the first time in thirty years, she didn\u2019t try to argue back, either.
\nDad showed up unannounced at my commercial office the following Tuesday.
\nHe walked through the glass doors at 10:00 a.m., clutching a cardboard tray with two Starbucks coffees, looking exactly like a lost tourist who
\nwasn\u2019t sure he was in the right building.
\nMaya was manning the front reception desk.
\nShe flashed him a warm, professional smile.
\n\u201cGood morning! How can I help you today, sir?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m\u2026 I\u2019m actually looking for Sarah.\u201d
\nI stepped out of my private corner office.
\nDad just stared blankly past my shoulder.
\nThere were massive dry-erase scheduling boards plastered across the walls, caregivers bustling in to restock their supply kits, a multi-line phone system constantly ringing, and dozens of glowing thank-you cards proudly pinned to a massive corkboard near the entrance.
\nOne card featured a Polaroid of an elderly man grinning ear-to-ear next to a birthday cake our staff had bought him.
\nAnother had shaky, cursive handwriting scrawled across the front:
\nTHANK YOU FOR GIVING MY MOM HER DIGNITY BACK.
\nDad stood there and read that specific card twice.
\n\u201cYou\u2026 you really built all of this?\u201d
\nI nodded slowly.
\n\u201cYes, Dad. I did.\u201d
\nHe wandered through the bustling office space like he was in a museum.
\nI formally introduced him to Maya.
\n\u201cDad, this is our Director of Operations.\u201d
\nDad looked thoroughly impressed.
\nMaya beamed with pride.
\n\u201cI was actually employee number one.\u201d
\nAfter she excused herself to take a call, Dad turned back to face me.
\n\u201cI honestly thought you still drove around and did most of the heavy cleaning yourself.\u201d
\n\u201cSometimes I still do.\u201d
\nHe looked completely baffled.
\n\u201cYou still clean toilets?\u201d
\n\u201cIf a family is in crisis, they desperately need immediate help, and that\u2019s the job right in front of me? Absolutely, yes.\u201d
\nThat raw admission seemed to impact him far more deeply than the fancy office or the massive staff roster.
\nHe slowly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his leather wallet.
\nThe crumpled fifty-dollar bill from Thanksgiving dinner was tucked carefully inside.
\nHe placed it flat on my desk.
\n\u201cI am so incredibly sorry, Sarah.\u201d
\nI just looked down at the money.
\nHe aggressively rubbed his temples, looking his age for the first time.
\n\u201cI honestly thought I was just making a goofy joke.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were making a joke, Dad.\u201d
\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean it was actually funny.\u201d
\n\u201cNo. It wasn\u2019t.\u201d
\nHe sank heavily into the guest chair across from my desk.
\n\u201cI think\u2026 I think I\u2019ve spent way too many years just sitting back and letting your mother dictate the narrative.\u201d
\nI waited for him to finish.
\n\u201cAnd sometimes,\u201d he confessed, his voice thick with regret, \u201cforcing a stupid laugh was just infinitely easier than finding the courage to tell
\nher she was dead wrong.\u201d
\nThat was easily the most profound, brutally honest thing my father had ever said to me in his entire life.
\n\u201cI was wrong, too,\u201d he whispered.
\nI reached out and picked up the crisp fifty-dollar bill.
\n\u201cYou know exactly what I\u2019m going to do with this?\u201d
\nHe looked terrified.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m keeping it.\u201d
\nDad flinched visibly.
\n\u201cTo keep as petty evidence?\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe.\u201d
\nHe let out a shaky, relieved laugh.
\nThen, his expression grew incredibly serious again.
\n\u201cI really am so fiercely proud of you, kiddo.\u201d
\nFor years, hearing those exact words would have meant absolutely everything to me.
\nThat Tuesday, they still carried weight.
\nBut they didn\u2019t magically fill a gaping, empty hole in my soul.
\nBecause somewhere along the agonizing journey of building Haven, I had learned how to stop leaving that hole empty, waiting for them to fill
\nit.
\n\u201cThank you, Dad,\u201d I said softly.
\nAnd for the first time, that was entirely enough.
\nMom\u2019s journey took a lot longer.
\nThree months after the disastrous dinner, she underwent a minor outpatient procedure to repair a torn rotator cuff and was strictly ordered not to lift anything heavier than a coffee mug for several weeks.
\nGrandma immediately called me.
\n\u201cYour mother needs serious help around the house.\u201d
\n\u201cShe has Dad there.\u201d
\n\u201cYour father nearly burned the house down trying to microwave soup yesterday.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah, that definitely sounds like Dad.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m dispatching Maya over there.\u201d
\n\u201cGrandma, no.\u201d
\n\u201cDo not ever argue with an eighty-two-year-old woman, Sarah. It\u2019s a massive waste of precious time.\u201d
\nMaya drove over to my parents\u2019 house twice that week.
\nShe tackled the mounting laundry.
\nShe swapped out the stale bedsheets.
\nShe meal-prepped a few healthy dinners.
\nShe deep-cleaned the master bathroom.
\nShe patiently helped Mom reorganize her vanity so she could safely manage her morning routine with only one good arm.
\nOn Friday evening, Mom finally swallowed her pride and called me.
\n\u201cI formally met Maya today.\u201d
\n\u201cYeah, I heard.\u201d
\n\u201cShe is a truly wonderful woman.\u201d
\n\u201cI know she is.\u201d
\nA long, heavy pause on the line.
\nThen:
\n\u201cI honestly thought your company was just a basic maid service.\u201d
\n\u201cIt is partly about cleaning, Mom.\u201d
\n\u201cNo. I mean\u2026 I naively assumed that was all it was.\u201d
\nI waited her out.
\nMom\u2019s voice grew impossibly small and fragile.
\n\u201cShe never once made me feel pathetic or helpless.\u201d
\nThat single sentence meant the world.
\nBecause that had been the entire foundational mission of the company from day one.
\nI instantly flashed back to Mrs. Higgins, standing mortified in front of that barren, embarrassing refrigerator all those years ago.
\n\u201cI\u2019m really glad to hear that, Mom.\u201d
\nMom let out a shuddering breath.
\n\u201cI owe you a massive, profound apology.\u201d
\nThis time, I didn\u2019t say a single word to make it easier for her.
\n\u201cI spent so much of my life obsessing over whether other people would respect your career choices, that I tragically became the one person
\nwho respected your life the least.\u201d
\nMy throat tightened painfully.
\nIt wasn\u2019t a flawless, cinematic apology.
\nThere is no magical combination of words that can instantly erase three decades of being aggressively belittled and made to feel tiny.
\nBut it was incredibly genuine.
\nAnd for the very first time in my life, she wasn\u2019t frantically trying to explain away what she meant.
\nShe was finally, painfully acknowledging the damage of what she had actually done.
\n\u201cI really wish you had been able to see me clearly a lot sooner,\u201d I told her honestly.
\n\u201cI desperately wish I had, too.\u201d
\nThe following Thanksgiving dinner was vastly different.
\nIt was much quieter, for starters. There were only thirteen of us gathered around the table that year.
\nGrandma loudly complained that the roasted turkey was far too dry.
\nDad aggressively insisted it was a complex culinary technique and was supposed to taste that way.
\nMarcus dryly informed him that serving poultry that tasted like seasoned cardboard was not medically required.
\nAnd Mom did something incredibly subtle that I picked up on almost immediately.
\nShe didn\u2019t pit us against each other.
\nNot a single time.
\nWhen my nosy aunt pried into how Chloe was handling her new promotion, Mom sat back and actually let Chloe answer the question herself.
\nWhen a cousin finally asked how Haven was doing, Mom didn\u2019t answer. She just smiled and looked right at me.
\n\u201cYou should ask Sarah all about it. It\u2019s her masterpiece.\u201d
\nSo, I proudly told them all about it.
\nNot because I was desperate to prove my worth to them anymore.
\nBut because, for the very first time, they were actually sitting there and genuinely listening.
\nThat crumpled fifty-dollar bill from the infamous Thanksgiving dinner still sits tucked away safely inside the top drawer of my corporate
\ndesk.
\nI could easily have blown it on lunch.
\nI could have shredded it and thrown it in the trash.
\nInstead, I intentionally kept it.
\nNot because I harbor some masochistic desire to remember being publicly humiliated.
\nI keep it locked in that drawer because it serves as a daily, tangible reminder of how terrifyingly easy it is for society to calculate a human being\u2019s worth based entirely on the physical tool in their hand, the uniform they wear, or the prestigious title stamped under their email signature.
\nMy mother looked at me and only saw a dirty mop.
\nShe completely failed to see the fierce, capable woman holding the handle.
\nFor the longest time, I genuinely believed the most agonizing part of my life was that my own family constantly underestimated my potential.
\nEventually, I reached a place of peace where I understood something infinitely more valuable.
\nTheir narrow, flawed opinion had never actually been the fuel that made my grueling work meaningful.
\nMrs. Higgins had known my worth from the very first humid afternoon I spent scrubbing her shower tiles.
\nGrandma Evelyn had known it the day she explicitly warned me that being highly useful and being superficially impressive were two vastly
\ndifferent things.
\nAnd somewhere along that incredibly exhausting, lonely, and beautiful journey, I had finally figured it out for myself, too.
\nSometimes, the absolute most critical, life-changing work happening in any given room is the exact work that nobody ever thinks is sexy
\nenough to brag about at a dinner party.
\nAnd sometimes, the quiet, resilient person that everyone else keeps arrogantly looking down on has already stopped waiting around for the
\nrest of the world to finally look up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cDo you happen to know who owns and operates Haven Home Support?\u201d Nobody dared to breathe. Mom glanced nervously at me. Then back at Grandma. Her smug… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1090","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-home"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1090","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1090"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1090\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1091,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1090\/revisions\/1091"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1090"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1090"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feel.resetalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1090"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}