I’ve often wondered what this idiom really means. It’s been said that it refers to someone who’s pretty on the outside but not on the inside but I’ve wondered what is it, really, that makes a person pretty? Is it possible that how we are on the inside – or that the potential of who we are to become – is part of what drives how we look on the outside? But what about people who are truly ugly inside regardless of a beautiful exterior. Then again, who’s to say what’s truly beautiful?

I’ve often wondered if people would help me as much if I was ugly, if they help me more now because I am skinny, what would happen if I got fat again, and things of that sort. Certainly not so if I was ugly towards them, but what if I wasn’t pretty to look at too? Would that matter? In today’s society at least, I definitely tend to think so and that makes me wary of asking for help. Are people helping for good or for good looks? Does it matter to you? I know it does to me.

Asking for help has always been hard for me, partially because I’m a woman and was raised to be no damsel in distress. Also because I’m a woman and there are certain expectations – no one wants a desperate girl in need of help. No one wants a girl who’s not pretty, who’s not smart – but not too smart, funny but not goofy, classy but not snooty…the list goes on and suddenly I sound like the Barbie movie that I have no interest in seeing. Funny though, I hear that it’s got some good underlying messages underneath its Petpo Bismol pink nailpolish. I don’t know, I haven’t seen it. I do know though, that I always feel like asking for help is the wrong question.

Why is that? I’m not sure entirely, but I do know a few things that are contributing factors. For one, if I ask for help, and it doesn’t work / whatever’s getting fixed isn’t fixable as per the person helping or more help is needed than expected, I seem ungrateful or demanding. I try very hard to be neither. If someone is helping and I find a way to fix things, or an alternative solution that may work better for me, or makes more sense, then I’m a bitch, people are sick of hearing me talk about it, think through it, process and learn myself instead of doing what they told me in the first place. Just ask my ex how he felt about the hot tub (he couldn’t fix it…I did, with help from lifelong friends and one of his friends whom I knew from town). I should have spent the extra $$ to winterize and deal with it later. I actually got my head bitten off about that more than once to just stop talking about it because he was sick of hearing it if I wasn’t going to take his advice anyway. Two things to know about me – 1. I rarely do what I am told. 2. His advice was wrong. #SorryNotSorry

That’s just a recent example, but there’s examples a million miles long throughout my life where I’m an ungrateful bitch, or I won’t do as told and how would I know better? Just because my father worked on cars, clearly as a woman I am a moron and can’t know what that means (wrong, Dad taught me well, and while I’m well out of hands-on practice, I’m pretty good at diagnosing shit and finding things like no, not an antifreeze leak, a fuel leak at the fuel coolant on the driver’s side rail…or rebuilding the 1980 sled motor 2x, by myself). I’m so sick of being told by men aged 18 – 80 that I’m no mechanic, what do I know? Well, I’m no fool, I’ll tell you that.

So, hey, easier to just not ask for help.

When I do ask for help, and offer to be there to assist, or watch and listen and learn, or keep you company, I’m “in the way.” I don’t need to be sitting there watching, men can work without me there. No reason I can’t just GTFO out of the garage and let the men do what they do best – dismiss me and tell me I can go. You know, the garage I own. In the house I bought. That has only one name on it…. mine. But hey, I’m a girl, what do I know?

I know that a few decades ago that wouldn’t even be possible – a house in a woman’s name with no man?!?! Oh *GASP*! The HORROR!

*eyeroll*

So, hey, easier to jut not ask for help.

I’m always skeptical when I do ask for help. Will it get done in time? Will it get done right? Am I allowed to help? Show thanks? Or is other stuff expected from me? I am a girl, after all. And then those times that I do actually do stuff myself, I get made fun of for being a “tough guy” or a “man-hater” or stupid for not letting a man do it I the first place.

You know how awesome it is to be told that if I just dated that person longer, he’d have “my whole place fixed up.” Uh, dude, you hung a pre-hung door with help from a friend to impress me. Wow. Hugely impressed. (To be fair, I’m not mad at anyone for that, only at myself for tolerating any of that rhetoric for more than a minute – I know better, and I damn sure deserve better.) That’s right, the rest of the shit around here I do (mostly) myself. I clean. I cook. I pay the bills. I manage the household. When the dryer clogged at the water lines intake and again inside the feed to the detergent, I opened it up and fixed it myself. When the tractor broke and round bales still needed to go to the horses, I pushed them out myself (sometimes with help too but more often on my own), and when that is too much, a neighbor was able to help me and I, in turn, help them out too. When I needed to get out of debt and a shitty farm situation, I found a place to rent that was a means to an end and did just what I set out to do. When I needed a new place with a somewhat spotty real estate history due to that shitty farm situation in NJ, I figured it out.

I am so sick of hearing that I should just let a man do it.

Does that mean I don’t ever need help? Oh hell no. There’s plenty of times I do, and I am damn sure that I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am today if it wasn’t for the help of many men – and women. That’s what friends are for. But it takes a while to get to where I trust you to help me. It takes a while to be a friend long enough that I know the offer of help isn’t to impress me. Yes yes, you’re a mechanic, carpenter, electrician, handyman, etc. all things I am not. I get that, I would hope you’re better at all of those things than I am. Just like I’d hope that I’m better than you at marketing strategy or consumer psychology or any number of other things I am good at. But shit, does that mean I have to be talked down to about the things I am not an expert at? Because for fuck’s sake, I’m a woman, not a lost god damned dog or an illiterate fool.

I often wonder if I wasn’t pretty, if people would still help me.

I work really hard to be beautiful on the inside, because that’s what really matters. I never saw myself as pretty anyway, and as they say, pretty is as pretty does.

I pulled out of the field in the campground I’d been going to with my horses for the past nearly two decades, the place where I grew up riding snowmobiles in winter. My steering wheel was crooked in my truck – the stabilizer is going bad and I had some issues with death wobble on the way up – and the truck was having turbo issues and as I drove slowly down the campground road on the way to the exit, I cried. I don’t know what hit me, but it was like the air was knocked out of me and I was just so overwhelmed. I had an idea of some of what was wrong with the truck, and I almost wanted to call my dad to talk to him about it and make a plan to work on it together when I was home. It was the first time in longer than I could remember – since long before he died – that calling him had even been a thought in my mind.

Lately it feels as if I’ve moved through the stage of grief where you’re angry or pushing through but where you’re finally just accepting things. I pushed through the awful memories and the hurt and fear and pain and all of the broken things I was because of my childhood and had dealt with most of that already, though I know some pieces will linger for years to come. What I didn’t expect was the recent nostalgia. That hit me in some ways even harder because it felt like I went from mourning the father who I could never be good enough for and never quite got things right, to slowly remembering little bits and pieces of the good times. Glimpses and glimmers of the past where my father inspired me, where we did fun things together like go to air shows, or where he taught me responsibility (I’ll buy the parts and work on your truck but you’re going to help me and learn how to do it yourself). And all of a sudden I was that teenager with a truck issue wanting to call her father for advice and man, that stung.

It stung not because of the memory. It stung more because I don’t know what experiences my siblings had and we don’t talk often about that stuff. Please, the past few years have been hard enough without rehashing the past as I was the most isolated from them growing up already. It stung even more because it made me mad that my father never had the chance to meet my kids – in those good memories I’m finding of him, Morgan and he would have a blast organizing the garage together and working on vehicles and I’d have loved to be a part of it. I should hang the old clipboard that Morgan found in my father’s garage from when I was his age with the list of all the repairs we did together on my old K-Blazer just for the laughs. I still have the end of the drive shaft where it hooks to the u-joint on my nightstand. Yeah, it stung because for so many years I forced these memories out and fought with the man that was still alive as if they were the same person. He always was a bit Jeckyl & Hyde.

I wonder how that makes me look to my siblings and at the same time wonder how different all of our experiences must have been. I wonder if things would have been different – but quickly move on knowing that the past is not something worth wishing to change. I wonder if my life actually sounds as crazy to others as it does to me, or if the way my brain can ricochet through a hundred different things and still store and organize thoughts and streams of consciousness like my computer can toggle files between memory and dropbox and google drive is normal to anyone other than me. And probably my father.

Sometimes I’m sitting here late at night, trying to wrap up work, not entirely tired despite sleeping like shit lately. Between my neck and shoulder and back issues, and who knows what, mornings have been extra super hard and if you know me, you know that’s really a struggle. Mornings are hard for me as it is most days. Getting out of bed can feel like the most overwhelming part of the entire day because I know that once I’m up, I have a million things to do, followed by a million more and if I just work harder, faster, smarter, do more, then I’ll have more time/money/freedom/insert whatever it is we’re striving for here.

Of course that’s not entirely true, but I’m manic so that’s what my brain tells me. Fortunately I know better. But add to that already-there almost every day performance anxiety of all that I need to do, massive neck pain triggering headaches and a feeling of wooziness / heavy headedness that lasts anywhere from one to a few hours in the morning and it makes them pretty much unbearable. My neck works its way out of whatever crick it is in eventually and then my day begins in earnest. By nightfall, I’m at my best, often doing my best work, having the most fun or, if my sense of accomplishment outweighs my sense of anxiety, I’ll simply sit on the porch swing or steps and look up at the stars.

Life is good here. Life is really good.

I often wonder when I’m stressed about finances and work, and growing the agency and travel and scheduling and being there for the kids and the animals, and sorting out priorities on what vehicle or farm equipment gets fixed first and when and how and why and how do I budget for it…..(and there you see a beautiful example of how fast my manic mind can run with things) how my life must look like to others.

My social will tell you I have it all balanced and am extremely grateful (I almost do, mostly I think and I always have a plan and yes, I am extremely grateful). Depending on my anxiety and where my brain is at in any given moment, I may also be fighting panic, considering selling everything and disappearing, or being totally completely content with everything in that moment. I’m all over the place and I’m all of those things, and more. I just don’t always know what that means.

I do know that I write. I always have, and expect I always will. It’s the best way I know to keep my thoughts sorted and quiet my brain. And then I take a step back from myself and take a look from the outside, in, while stopping to remember how amazing I perceive the lives of everyone around me to be and just think.

Could you imagine if we could see ourselves the way others see us as a means to help each other grow? How truly amazing the world could be looking from the inside outside in.

Some of the best meals I’ve ever had were from right around the corner. And I’m not talking 5* restaurant or Catskills-chic farm-to-table cliche that’s become so popular around here but rather the kind made by friends over a fire pit or a smoker or a grill a flattop at the campground. The kind made in crock pots and old ovens, seasoned with creativity and experiments and trial and error and a dash of laughter and good times. And I’m not kidding either – some of these meals made by me and my friends are better than you’ll find in any restaurant!

This week’s dining experience was an Independence Day pig roast with a 30# pig and two 10# (each!!!) pork shoulders slow roasted and smoked. Leftovers were then shredded and marinated in raw cider vinegar with some dry seasonings and left to soak. Heat up with BBQ sauce on the grill and toss over a salad for dinner or for the kids, grill alongside chopped kale and zucchini in garlic butter, then pile the pork, veggies, and a slice of melted cheddar cheese and a dash of added Sweet Baby Ray’s on top and mmmmm! I’m talking that kinda good. The day after was northern pico with local veggies – radishes, cucumber, arugula, celery, red cabbage and salsa – on the pork with a NY-made kombucha hot sauce in lettuce wraps. Also ahhhhhmazing! It’s fun and healthy, and I’ve really enjoyed it lately especially because I can be super creative without a ton of prep or effort or cleanup. Winning!

I’ve been fighting crippling panic attacks lately and I’m not sure why. I know I am under a lot of stress but I feel like it’s all stuff I can deal with, everything is going in the right direction, and while it’s not ideal, things ARE looking up. Work is improving steadily as is our professional reputation. My ability to work within and be a leader across my and other counties is something I am proud of, and being able to use things things to help build a better community and future for all is both inspiriting and work that I am grateful to be able to do. Ballots went out for the Sullivan County Partnership for Economic Development board and while it’s an unpaid volunteer position, I am really hoping I get it because I am invested in this local community in so many ways. And I am self-aware that these things are happening, there is still a lot of stress and pressure on me, and aware that these panic attacks are based on fears and not reality but for some reason I haven’t been able to stop them from coming.

It’s been debilitating some mornings and most nights. I wake up in 2-3h increments around the clock with 45+ min gaps where I can’t fall back asleep and whatever sleep I do get is crappy at most. In the morning I feel overwhelmed and start to panic and then freeze in fear, and partial exhaustion from crappy sleep, and try to go back to bed but instead I feel horribly guilty for not being more productive. I calm myself down and talk myself out of it while checking work emails and weather forecasts and making mental to-do lists of everything I need to get done before Morgan’s graduation party and then I still feel guilty when finally at 9am I drag myself out of bed, finished with whatever emails I can answer from my phone. I set aside work to feed the dogs and cats, clean the house, start laundry, do the farm chores, take the dogs and myself for a few mile walk (for all of our sanity’s sake!), and come back to shower, make coffee and a protein smoothie and then look at the time and see it’s nearly 11am and feel like I am so incredibly late for work and I haven’t even started my day yet (like somehow everything I’ve already done since 630am until that point doesn’t count).

I have these impossible standards for myself and I am not sure why. I am sure that’s what’s triggering some of these panic attacks. Now that I think of it, I did just have an incredible experience at the NY Air Show that brought back all good memories with my father. I validated some of them with my mother that yes, I had been to an air show as a child before my siblings were born or my sister was very young. I did remember a bunch of other good stuff too and that was cool so perhaps in some way this is connected to the healing from that? I do know that I have to stop and remind myself everything I’ve accomplished and still accomplish every day, even on the days it feels like I’m doing nothing because I know that I both need and deserve those things. I am learning these years to be kinder to myself and allow myself the same grace with which to grow as I so readily offer to others.

This summer is light years better than last summer. I am in a completely different place, with more confidence, fitness (despite still fighting to lose the last 10# from winter ugh!), and much more work than I’ve had in a long time. SO I am going out with friends tomorrow and not going to let myself feel guilty about it. I am going to stay in and do things around the house and farm to get ready for the party and for camping so that I feel accomplished in ways I enjoy in addition to work. And I am going to continue to drive things forward with new business and work here in Sullivan and planning ahead for August and September travel to Las Vegas and Crystal River again. I’m looking forward to all of it! Even better is knowing it’s going to keep getting better from here.

I think I am understanding better now the shifting of vibrations and elevating one’s self if you will. It’s harder than all these online courses and discussions make you believe on the surface. It’s comparable to the difference between a diet and a lifestyle change and understanding the motivators for you, yourself that drive those behaviors and give you the ability to better grow.

We are all powerful beings. Realizing the true depth and purpose of that power is both scary and liberating, as you learn how to use it for good.

I’ve always been a bit of a maverick, never quite fitting in while always fitting in with everyone not always knowing how to balance that. Oscillating between too much of a show-off to prove my worth, to drawing back and becoming seemingly too aloof, sometimes I’d talk too much, other times getting lost in my own world. This year though, I feel like I’m finally figuring it out, and I’m right where I belong.

I can’t remember being this comfortable with myself, this okay in my own skin – be it too dressed up, or dressed down, a little too pale to sunburned with the shadow of my braid over one shoulder and the angel wing given to me by one of my best friends sunned into the center of my chest, almost fittingly so.

I went to the NY Air Show today because a friend invited me and, well, just WOW.

WOW!

Mind blown. It was absolutely incredible in so many ways. I was a daddy’s girl, until I wasn’t and I don’t think until recently I ever realized that it wasn’t my fault that things changed. He had his own demons that took over him bit by bit and as a child I couldn’t see that coming or understand, and estranged at his death, he sadly never got the help to sort through it and I never had the chance to really talk to him about that again. But in the almost three years since he died, I think I’ve done all this hard work on myself to seek what I needed to truly understand. I think I understand now, and I mean it when I say I forgive him.

He used to talk to me about airplanes, some that I didn’t know that he worked on, or didn’t really understand. He’d tell me about the various projects at work when he could – he had high-level security clearance so there was a lot he couldn’t say. Bring your kid to work day meant pb&j in the parking lot on lunch break because we weren’t allowed inside the building. But when he could tell me stuff, he’d talk about some really cool projects.

He worked on several iterations of the chaparral missile and I think knowing that he built such lethal technology haunted him in ways. He worked on some really cool stuff. Technology to keep our country safe during the Reagan years and the Cold War. He worked on the Hubble Space Telescope for NASA during the Star Wars years (the stuff that worked haha not the stuff that didn’t). And nearing retirement, he worked on the Abrams tank, even getting to drive one once (he said he had no idea what he was doing it was hysterical!).

But his favorite projects he talked about were the Warthog, the Tomcat, and the Hornet. He talked about them frequently, especially the latter as he was one of the leads on that and it was a project he was involved in for several years. Today, I got to see two of those planes fly. Sure, the stuff he pioneered back then has long since been updated but it was pretty amazing to see my Dad’s work in the sky overhead. The Warthog was piloted by a woman (go girls! #WomenInAviation) and put on an absolutely impressive display! And then there were the F-18s.

Ahh the F-18s! We had pictures of these and many other jets wallpapered in our basement in the game room around the pool table. Some I took with me when we cleaned out the old house, but many got tossed. They were just prints of other people’s photos and posters and such, but the memories of some of those conversations I got to cherish even more so today when I saw those planes in action. When cleaning out the house, I found the original F-18 manuals, the ones that Maverick throws out in the beginning of Top Gun Maverick. Yeah, those. I have those (well some of those). Tucked inside one of them was the original 1977 cockpit diagram that my father and some of the other engineers worked on. My father’s signature is in the front of the book from when it was submitted for approval. He was a lead on the project. And I’ll tell you what, finding those brought back good memories, and seeing Top Gun Maverick last summer made me smile, but it also left me with a feeling of frustration and emptiness at all the conversations we never had since I was a little girl.

Today was different. It was better. It was amazing! I got to watch technology that my father helped with take to the skies, fly by in formations 18″ from each other at speeds over 400 mph (really!). Barrel rolls, inversions, dives, you name it they did it. Watching the other stunt pilots, and the Red Bull team were also really really cool! There was an old F-15 also that was really impressive also. But for me (and well for most people I am sure) the six  F/A-18 Super Hornets that are used by the Navy Blue Angels that are the current iteration of a jet my father worked on back in 1973-77 blew me away. Absolutely incredible!

What a magical day! To see that, and to then go see friends after to celebrate a friend’s graduation from High School with my kids, feel comfortable going from a corporate chalet at an air show to graduation party at a firehouse and still feel comfortable was great! I had a great time at both places, never once feeling out of place or like I needed to just fill the air with chatter to keep from letting my discomfort show. And now I get to sit in my happy place, at home on my porch swing in an old shirt and shorts and flip flops, listening to the Maverick soundtrack while sipping bourbon and watching the sunset with my dogs. Yeah, life is good. Really really good.

Thanks, Dad. I get it now. Wish you could have been there today, you would have loved it, and been so proud of me! And these kids too! I know you’re somewhere overhead looking down on us and smiling and I hope you’ve finally put those demons to rest. Fly like those Blue Angels, Dad, and I’ll keep dreaming as high as the sky, too.

Cheers, to summer, to friends, to family, to a life worth living and a place worth doing your best to be your best every single day. Don’t even let those demons get the better of you – any of you. We’re all worth more than that. You just have to believe in yourself and remember, the sky IS the limit.

You won’t find the real pieces of me on these pages, all rainbows and unicorns on social, hash-tagged with half-truths and satin moments wrapped up in smiles and a bow. No, even the glimpses of me that you see on here is nothing, really, if you want to truly understand me.

To understand me, you need to talk to me. Ask me how my day was. What I love. What I fear. What real fear is. What death looks like. The unimaginable pain of telling people you love their parent died. The unbelievable anguish of saying again, in that same year, because it happened again. The horror of watching your world crumble around you. The deafening silence of solitude for a summer when all the busyiness in the world can’t keep your demons at bay. The evolution of the world around you, and within you, as you move through trauma after trauma followed by grief and despair, while taxed with being strong enough to hold your loved ones around you together because you know you are needed, even if they pushed you away. And you know that someday they will understand and love you for what you have done even if in the moment it seemed like it was never enough, all the while being told you’re too much.

you are never too much.

No, you won’t learn more about me just by reading what I write here. You’ll need to really get to know me to know that. Yes, everything I write here is the truth. It’s honest and raw and real, and everything I am feeling in that moment. But if you want to go beyond that and know what I feel in my heart and my soul, on the things I hold closest to my heart, those words are not here.

I opened my journal tonight for the first time in a long time. Since February actually. And even before that there are pieces of my soul in there. It’s the only place I write names, and thoughts without concern for others because I know it is on that old worn paper that I can be even more true and honest with myself than I am anywhere else in the world. Anywhere else, perhaps, other than the porch swing where very few have sat and asked me the questions that really matter. And there, in the journal and on that porch swing, I promise you I will always speak the truth.

I always speak the truth – sometimes, however I’ve learned that you need to hold your truth close to your heart because people will hold it against you. Even the ones who tell you they love will hold it against you and in some cases, they’ll even hold yourself and what you’ve told them and who you are and your very own truths against you. They’ll use it as a reason to justify actions, reasons to not be around, telling you things that fit with their narrative and their story. But you’ll know better because through everything your truth has never wavered. You know where north is, after all. It’s not that hard to find if you can navigate by the stars the way people have for thousands of years. It’s quite simple, actually.

There’s chaos in her mind, or so it seems on the outside to anyone living without passion and truth and a compass pointing north and home. I opened the journal tonight to pieces of my heart on paper that I don’t share with others and smiled. Funny how this summer is your summer to struggle to find your place and your pace and your heart and your home while this time I get to step back and let you figure it out. I am very good at keeping my mouth shut and loving those whom I call family with open arms while letting them figure things out at their own pace, in their own time. I can love you from here. I can love you from anywhere, even when you are floundering to find your way trying to figure out what’s worth settling for and what’s worth waiting for and what’s worth fighting for.

Spoiler alert: there’s nothing worth settling for, you’ve been fighting your whole life, it’s high time you learned to pick your battles, put down your poison, and realizing that waiting for extraordinary is a whole lot easier when you’re striving for exceptional in yourself and your life every day. The rest? Well, you see, that just falls into place after all.

Don’t take my word for it. Try it for yourself sometime. You already hold pieces of me no one else can reach, as a friend and as family, in a friendship as old as time that time will always know. But I can’t make you great. I can only encourage you towards the greatness I see in you, the way did for me when I doubted myself all this time.

I don’t doubt myself anymore. Thank you. I wrote that in the journal, but I thought the world should know. That’s what family and friendship is, even when the everyday changes, when the time spent together changes, when the time we give each other changes, and the direction our lives go in changes. But you know what? That doesn’t really change anything, so long as we are all growing on our own paths and our own journeys, change is one of the most incredible things we can ever experience.

That, and love. I haven’t known that in that way quite yet, but I will. I needed to get the rest of me sorted first, and I have. And damn, it’s amazing.

I have a sign on my wall that says dream more, complain less, listen more, talk less, love more, argue less, hope more, fear less, relax more, worry less, believe more, doubt less, play more, work less.

And I’m trying to live by all of it. Especially the worry less, believe more part. I’ve gotten a lot better at that recently and I’m not entirely sure where it’s coming from but I am ever so grateful. It’s this calm sense of self and trust that I have felt help me grow tremendously in the past few months – really in this calendar year – and it’s quite a revelation.

I understand more than I ever have before, which, if you think about it, should be obvious. I mean, shouldn’t we all understand more today than we did yesterday and the day before that? I feel like that’s the nature of living – learning, growing, and becoming more every day. Life is not a competition. We all should want to succeed together, and there should be no basis of comparison between ourselves and anyone else. We should only be comparing ourselves to our prior versions of ourself so that we can continue to reflect, introspect, learn, and grow. An while all of this may seem so obvious to me now, I am also realizing that while the words are obvious, living in a place where those words are guiding our actions, emotions, and inner thoughts is something else entirely.

It may feel like this tremendous growth came out of nowhere, as if this sense of self-confidence that doesn’t need explanation or bravado just appeared, but I know that’s not the case. It came from years of hard work, the past few years for sure but mostly from last summer. Last spring – summer was incredibly hard for me, and even the fall wasn’t the greatest. I spent my birthday afternoon alone, mostly by choice, but with the weight of the world on my shoulders, or so it felt to me. I carried that burden all of last year, and almost carried it into this one, but then I realized I could simply set it down. The only burdens I need to carry are my own, and I only need to carry them if I am not willing to address them, see them for what they are, learn from them, and move on. And so, heading into 2023, I set them down.

I started to see some of it when in the fall, I had the good fortune of being “chosen.” I joke that I ain’t the peach anyone picks, then someone chose me and I thought it was fantastic. Flattering, sure. Fun? For the time being. A distraction from myself? Definitely. It’s always easier to push someone else to grow while still feeling stuck yourself because for the time being anyway, you can focus on someone who is stuck. A person whom you have knowledge and experience to share with as your growth has far outpaced their own even if at the moment you, yourself are stuck too. So in comparison, you’re already light years ahead of them and sharing your growth and learnings with them in the hopes they grow too is a blessing and a gift and one I am grateful to share and give part of myself for.

What I didn’t realize is that there’s more to it. It’s okay to not always be growing yourself. There is time for healing. Time for sitting. Time for just being. There’s also time for doing, changing, and yes of course, helping others. But it’s not okay to just settle for someone who picks you because you’re not used to being picked, or maybe you’re used to being picked but not in trusting that you’re worth it so you roll with whatever the best option in front of you is for the moment and work really really hard to convince yourself that it’s okay, you picked them too, even when you didn’t and never planned to in the first place. Perhaps that’s why it took some convincing. Perhaps that’s not it at all. We’re all different. But what I did learn was that it’s important that you know that you’re a gift, that who you give your time and attention and affection to is a gift, too. And that not every gift needs to be reciprocated or reciprocal.

I am so happy with the direction my life is heading, and I am also happy with where it is right now. I’ve learned to stop worrying about the day to day and just DO what needs doing. Don’t be wasteful or foolish, but don’t be stressed and worrying all the time. Focus on what you can. Keep your chin up. Be positive. Allow yourself grace. Spend time where and how you want it while still respecting your responsibilities and boundaries and needs and those who rely on you and allow yourself to rely on others some too, and believe more and things will all come together.

I know this may sound cryptic or as if I am talking in circles but here’s the beauty of it – it all makes perfect sense to me and that’s what matters. The more I can grow and the better I can be, the better of a life I can build for myself and my loved ones, the more abundance I can welcome into my life, to share with those around me, to help us all together make the world a better place. Life really is beautiful. Thank you. I can’t wait to see what’s to come, but also I can wait because I love being right here and appreciating today for everything it is, also. Be kind to yourself. You’re an amazing person. I know, because I am too. We all are.

So smile more.
Say hi to that stranger.
Pay it forward.
Stop and smell the roses.
Breathe.
REALLY breathe.
Feel the air on your skin.
Smell the flowers (or sneeze at the pollen).
Pet a cat.
Walk a dog.
Ride a horse.
Go for a hike.
Accomplish something tangible today, even if that’s smiling at yourself in the mirror, that’s something.
Believe in yourself.
Understand more today than you did yesterday.

Dream.

Fight for it. Whatever it is. Whatever makes a difference. Because I’ll tell you the things I’ve seen in the past week have made me want to find a way to be able to fight for our youth in ways I never even comprehended before. When there are teens actively asking for and seeking help, their families right beside them, asking for support, turning to the very people who are supposed to help us – to be continually cast aside – where do we go from here?

We wonder why there are more school shootings than ever, more violence than ever, more addiction and drug abuse issues than ever, but have we ever stopped to consider why? Perhaps what we need aren’t more laws and regulations. All that does is the same thing we keep telling our youth. Don’t do that it’s bad. Don’t do that or you’ll be in trouble. That hurts, that’s stupid, that’s illegal, that’s awful. How about we look to the root of the problem?

Do you know anyone who has turned to heroin or other drugs because they had a great life (and knew how to love themselves on the inside)? Know anyone who shot up a school out of good intentions? How about someone who cut because they were making the world a better place? No? Me either. You know why? Because these things do not exist. What does exist, however, is a world full of throwaway girls and angst-ridden boys with unrealistic expectations being taught what they should or shouldn’t do because someone said so. The law said so. Their idols said so. That influencer said so.

Who the fuck cares? I know I don’t. I don’t care who says what where when why or how. I care about ME. I care about MY choices. I care about what’s MY responsibility.

You are not your trauma. Your trauma is not your fault. Your healing – and your happiness – absolutely is your responsibility. It’s about damn time we do something about it, together.

How can we expect our kids to know better, do better, or be better when all we do is police them? We police society and look to cure evil and anger and hatred with laws and regulations. Does taking away our guns keep people from getting killed? I don’t know. Maybe. But does it make the kids (and adults) acting out any healthier? Are we doing anything to fix the ACTUAL problem? The human problem? The problem that makes our children hate themselves, and cut themselves, and never feel good enough? The problem that makes picking up a gun and shooting innocent people feel glorifying rather than horrifying? The problem that makes us forget the joy and grace we get from helping others? The problem that makes our society riddled with death and despair want to act out instead of help each other? Because as far as I can see, the answer to all of that is no.

This week alone I’ve witnessed two parents (one of them myself) be questioned by CPS for the very same things we brought our kids in for help for. Yesterday I witnessed a CPS worker degrade a 16 year old girl by measuring her cuts. As if the simple fact of her repeated cutting wasn’t enough to alarm any caring intelligent adult that this girl clearly suffered from self-esteem issues, in the name of “protecting her” a representative for an organization named Child Protection Services actually inflicted damage on three children simultaneously while asking that child about her cuts in a shared hospital room with two other girls suffering from trauma, with nothing but a curtain in between them. It was, in a word, mortifying. The own mother felt so cornered at what to do and how to even say something to the perceived authority she also froze in fear.

I spoke up. I don’t care. I will NOT ever sit by and watch or listen someone damage our youth under the guise of best intentions and to hell with whatever policy or belief gave that person the so-called authority to act in that way. I hope some day you feel the same shame and embarrassment you unleashed on that child who was in the ER waiting for psych help…for the fourth time. How fucking dare you.

Just when did we forget what the word empathy meant? When did being an empath become more important than acting with empathy? Great some Facebook quiz said you’re an empath and that’s why you overthink and are the way you are. Here’s a novel idea. How about you learn to act with empathy and do something to change other’s lives for the better? When did personal responsibility go out the window? What makes you think that forcing medications on a teen (even your own in your own home) and forcing them to be drug tested or nicotine tested or whatever tested regularly under the constant threat of being punished will teach our children anything BUT that they are not trustworthy?

If we can’t teach our kids to trust themselves, how can we expect them to trust us? Society? Others? Anyone?

Why not teach them to care about themselves first? What about teaching them that they and only they have the power to choose their future? Their lives? What does and doesn’t happen to their bodies? Their minds? Their souls? Why is this everyone else’s responsibility? Why are we so reluctant to give them the power over themselves?

The best thing we can do for the younger generations is teach them to be empowered to write their own future. And the only way we can do that is to show them we care, we trust them, and we love them. Give them the tools and the freedom to make the right choices, and learn from the wrong ones they will at times, inevitably make. Let them succeed. Let them fall down. Let them stumble, and rise. Help them up – but not always. Teach them they can do it themselves, but that they also don’t have to. Teach them to help the weakling, the odd ball, the special needs child, but also to help the kid who seems to have it all together with the perfect family and the perfect life because hey. You never know. You never, ever know. Ask me how I know – and I only know my life and what I lived through.

I met some incredible people this week. Nurses, techs, doctors, and staff all overworked but still caring. Exhausted, making mistakes, but still trying. Aside from perhaps that awful woman from CPS, everyone was very clearly doing the best they could with the information they had and likely not enough pay, sleep, or support. Let’s fix THAT. Let’s fix the society that’s focused on asking our children whose fault it is, why they cut, why they are weak, sad, broken, and afraid. How about we instead we ask our children how do you feel, what do you want? What’s your choice, your life, your dreams, your goals? How about we work together to get them there.

Because you know what? Laws don’t stop mass shootings. Taking away guns doesn’t make people happier or healthier. Holding kids for a week in an over-full ER waiting for psych help because every single location across the state is full and we have nothing in our county at all for adolescents doesn’t fix mental health. All those things do is slap another band aid on the symptom that leaves everyone sending thoughts & prayers, and screaming about reform on social to the point of nauseating bullshit background noise that does absolutely nothing.

You want change? Go sit in an ER for a week and listen to the children asking for help getting turned away. Go talk to someone who never got help and is now a drug-addicted adult who can’t seem to kick the habit no matter how awful they feel about themselves. Talk to someone who lived through suicide attempts and hell. Find out what makes them tick, what makes them broken, and let’s put this life back together. We’re failing not only our youth, but we’re failing each other. I get to see it up close and personal every single day, and you know what? It makes me sick.

So fight. Stop fighting each other, our politicians, our government, our enemies, and our friends. Stop all of that. Fight for US.

How about we start talking? Being honest. Authentic. Real. Talking about why we skew towards violence, or self-harm? Why do we idolize people behind a computer screen while being too afraid to even stand up for ourselves and our children? What made us so afraid to speak out when we see injustice right in front of us? I’m not talking about race or religion or gender or sexual preference. I don’t give two shits about that. I’m talking about just being a basic, good human being? When did that become so hard?

In a society that’s been so mangled and perverse, let’s stop and not just smell the roses, but talk to the person next to us. Do me a favor. Tomorrow, when you see something someone does / wears / says / looks that makes you smile, tell them. Smile at that stranger. Say hello, how are you and stop to listen when someone responds. Maybe all they needed today was to be heard. Guess what? Listening is free. So is showing empathy, or paying someone a compliment, or just simply stopping and appreciating everything around you. So do that, please? Our society needs you, and our youth is following our lead and right now, they’re dying because we are so busy fighting each other we can’t stop long enough to do anything more than fight about laws to even see that we could fix so much more with love.

Stop fighting darkness with red tape. How about we stop fighting all together and instead just start caring for one another and see where that gets us when we all learn that no one has control of our lives but us and it’s about damn time we start living them in a way that matters.

I’m coming home. I know my kingdom awaits, and they’ve forgiven my mistakes. Tell the world I’m coming home.

Maybe home isn’t a place. I keep looking for it like it’s my Neverland, my Narnia, my Hogwarts, or Deadwood, but maybe what I’m looking for is so much more. Maybe it’s right here. Or there. Or somewhere inside of me that’s so much more.

I say so much of life isn’t personal, and you say all of life is. Maybe we’re both right. There is no risk if you’re honest. The only risk is in not taking risks, but if we’re honest with ourselves there are no risks at all.

If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? I’d go home. Part of me says Deadwood because in the short time I was there I felt more at home than I have in so many lives. But it’s more than that. I don’t want to sit still. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to stay anywhere. I want roots, sure, and I have them now. But I want someone to share those roots with and someone who will go see the far corners of this earth with me, too. While still always coming home. Wherever that may be, because home is right here with me.

I love this. All of it. I am back out in my element networking to the point of exhaustion in all the best ways, already planning the next trip, the next conference, the next expo and I can’t wait. It’s okay it’s in Vegas even if it’s not my favorite place because it still means I am back doing what I love and what I’m good at – connecting great brands with great people. Though if we’re being honest, it’s so much more than that too.

I don’t know what’s going on this week. Good things. Bad things. Death. Life. It’s always something, but that is life, right? The ups and downs we can’t control. What we can control is what we make of them, and I am so grateful to be going through all of this with some pretty incredible people. Thank you, all of you.

What now? We go home.

It’s funny what lies just beneath the surface, simmering, bubbling, brewing ever so quietly waiting to make an appearance until the timing is just right. It’s funny what you’ll hear if you listen. It’s interesting to me how, by simply talking a lot, people assume you don’t listen well. Distraction. Deflection. Diversion. All tactics people use to throw you off your game, win you over, convince you that the reality they’re showing you is the reality they truly are but no, don’t believe that. That’s not it. That’s not truth. Trust your gut. That is where the truth lies.

Your gut won’t lie to you. You just need to learn to listen and decipher the difference between self-doubt, insecurity, and fear from the trueness that comes with self-awareness of the good and the bad, and knowing the difference between what your gut is telling you and what you think you see in front of your very eyes.

Perception is everything – but is it really?

I just finished rewatching The Hunger Games in all its brilliance. I identify with Katniss Everdeen in much the same way I relate to Joan of Arc, and so many other defiant women in history. Not just women – individuals who couldn’t be silenced. Who didn’t do what they were told. Who didn’t listen to what people pretended to be, even when they’d look them in the eye telling their lies. You see, that’s because so often the people telling you who they really are, are so busy telling you because they have to do that to keep the lie alive to themselves. They are lying to themselves, after all.

Change doesn’t come from outside forces. Saying you stopped saying “that word” because I disapprove is like a child saying I’m sorry only because they got caught. Saying I changed because I didn’t realize how I spoke / acted / behaved was derogatory / closed-minded / petty / insecure – now that is something I will always respect.

Respect is earned, not won. You don’t win respect out of fear. That’s simply cowardice hiding behind intimidation to make the coward appear stronger to their foes. That’s not respect – not even close. Respect comes from calm confidence, security, knowledge, and trust. Confidence in your ability to choose between right and wrong beyond “what you were told” or “how you grew up” but rather is based on real world experiences, skills, conversations, and firsthand knowledge. Security in knowing that your word is your bond, your truth is the same inside and out (and never based on what makes you look better to others), and that discomfort is simply the opportunity to learn and grow and something to be explored, not ignored. Through all of those things comes knowledge, and through that with all the rest is where you will find trust.

Trust in yourself first and foremost, then trust in those around you, and even trust in your enemies because when you know people and understand people you will learn that everyone – even the liar – wants to be trusted. And if you truly listen, you’ll realize that even the liar will tell you who they really are. Not everyone uses words. Actions speak volumes too. So do facial expressions, inaction, indecisiveness, excuses, and even petty repetitive behaviors.

Listen. Just listen.

Everyone will always tell you their truth if you listen. Take President Snow, for example. He was many things, but he was not a liar and it was his own truths that allowed Katniss to trust his actions and reactions, and understand the difference between him and President Coin, even at times understanding she could also trust his words. What truths are those around you telling you?

I’m not just talking about the whispers you hear when you show up alone at the bar for the first time in a few months, or the stories told to/for/about/around you. No, I’m not concerned with the petty gossip of small town drama and mediocre minds. I know who I am, I don’t need anyone around me to tell me. I’ve spent 46 years on this planet becoming who I am today and I’m damn proud of it. If it intimidates you, then I’d say you probably need to do something about that within yourself. No amount of external talk, work, news, excuses, or even actions are going to do anything to quell those challenges in any way whatsoever unless you’re just looking for an excuse to stay home and drink. Sure, in that case, have at it.

I do, however, always listen. I talk a lot and a lot of people assume that means I don’t listen because I’m too busy chattering away. I’ll tell you I hear everything…and then some. I notice everything. The way he glances slightly up and to the left when trying to recall something farther back in memory than a few years ago. The way she fidgets with the watch on her wrist even though she has nowhere else to be and isn’t really checking the time. The way his eyes follow her movements as if she’s a prize to be won over or a tasty treat for the hungry wolfpack out on the prowl for the night’s festivities.

I listen to the older gent at the bar who has more memories than I have time to forget. I listen to the bartender chatting with the couple at the end from out of town. I know that out of the corner of my eye slightly behind my left shoulder someone is messing with the jukebox and someone else is racking balls on the table for the next game of pool.

I listen because I learn. I learn who people really are. I know who will say what to me and why, what transactional data is being exchanged – is it gossip? time? affection? attention? a chance at a moment alone? the opportunity to make an impression? the moment to boost one’s own ego with tidbits of information? what’s in it for them? what’s in it for me? what do THEY think is in it for me?

And then I walk away.

From all of it.

But I don’t forget any of it. Not even for a second. It’s all stored there, so that whenever the next thing happens, whenever I need to protect myself and the ones I love, I already have all of the information on who to trust, who trusts themselves, and who’s so busy proving to the whole world they’re doing great to know that they are anything but.

It’s amazing what you can hear just underneath the surface. People love to tell their secrets. It’s ironic really, how the whole purpose of a secret is to tell someone something they are never to repeat, but it’s the act of repeating it – or even just saying it in the first place – that makes it the most valuable currency of all. Even a large part of President Snow’s undoing was due in part to people knowing his secrets.

Oh, make no mistakes, there are skeletons in my closet. And yes, yes I know I’ve told you all a million times before (here at least) that I tend to throw them out in the street. They’re great props for scaring people away, pushing them aside, or convincing them that I am something scary. I’m not scary. I’m intimidating. But only if you don’t have your own sense of self confidence and self trust. Figure it out. I did. And learn the difference.

I have no secrets. Ask me any question and I’ll always answer you honestly – no matter whether you’re my friend or otherwise. I don’t believe in enemies. I don’t have time or patience for those, at least not this life. Perhaps there are still some stragglers back from Deadwood, and other places I’ve lived, but not this life, not here. Not now.

It’s a lot harder for someone to use you against yourself when you have no secrets and start with being truly honest with yourself – and always answer honestly whenever anyone asks you, especially about your past.

I’ve been a monster. A lover. A fighter. A victim. A warrior. A leader. A follower. A tyrant. An antagonist. A protagonist. A coward. A hero. I’ve been many things – we all have – and the sooner we admit everything we are today is a culmination of everything we’ve done, the sooner we can all learn to grow together and overlook our differences in our skin color, religion, sexual orientation, how we dress, and who we choose to live life with and instead start to look at people for who they are in their soul.

Some of the ugliest souls come with beautiful exteriors. Sometimes the hometown boy is really the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Sometimes the girl next door is really listening to the conversations just beneath the surface and already knows the truth. She’s just asking you to give you the opportunity to be honest with yourself.

Everything is replaceable in life in some way. People. Friends. Homes. Jobs. Conversations. Entertainment. Pets. Cars. On some level, if you really think about it, everything is in some way replaceable. Perhaps not exactly so, but on some level when life leaves us with spaces to fill, we find ways to fill them in whatever way makes sense for us at the time. We can fill silence with laughter, loneliness with distractions, things with other things, stuff with more stuff, and at the end of the day even if something or someone feels irreplaceable, if they leave, we find ways to replace them.

I am replaceable. I make no mistake and tell myself no lies. We all are. That’s why when you find those very few people in life that are truly irreplaceable, you do everything you can to hold onto them. Wraparound hugs. All night laughter. Porch swing whiskey. Camping in the mountains. Family dinners. Hikes to nowhere. Old friends. New friends. Family made and found.

Hold on to those things because those are the things that are truly irreplaceable.

Life is what you make of it, and I choose to make the best every day that I can. Every day that I am here. And I am grateful for all of them.

I’ve been talking about running away for a long time now. Going somewhere different, over 5 years in this place and I’m itching to move. But I have roots here and that makes me happy. Friends and family are different here. Not the kind that say will stick around but don’t, no. These are friends for a lifetime. Lifetimes, really if we’re being honest, because that’s the truth. I’ve been happier these past few weeks than I’ve been in a long time – certainly more so than I was last summer, or even last fall. I spent my birthday mostly alone, by choice, promising myself it would be the start of change and the beginning of a new year and it was and has been in every sense you can imagine.

Work is getting better, busier. Family is closer (sometimes figuratively rather than literally because the world is a thing and we live all over it, but that’s not the point). Friends abound. We laugh so hard our abs hurt, watching videos of ourselves from the night/week/month/years before and laugh all over again. There’s magic there in that. There’s magic everywhere if you just stop long enough to see it and believe. Always believe.

Things are bubbling just beneath the surface, I can feel it. I’ve said that before but it’s different this time. I’ve said that before too, but it is. I don’t know how to describe it, but each time I feel this, it’s as if things are getting stronger, closer, one moment closer to the next and the next and whatever is just over the horizon promising to be everything I ever hoped for.

I’m too much for most people. I’ve been told that all my life. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I used to falter between being too much and not enough all at the same time, trying ever so hard to just become nothing (and for a long time I succeeded), only to realize that I was more than that. So much more. I wasn’t too much, nor not enough. I wasn’t nothing either. I was everything else. I was, simply put, everything. I just haven’t met the person who I am everything to quite yet.

And that’s okay. Sometimes you have to try different things on for size. Test drive the car. Go somewhere different. Step outside of your comfort zone and see how things are from a different point of view, Captain.

I will always push my comfort zone. Life is pretty boring when you live in complacency. It’s an awful lot like commonplace or mundane, and far too close for comfort to be anything close to comfortable for me. We grow through change, different perspectives, new experiences, unexpected turns of events, and well, wishing on stars.

Yeah, things are different now. They’ll be different tomorrow, and the day after that. They’ll be different the day after that, too. That’s what makes life so amazing – all the differences and how every day is a new beginning to whatever story we’re writing where the ending isn’t written yet. Each day is a blank slate to write into your story whatever it is that you believe you deserve and all the things you expect to happen. Us humans have so much more control over our own destiny and decisions than we give ourselves credit for. We have the ability to write our own futures, yet so many of us go through life expecting the worst and then being semi-surprised when that is what ends up happening. I mean, really, what else did we expect when the narrative we tell ourselves is worry and anxiousness and challenges and strife? Here’s a thought – think positive and start each day writing your story to be better and you know what? It will be. Ask me how I know.

I’m doing that every day. I’m working on my book – though to be fair I haven’t in the past few weeks I had a bit of a writer’s block while sorting through things in my head. But now finally after a few weeks of that, I’m back to being me again. Going to Florida helped. Coming home helped even more. And the past two weeks brought me back to being me in a way I didn’t realize I had missed. Don’t turn your volume down to fit in – ever. Stop quieting your voice, playing up your style while downplaying your passion to be what people look for you to be. No. Stop that. I did that and I didn’t realize just how much I missed me until this past week.

Man, I really missed me. A lot.

I want to be surrounded by people who laugh like I do. Love like I do. Suck the marrow out of life and live with passion and wild abandon the way I do. Yes, life has its stressors and we all have “adulting” to do to make our way with the comforts life tells us are good and necessary. But none of that requires taking the safe option or the quiet backroads instead of flying on a jet plane to the farthest reaches of your imagination where dreams come true.

Dreams come true, you know, you just have to keep dreaming them. Even when other people tell you you’re too crazy, too wild, too different…too much.

If you’re too much for them, tell them to go find less. Those are not your people. 

Don’t shrink yourself to fit in other people’s spaces. If you give them priority, and they still push you off to make plans last minute or assume you’ll still be standing there waiting for them, stop justifying their intentions and remember that their actions show you everything you need to know. Because intentions won’t hug you when you don’t believe you’re good enough. Intentions won’t tell you everything will be okay. Intentions won’t kiss you on the forehead and cherish the way when you cry, your right eye always tears more than your left. Intentions won’t do that. Intentions are the best excuses for seeing the best in someone when their actions show you otherwise.

Don’t shrink yourself, but also be willing to grow. Look at things from all sides. Take responsibility and ownership for your own actions and faults, and learn how to get better through them. Learn from them. See the beauty in people and places and things even when they’re not the one you call home, for they have beauty in them too even when it’s not meant for you. Be something to everyone and everything to someone and when you find that someone, let yourself fall totally completely madly in love with them like you never have before and that will make all the difference.

I’m something, that’s for damn sure. Something else. Something different. Something bigger. Something louder. And of all of those things, I am so much more, too. I love 1923, it has to be my favorite show of the Yellowstone universe, and quite possibly my favorite show ever. Alex and Spencer are my all time favorite fictional couple, and the relationship they have is what I crave. Not necessarily the instant flare like they did because I am not quite sure that’s realistic (though on some level I do believe it is and I always will believe so), but also because I am so much more aware now. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has taught me something about myself and who I am, and how I can grow. And I don’t just mean romantic relationships – everyone we meet in life is a relationship in some sort and how we relate to them will always teach us things if we listen. I try to always listen. I haven’t been as good about it in the past, and the past year was rough, but I am listening again and learning so much along the way.

I am so ridiculously happy for so many people around me right now. I won’t share details, because they are not my stories to tell, but seeing so many of my close friends thriving makes me happy, too. And we’re all growing too in all the best ways. It’s kinda incredible really. My kids are fucking awesome (they are!), and so are my friends and while I say any time we’re all hanging out I can’t remember ever laughing this much, we hang out again and do it again, and we all keep laughing and smiling and life is honestly good. Really good. Amazing, really.

Always believe. Always know that every moment is an opportunity to learn something, expand your mind, grow your soul. Stretch your life and your wings and see what it’s like to learn to fly. No one says you have to be good at it. Life is all about learning, after all. So go take that leap. Try to fly. Jump off that cliff. If you don’t, all you’re ever going to experience is the same old thing over and over again and hey, if that’s how you want to live your life, it’s not my place to stop you. Just know that’s not for me.

I won’t ask you to wait for me. I don’t ask that of anyone. Just like I won’t hold your hand to catch you up. I’ll inspire you (I hope I do!). I want you to slightly terrify me in all the best ways. Make me think about things differently, see things from different perspectives, stretch realities and comfort zones, and question all the things with all the wonder of a child in amazement and interest. Yes, let’s do that.

Alex and Spencer are my favorite fictional couple because above all things, her response when he told her where he was going was dangerous, was, “let’s look death in the eye together then, shall we?” as she laughs and it is one thousand percent me. In a later episode when they’re walking along a dock to board a boat for passage back home, she’s chattering away rambling off about nothing nonstop in that chirpy upbeat way I do when I’m nervous. Spencer turns and looks at her and asks, “you’re not going to do that the whole trip, are you?” referring to her talking. To which she explains that when he is concerned or afraid, he talks less, and when she is nervous, she jammers on even more. And in response he gets annoyed and talks less and less and in turn she has to talk four times as much just to fill the empty space of his silent brooding to cover her own fear and he looks at her and smiles. He understands her. And she understands him, too. She isn’t afraid to push his comfort zone, and he isn’t afraid to let her, and open up to her in return.

Isn’t it amazing when you realize how well you really know someone is not defined by the things they like or make them happy, but by how well you know their fears and secrets? That’s the true measure right there. It’s easy to tell others about our goals, what we want to do or be or become. But talking about the stuff that scares us? The stuff that challenges our souls and makes us question what really matters. Truly opening up to someone – now THAT is something. That is really something, and it forms a bond stronger than most people can ever know unless they experience it for themselves. It’s more than that, too because opening up to someone like that means you have to first be that truthfully starkly boldly honest with yourself…about everything.

Now that’s scary. It’s also liberating and empowering.

I’ve done it, and I’ll keep doing it and I’ll learn more of it along the way. I speak the truth even when it’s hard to hear or say because I know it will keep me honest and not just with others but with myself, too. That’s important, you know. Being honest with yourself. Probably the most important and the first place you have to start because if you’re not honest with yourself, there’s no way you can be honest with anyone else, that’s for sure.

I mean are you really happy? What are you most afraid of? Are you able to look yourself in the mirror and like what you see but not just on the outside, on the inside too? Did you learn anything new today? Do something that interested you? Listen to what someone had to say with your whole being – when you see, hear and feel them? There’s so much more to life than what you see on the surface. Are you listening? What do you hear when you have the world to yourself for a moment and no one else is around to hear? Is silence deafening or inspiring to you?

You don’t have to answer any of these questions out loud, or even at all. I ask them to myself to get to know myself better, so I can keep growing and learning to be a better person. You see for all that I’m replaceable – we all are – the one thing we can’t replace in our own life is ourselves. So be good to yourself. Treat yourself right. Be honest and truthful always, because when you lie to yourself you actually teach yourself that you’re not trustworthy and pretty soon you’ll be second-guessing everything and that’s a horrible place to be. Trust me, I know. Appreciate honesty even when it’s grossly uncomfortable or absolutely not at all what you want to hear. Trust your heart and your gut and your mind – together they are more powerful than any of them can be apart. And live for yourself – don’t let anyone else tell you what your life should look like. No one has the power to make that decision but you. Take it seriously, but keep laughing along the way too.

I have the absolute most amazing friends. It is so damn good to be back, even though I never really left though I talked about it. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to keep working hard and smiling and laughing and finding ways to weave all the magic and hopes and dreams I have together for all of us.

Remember this: “Being scared just means you’re about to grow. And that frequent discomfort is the price of accelerated progress.” Also remember that who you are on the inside doesn’t matter if what you do doesn’t reflect that. Be true to yourself, always. Even when it’s hard or uncomfortable because that’s when it matters most.

I look forward to finding someone who will kiss me on the forehead because they mean it and know that they will stay. Someone I am never too much for. Someone who will look fear in the face with me, and keep on going. And you know what the best part is? Every day is one day closer to finding that person – to that person finding me – and in the meantime I get to enjoy life along the way with the most amazing people.