Dear Busy Me: When “I Don’t Have Time” Really Means “I’m Afraid”

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Do you ever wake up already exhausted by everything you need to do?

You have the same twenty-four hours everyone else has, but somehow your list feels like it requires at least forty-eight.

I feel like that is the story of my life.

I go to bed with a list of everything I need to accomplish the next day running through my head.

Then I wake up, remember the list, and immediately feel overwhelmed.

How am I supposed to fit all of this into one day?

I have to eat.

I have to sleep.

Those are the bare minimum.

I have to take care of myself.

The dogs.

My family.

I have a job.

I have goals.

Ambitions.

Hobbies.

A business.

Books I want to write.

Products I want to publish.

How exactly is all of that supposed to fit inside twenty-four hours?

When the List Never Ends

Today, the list felt especially long.

I had someone coming to mow the lawn.

I needed to enroll my kid in school.

I had to figure out dinner.

I needed to make sure my kid got to an appointment.

We needed paperwork from the school.

I still needed to work on my books.

I needed to publish the journal.

I had new ideas rolling around in my head.

And somewhere in all of that, I was tired.

I wanted a nap.

Sometimes the problem is not that we are doing nothing.

The problem is that we are trying to hold every responsibility in our minds at the same time.

Everything feels urgent because everything is present.

Giving Myself Permission to Rest

I went to work today, and my husband dropped me off.

After he picked me up, the three of us went to breakfast.

We sat down.

We ate.

We relaxed for a little while.

Then I got my coffee.

On the way home, my brain went right back to reviewing everything I needed to complete.

When I got home, I put my things away.

I fed the dogs.

I took them outside.

I checked the mail.

Then I said:

I am going to lie down.

I need a nap.

So I did.

I slept longer than I intended.

Normally, that could have become another reason to criticize myself.

You slept too long.

You wasted time.

Look at everything you could have completed.

Instead, I gave myself grace.

Clearly, I needed the rest.

My body asked for something, and I listened.

That was not wasted time.

That was taking care of myself.

What Actually Needs My Attention?

When I woke up, I asked myself what truly needed to be done.

At the top of my list was Dear Journal.

I sat down and asked myself what I was feeling.

What was the strongest feeling today?

Busy.

I felt busy.

But while processing how busy I felt, I realized something.

I can only take one bite at a time.

I cannot do everything all the time.

No matter how long the list becomes, I still only have the ability to complete one thing in each moment.

The Important Things Were Already Fine

I started mentally reviewing the things I was worried about.

Did everyone have food?

Yes.

There were leftovers.

There was food in the refrigerator.

There were simple things anyone could prepare if they became hungry.

Were the dogs okay?

Yes.

They had eaten.

They had water.

They had gone outside.

They were relaxing and had access to everything they needed.

Was my husband okay?

Yes.

He had taken a nap and then gotten up to work.

Was my child okay?

Yes.

He was in his room.

Everyone was fine.

The important things had already been handled.

That meant I did not need to obsess over everything else on the list.

What Is Actually Essential?

For me, the most important things are myself, my family, my pets, and the responsibilities that keep our lives functioning.

I have to go to work.

I need to earn money so the bills can be paid.

I need to make sure there is food in the house.

I need to make sure the people and animals who depend on me are cared for.

Those things matter.

I would also love to sit down and read a book.

I would love to spend hours on my hobbies.

I would love to work on every idea that enters my head.

But those are wants.

They are important to me, but they are not always emergencies.

Recognizing the difference helps.

Planning Sounds Like More Work

Once the necessary things are identified, the next step is planning.

That sounds simple.

And once you start, it can be.

But when you are already overwhelmed, planning feels like one more thing being added to the list.

Now, in addition to everything else, I have to figure out how to organize everything else.

That is where we often lose the plot.

We become so overwhelmed by everything we have to do that we never stop long enough to decide how we are going to do it.

Then the lack of a plan makes the work feel even bigger.

Maybe I Need a Planner

Naturally, my brain decided a planner might solve the problem.

I have owned planners before.

I am decent at writing appointments and work obligations in them.

They are especially useful for keeping track of meetings and supervision.

But beyond that, I do not always use them consistently.

The planner also needs to be pretty.

If I am going to carry it around, I want to enjoy looking at it.

Realistically, a small planner would probably work best for me.

But do I want the small, practical one?

Of course not.

I want the giant, beautiful one that can hold everything I could possibly need.

Will I use all of it?

Probably not.

Do I still want it?

Absolutely.

Of Course I Thought About Making My Own

While thinking about what kind of planner I wanted, my brain offered the most predictable solution possible:

Make your own.

Because apparently, when I already have too many things to do, my natural response is to create another project.

But the idea genuinely interested me.

Could I create a planner for a neurodivergent brain like mine?

One that says:

Slow down.

You have several things to do, but this is the most important one right now.

Could it make space for emotions without allowing them to take over the entire day?

Could it help someone separate urgent tasks from things that can wait?

Could I create something useful for people whose minds work like mine?

I do not know.

But I am willing to think about it.

Making Space Instead of Finding Time

I often say I need to find time.

But time is not hiding from me.

I have the same amount every day.

What I really need to do is decide where the time will go.

I have two regular days off.

I also have a three-hour break between parts of my workday.

My current plan has been to use that break to work on my book.

What if I spent an hour and a half working on the book and another hour and a half developing the planner idea?

If I finish something, great.

If I do not, that is also okay.

I am one person.

I cannot punish myself for failing to complete every challenge in the world.

Sometimes Your Brain Is Simply Full

It is okay to admit:

My brain is busy today.

I do not have the space for this right now.

That does not mean the idea is bad.

It does not mean you are lazy.

It does not mean you will never do it.

It means your capacity is limited today.

We give our schedules more credit than we give our minds.

Sometimes there are technically open hours, but no emotional or mental space available to use them well.

That matters too.

I Was Not Too Busy to Launch the Journal

There is something I have been avoiding.

My journal is ready.

It is finished.

It is ready to be put on the market.

And I keep delaying it.

I keep telling myself I am too busy.

There are too many other things happening.

I do not have time.

But today, I realized that was not entirely true.

I am not too busy.

I am nervous.

Busy Is Sometimes a Safer Word Than Scared

It is easier to say:

I did not have time.

That sounds responsible.

It sounds understandable.

It sounds outside of my control.

It is harder to say:

I was afraid to do it.

I was scared no one would buy it.

I was afraid to put something meaningful to me in front of other people and let them decide what they thought about it.

Busy sounded better.

But calling fear by another name did not make it disappear.

It only allowed me to avoid the thing longer.

The Journal Is Good

The worst thing that can happen is that no one buys it.

That would hurt.

But it would not erase the work.

The journal was made with love.

I worked hard on it.

I thought through the questions.

I designed them intentionally.

I created something I believe is useful.

It is a good product.

I am proud of it.

I am not too busy to release it.

I am afraid to release it.

Those are two very different problems.

Doing the Thing Frees Up Space

Sometimes we feel busier because one unfinished task is taking up more mental space than it deserves.

Every time I think about my business, I remember that the journal still needs to be published.

Every time I think about the journal, I remember I am avoiding it.

The task follows me even when I am not working on it.

Publishing it will not only complete the task.

It will free up the space the fear has been occupying.

Then maybe I can work on something else.

Maybe I can read.

Maybe I can take a bath.

Maybe I can relax with the dogs.

Maybe I can lie in the coolest room in the house and dream about the next idea.

Sometimes Overwhelm Is Avoidance

I become less busy when I complete the thing that has been weighing me down.

I also become less overwhelmed when I recognize what I am actually feeling.

My brain told me I was busy.

The truth was that I was scared.

Instead of doing the scary thing and removing it from my list, I kept adding new things.

That gave me more reasons not to do it.

Sometimes creating more work is a form of avoidance.

If I am busy planning another product, organizing another idea, or creating another list, then I do not have to risk releasing the finished one.

Be Nervous and Do It Anyway

I am excited to take the first step.

I am excited to put myself out there.

I am also scared.

Those feelings can exist together.

I do not have to stop being nervous before I act.

Sometimes the goal is not to become fearless.

The goal is to be afraid and do the thing anyway.

Life is full of difficult choices.

We are going to have to do hard things.

The real decision is choosing which hard thing matters most.

Choose Your Hard

Exercising can be hard.

Changing the way you eat can be hard.

Taking care of your body can be hard.

But living every day feeling unhappy with yourself is also hard.

Which hard do you prefer?

Publishing the journal is hard because it requires vulnerability.

Avoiding the journal is hard because it keeps the fear hanging over me.

Today, I am choosing the hard thing that moves me forward.

I am choosing to publish.

Tell Yourself the Truth About the Feeling

I want to become better at naming what I actually feel.

Not the feeling that sounds more acceptable.

Not the explanation that lets me avoid responsibility.

The truth.

Maybe I am not too busy.

Maybe I have enough time to complete the thing that matters to me.

Maybe I am overwhelmed because I have not decided what matters most.

Maybe I am afraid because the thing is important.

And maybe I deserve to give that important thing my attention.

You might deserve that too.

What Is Really Stopping You?

Look at the thing on your list that keeps getting pushed back.

What explanation do you give yourself?

I am too busy.

I do not have enough time.

I need to prepare more.

I will do it when everything else is finished.

Now ask yourself whether that is the full truth.

Are you busy?

Or are you scared?

Are you overwhelmed?

Or are you avoiding a decision?

Are you unprepared?

Or are you waiting for a version of perfection that will never come?

It may truly be a time problem.

But it may be something else.

It is worth asking.

Make the List Honest

Write down what you want to accomplish.

Then place the tasks in order of importance.

What must happen today?

What needs to happen soon?

What would be nice to complete?

What can wait?

We often put things on our daily lists that do not actually belong there.

Every idea does not need immediate action.

Every task is not an emergency.

Every goal does not have to be completed today.

An honest list makes room for an honest life.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today is putting my journal out into the world.

Getting it listed.

Letting it exist beyond my computer and my plans.

I am scared.

I am nervous.

I am excited.

But I am not too busy.

I am choosing the hard thing that brings me closer to what I want.

And when it is done, I can breathe.

I can celebrate.

I can make room for the next thing without carrying this unfinished fear with me.

So make your list.

Get unbusy.

Do the things that matter to you.

Choose your hard.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Unbothered Me: When Growth Looks Like Refusing to Let Everything Ruin Your Peace

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

How can you tell when you are growing?

Is it when you start doing things you once avoided?

Is it when you notice patterns you previously ignored?

Or is it when the same situation happens, but you respond differently?

Today was one of those days when I realized I had made progress.

Nothing dramatic happened.

There was no giant breakthrough.

There was no emotional speech playing in the background while I stared thoughtfully out of a window.

It was simply a regular day filled with small moments where I could have become upset.

And I did not.

When the Same Situation Gets a Different Reaction

It is the weekend, so I followed my usual weekend routine.

I got up.

I fed the dogs.

I took them outside.

I made myself breakfast.

I started a load of laundry.

I cleaned the kitchen.

It was just me and the dogs moving around the house while my husband and son were still in their rooms, presumably asleep.

I started to feel annoyed.

It seemed unfair that I was up taking care of the house while everyone else was still in bed.

Usually, that annoyance would grow.

I might storm into the bedroom.

I might wake my husband up.

I might start an argument because I was doing everything while everyone else rested.

But today, I stopped and processed why I was upset.

And the truth was, I was not actually that upset.

They were allowed to sleep in.

I did not need help with anything.

In fact, I probably would not have wanted help with most of what I was doing.

I had my routine.

I knew how I wanted things done.

So I left them alone and continued with my day.

That may sound small.

For me, it was growth.

Not Every Feeling Needs a Reaction

Sometimes we feel something and assume we have to act on it.

I feel annoyed, so I need to confront someone.

I feel ignored, so I need to demand attention.

I feel unappreciated, so I need to make sure everyone knows what I have done.

But a feeling does not always require a reaction.

Sometimes the feeling simply needs to be acknowledged.

Yes, I felt annoyed.

But was I truly being mistreated?

No.

Did I need assistance?

No.

Was anyone stopping me from resting too?

Also no.

I was able to recognize the difference between experiencing a feeling and being controlled by it.

That was progress.

Making Decisions That Feel Bigger Than They Are

After finishing some things around the house, I sat down to work.

I had several decisions to make.

Some were big.

Some were small.

Some were somewhere in between.

But my brain has a way of turning even small decisions into something earth-shattering.

One of those decisions was what name I wanted to use professionally.

Obviously, my name is Jamesha.

That is the name I use.

But as an author, what name do I want on my work?

Do I use my full name?

My maiden name?

My married name?

What feels most like me?

That decision was harder than I expected.

But I sat with it.

I went back and forth.

And eventually, I made the decision.

Growth is not always making decisions quickly.

Sometimes growth is trusting yourself enough to finally choose.

My First Hater

Later, I checked my social media accounts to see how Dear Journal was doing.

I looked at YouTube and noticed a comment from the previous night.

I like engaging with people.

I want to answer questions.

I want to respond when someone takes the time to leave a comment.

But this particular comment had nothing to do with the podcast.

Nothing to do with the message.

Nothing to do with the words coming out of my mouth.

The person commented on my hair.

According to them, they could not take me seriously because I needed to comb it.

Any other time, that probably would have set me off.

I would have gotten angry.

I would have taken it personally.

I would have viewed it as an attack against me.

Today, I laughed.

Apparently, I have my first hater.

Yay.

If You Cannot Hear Me Because of My Hair, That Is Your Problem

The comment made me laugh because of the complete lack of logic.

You cannot take me seriously because, in your opinion, I need to comb my hair?

Okay.

That sounds like a you problem.

If you cannot see past someone’s appearance long enough to hear what they are saying, that is your problem.

The video was about refusing to place people inside boxes.

I talked about mental health.

I talked about wearing different hats.

I talked about hyperfocusing and how people decide they know everything about you based on one detail.

And the response was essentially:

You should hyperfocus on combing your hair.

The point was standing directly in front of them.

They still missed it.

Does My Hair Help Your Self-Worth?

I responded by asking whether my combing my hair would somehow improve their self-worth.

Would it help them grow?

Would it change the message?

Would my curls being arranged differently suddenly make the words more accurate?

Instead of answering that, they repeated that they could not take me seriously because of my hair.

Again, okay.

If that is what you choose to focus on, that is your choice.

I do not control that.

But I am also not going to let your inability to hear me diminish what I said.

What I said was important.

What I said was real.

What I said came from my experience.

You do not like my hair?

Okay.

I Am Not Here to Perform for You

The person continued, eventually making a comment about my mental capacity.

At that point, it became even clearer that the conversation was never truly about my hair.

It was about trying to provoke me.

Trying to pull me into an argument.

Trying to make me feel small.

But I am not a monkey.

I am not a circus act.

I am not here to perform.

I do not get online to pretend to be something I am not.

That is not my job.

It is not my responsibility.

And it is not what I want to do.

I show up as myself.

Sometimes my hair is freshly styled.

Sometimes it is still wet.

Sometimes the curls are perfect.

Sometimes they are doing whatever they decided to do that day.

But it is still me.

I Used to Hate My Hair

There was a time when a comment like that would have stayed with me.

I went through a period where I hated my hair.

I felt like it needed to be straight all the time.

I did not appreciate my natural curls.

I allowed people to convince me that my hair was not good enough.

That it was not professional enough.

That it needed to be changed before I could be taken seriously.

There are people who would love to have the definition my hair has.

And I spent years believing I should not like it.

People also convinced me that my hair was short.

It may look short when it is curly.

But curly and short are not the same thing.

Shrinkage is real.

Especially with my hair.

Ask my stylist.

She will gladly tell you that my hair is ridiculously long and thick.

Today, instead of running to straighten it or comb it into something another person approved of, I simply thought:

You do not like my hair.

And?

That Is Growth

I was unbothered.

Not pretending to be unbothered.

Not saying I did not care while secretly obsessing about it.

I genuinely did not care.

That is how I knew something had changed.

I told my husband and my best friend that I had received my first negative comment.

They immediately became concerned.

Are you okay?

Do not let it get to you.

This is where social media can become difficult.

And I understood their concern.

In the past, something like that would have gotten to me.

But this time, there was nothing to get over.

The comment did not feel like something I needed to carry.

Black Women and Our Hair

Part of why the comment did not affect me may be because there is a long history of people inserting themselves into the relationship Black women have with their hair.

Our hair is always somehow considered public business.

Too curly.

Too straight.

Too short.

Too big.

Too natural.

Too styled.

Not professional enough.

Not neat enough.

Not acceptable enough.

And once again, the message I was sharing was considered less important because of my hair.

How many times are people dismissed for the dumbest reasons?

Their hair.

Their weight.

Their voice.

Their clothing.

Their accent.

Their diagnosis.

Their race.

Their gender.

Their age.

Someone finds one detail they do not approve of and uses it as permission to disregard everything else.

That is still a them problem.

People Hear What They Are Capable of Hearing

We can explain ourselves repeatedly.

We can carefully choose our words.

We can try to make sure the message is clear.

But people will only hear what they are capable of hearing.

They will hear what they are ready to receive.

They will hear what they want to hear.

I can look someone directly in the face and tell them:

You are beautiful.

You are important.

You are kind.

You is kind.

You is smart.

You is important.

And they may still refuse to believe me.

It is hard to receive a message when your mind is not in the right place to accept it.

I Have Misheard Messages Too

There have been plenty of times when someone offered me a compliment or criticism and I heard everything except what they intended to say.

I interpreted the message through my own insecurity.

Then I became hurt.

A lot of my arguments begin because I decide that someone’s words mean something different.

My boyfriend says something, and I think:

Obviously, he does not care.

My best friend says something, and I decide:

Clearly, I am not important.

My husband says something, and I hear:

This means nothing to you.

I hear what I fear instead of what was actually said.

It is easy to do.

But today, someone sent me a message, and I knew immediately:

That does not apply to me.

That message was not for me.

And honestly, it was not truly about me.

What You Say About Me Often Says More About You

How bold do you have to be to sit behind a keyboard and insult someone’s appearance?

It is juvenile at best.

I get online and willingly admit that I am not perfect.

I am not the prettiest person in the world.

I am not the smartest person alive.

But I know what I know.

I have lived through what I have lived through.

And I am here to help.

I will continue to be here to help.

Your inability to listen because you dislike my hair does not invalidate my experience.

It only explains your limitations.

I Wish I Had Been This Unbothered Years Ago

I wish I had known how to be this unbothered years ago.

It would have saved me so much heartache.

So many fights.

So many lonely nights.

Maybe instead of fighting to convince someone to want me, love me, or care about me, I would have recognized that their inability to do so was not always my problem to solve.

Not everyone has to want me.

Not everyone has to love me.

Not everyone has to like or appreciate me.

That is okay.

I get to decide where I sit.

You Can Leave the Table

If I am not invited to the table, I do not have to beg for a chair.

If I am not wanted at the table, I can get up and walk away.

I can leave.

And the beautiful part is that you can too.

We are not required to remain in spaces where we are unwanted.

We do not have to keep explaining our value to people committed to misunderstanding it.

We do not have to audition for belonging.

We can choose another table.

We can build our own.

We can eat alone until we find people who are happy to make room.

Let Them Worry About Not Liking You

Being unbothered is difficult.

It is hard not to care what other people think.

It is hard not to wear your heart on your sleeve.

But sometimes, we need to let people worry about their own dislike.

Let them think whatever they want.

You worry about what your favorite color is today.

Mine is still yellow.

Still green.

Their opinion does not deserve more attention than your peace.

Another Chance to Become Upset

Later, I sat down and ate dinner with my family.

When everyone finished, they got up and went in different directions.

Usually, that would have been another opportunity for me to become upset.

The kitchen is a mess.

No one helped clean.

Why am I doing everything?

But tonight, I cleaned it.

And I was not angry.

Would I want to do that every night by myself?

No.

But tonight, it did not matter.

My headspace said:

This is just a good fucking day.

Nothing had happened that deserved to take that away.

A Bad Mood Was Available, but I Did Not Choose It

I had several opportunities to become upset.

I became annoyed that my family was sleeping while I cleaned.

I received a rude comment online.

I was left to clean the kitchen after dinner.

On another day, any one of those things might have changed my mood.

Today, I brushed them off.

You are not actually upset.

You do not truly care about this.

That comment does not affect you.

Dust it off.

Move on.

I grew in situations where I previously would have been a pain in the ass to myself and everyone around me.

Today, I did not turn every inconvenience into a crisis.

Sometimes It Is Okay Not to Care

Sometimes it is okay not to care.

Our mental health can convince us that every small detail matters.

They looked at me strangely.

They must not like me.

They did not respond the way I expected.

They must not want me.

They criticized me.

Maybe they are right.

Be unbothered.

Does their opinion truly change your life?

Does it make your work less valuable?

Does it change who loves you?

Does it change what you are capable of doing?

Someone whispering about you does not have the power to make or break your day unless you give it to them.

Their Opinion Does Not Change You

Someone may say:

I do not like her because she does not do this.

Okay.

That does not change you.

It does not change your kindness.

Your intelligence.

Your work.

Your appearance.

Your purpose.

Let them believe their opinion carries more weight than it actually does.

While they are thinking about you, you can keep living your life.

For you.

As you should.

Be Free From the Judgment in Your Head

Being unbothered does not mean you never feel anything.

It does not mean you become cold.

It does not mean you ignore constructive feedback.

It means you stop allowing every comment, facial expression, or sign of disapproval to become a judgment living inside your own head.

You can hear something and decide:

That is not mine.

You can receive criticism and determine whether it is useful.

You can let someone dislike you without making it your job to change their mind.

That is freedom.

I Am Not Trying to Make My Work Cleaner

Today, while writing a letter, I had to explain why I was saying something in a particular way.

Some people would want to change it.

They might say:

This could sound cleaner.

But I am not always going for cleaner.

I am going for real.

I am going for me.

I want my work to sound like the way I speak.

The way I think.

The way I would want someone to speak to me.

I am unbothered by the idea that someone else thinks it should be different.

It is my work.

My thought process.

My words.

Not everything needs to be polished until the person disappears.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was recognizing growth in situations that once would have ruined my mood.

I meal-prepped dinner.

I put it in the Crock-Pot early and let it cook throughout the day.

I received negative feedback and brushed it off.

I started to become upset with my family and realized I was not actually upset.

I chose peace instead of forcing myself into anger.

Today, I was unbothered.

That is my goal for tomorrow too.

To remember that I do things for a reason.

Not everyone will understand why I say things the way I say them.

Not everyone will understand why I do things the way I do them.

They do not have to.

Be unbothered with me.

Be carefree with me.

Just be.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Diseased Me: I Am More Than the Labels Attached to My Mental Health

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever stopped to Google the symptoms of something you think you might have?

Did it make you feel better?

Or did you walk away from the search feeling like you had just added another problem to the list?

There are days when my labels feel too heavy.

Anxiety.

Bipolar.

OCD.

Sometimes they feel less like mental health diagnoses and more like life sentences.

Maybe that is because mental illness is often treated like something you manage rather than something you recover from.

I have been told that because I have bipolar disorder, I may need medication for the rest of my life.

I may need therapy for the rest of my life.

And to me, that can make life feel hard.

Not only because of the symptoms themselves.

It is also the knowledge that something inside my brain may always require attention.

Something may always need to be monitored.

Something may always need to be managed.

Sometimes I do not want to manage myself.

Sometimes I just want to be.

Is It Me or My Mental Health?

Every day, something new seems to happen inside my brain.

And I find myself trying to determine whether it is regular me or mentally ill me.

But those should not be two separate people.

They are both me.

The version of me who is organized is me.

The version who becomes overwhelmed is also me.

The version who feels excited and capable is me.

The version who cannot get off the couch is still me.

Mental health has a way of making you feel as though you constantly need to identify which parts of yourself are real.

But if I experienced it, thought it, or felt it, it came from me.

That does not mean every thought is true.

It does mean I do not need to split myself into acceptable and unacceptable versions.

Apparently, I Might Have ADHD Too

Today, I watched a funny video online.

Someone had mixed two songs together.

The joke was that people with ADHD could hear both songs clearly, understand both sets of lyrics, and switch between them while someone with a “normal” brain might struggle.

I listened to it and immediately heard both songs.

I could switch back and forth between which one I was singing.

I could follow both sets of lyrics while also reading the comments.

I was excited.

I thought:

Wow. Look at this cool skill I have.

So naturally, I went to show my husband.

He has been diagnosed with ADHD.

He listened and laughed because his brain processes things that way all the time.

I told him that made sense for him because he has ADHD.

But I was impressed that I could do it as a normal person.

Then he looked at me and asked:

Do you not think you have ADHD?

Absolutely not.

I have never been diagnosed with ADHD.

No one has ever told me that I have ADHD.

And he reminded me that I do have some symptoms.

There is nothing wrong with having ADHD.

I know that.

But my immediate thought was:

Great. Something else.

When Curiosity Turns Into a Google Search

After that conversation, I did what I usually do.

I went into my office and started Googling.

ADHD symptoms in women.

ADHD symptoms in adult women.

ADHD and OCD together.

I went down the rabbit hole.

Some of what I read did not sound like me.

Some of it did.

And I did not like that.

Not because ADHD is bad.

Not because people with ADHD are broken.

My first fear was that it would mean another diagnosis.

Another medication.

Another thing that needed to be managed.

Another thing wrong with me.

I live a lot of my life based on what I believe I need to fix.

That is part of how my OCD appears.

I try to fix things.

I try to control things.

I try to organize what feels uncertain.

And I do not feel like I can afford another diagnosis.

What If Knowing Could Help?

The obvious question is:

Would I get evaluated?

Would I find out whether ADHD is something I should consider?

What if knowing could help me?

My honest answer in that moment was no.

I did not want to know.

And that is sad.

It is sad that mental health carries so much stigma that someone might choose not to seek information that could help them.

We would rather struggle quietly than risk gaining another label.

We would rather wonder what is wrong than hear a name attached to it.

Because once something has a name, it can feel more real.

And once it feels real, it can feel permanent.

When a Diagnosis Feels Like Proof You Are Broken

I remember talking with my therapist about being diagnosed.

I did not like it.

I cried.

I was upset.

I immediately felt like something was wrong with me.

My therapist tried to explain that the diagnosis did not mean I was broken.

It meant there were imbalances in my brain that might respond to medication and treatment.

But no matter how gently she explained it, what I heard was:

You are broken.

You need to be fixed.

I hated that feeling.

Anxiety was difficult, but it felt like something I could understand.

People had told me for years that I showed signs of OCD.

I knew I had certain tendencies.

I like the television volume on specific numbers.

I prefer parking in the same area.

I check my locks several times before bed.

I use the same bathroom stall whenever possible.

Those things felt like minor inconveniences.

They did not feel like something that should define my life.

Bipolar disorder felt different.

That diagnosis was harder to swallow.

Bipolar Felt Bigger

Bipolar disorder did not feel like a small inconvenience.

Mania is hard.

Depression is hard.

The changes in energy, motivation, emotion, and thought patterns can be exhausting.

But the symptoms were not the only thing that frightened me.

Society’s attitude toward bipolar disorder frightened me too.

Think about how often you have heard someone say:

The weather is so bipolar.

That person is acting bipolar.

The word is usually used to describe something unpredictable, frustrating, irrational, or unstable.

It is rarely used kindly.

No one says:

That person is so cool. I want to spend time with them because they are bipolar.

The word becomes an insult.

Then people who actually live with bipolar disorder have to hear it used that way over and over.

And eventually, you start wondering what people think the label says about you.

What Does the Label Make People Assume?

After my diagnosis, I became careful about what I shared.

People make judgments quickly.

If they hear bipolar, they may assume they already understand how you behave.

They may believe you are unstable.

Dangerous.

Unreliable.

Difficult.

Out of control.

But hiding my diagnosis did not help.

In fact, staying silent would have gone against what I believed.

If society says every person with bipolar disorder fits into one specific box, then my existence outside that box matters.

There are people who know me who would never guess I have bipolar disorder.

But I do.

That does not mean they misunderstood me.

It means they misunderstood bipolar disorder.

We Decide Who People Are Before Knowing Them

We are quick to define people by mental health and developmental diagnoses.

He has ADHD, so he must behave a certain way.

She is autistic, so she must communicate a certain way.

They have OCD, so they must be extremely clean.

She has bipolar disorder, so she must be unpredictable.

We take one piece of information and decide it explains the whole person.

Why can people not simply be?

Is a person autistic?

Or do they have autism?

Am I bipolar?

Or do I have bipolar disorder?

Am I nothing more than the sum of the diagnoses listed in my medical records?

Or am I a person who experiences symptoms connected to those diagnoses?

The wording may seem small.

But the way we describe ourselves can change the way we see ourselves.

Welcome to the Club

When I meet other people with similar diagnoses, they are often quiet about it.

They might lower their voice and say:

Yeah, I have bipolar disorder too.

And my response is usually something like:

Welcome to the club.

Same, queen.

Same, king.

That usually earns a smile.

Because suddenly, someone recognizes them.

They do not have to explain every thought.

Every emotional reaction.

Every way their brain interprets a conversation.

They know that someone else understands at least part of the experience.

There is comfort in not being the only person in the room whose mind works differently.

Different Does Not Mean Crazy

Even when we do not understand someone’s experience, why do we automatically label it crazy?

Why can it not simply be different from our own?

Something not being made for you does not make it wrong.

Something you do not understand does not make it irrational.

Something you would not choose does not make it shameful.

It may simply be unfamiliar.

And unfamiliarity is not proof that something is broken.

My Pens Are Just My Pens

I have a strong obsession with pens.

If I pulled out all the bags of pens around me, some people would probably start asking questions.

But people collect all kinds of things.

Trains.

Coins.

Shells.

Stamps.

We often look at those collections and say:

That is a cool interest.

Why can my pens not simply be something I enjoy?

In my field, I work with children who become attached to specific interests.

It might be trains.

Nintendo Switches.

Daniel Tiger.

Lucas the Spider.

Those interests may help them feel safe.

They may provide comfort.

They may help organize a world that feels overwhelming.

Sometimes a strong interest is simply a strong interest.

It does not always need to become proof that something is wrong.

Starting Things and Not Finishing Them

While we were discussing ADHD symptoms, my husband and best friend mentioned starting projects and not finishing them.

I felt called out.

They did not even have to say anything directly.

I immediately became defensive.

That response probably said enough on its own.

I do start things.

I do not always finish them.

I have supplies for resin projects.

Epoxy.

Scrapbooking.

Pens.

Pencils.

Markers.

Crayons.

Coloring books.

There are more hobby supplies in the garage.

I never begin a project thinking:

I am going to spend money on this and then lose interest.

I genuinely enjoy it when I start.

I still like the idea later.

I simply stop doing it.

My husband even asked about the book I am writing.

I told him it was going well.

Then he asked when I started it.

That question required more thought than it should have.

It has taken me a while.

But does the amount of time mean the work does not matter?

I Do Not Want to Be Defined by What I Finish

I do not want to be known only by what I start and stop.

I do not want to be defined by what I complete.

What I fail at.

What I succeed at.

Mental health sometimes makes everything feel like evidence.

Instead of asking why someone changed direction, people ask how many things they have abandoned.

Instead of recognizing curiosity, creativity, or changing priorities, they see failure.

I still love the idea of making wood art.

I still enjoy crafting.

I like creating beautiful things.

The fact that I have not returned to every hobby does not erase the joy I experienced while doing it.

Why Does Everything Need a Label?

It is unfortunate that everything seems to be connected to something you might have.

Every behavior becomes a symptom.

Every preference becomes evidence.

Every personality trait needs a category.

And labels are everywhere.

Are you straight?

Gay?

Lesbian?

Trans?

Cisgender?

Neurotypical?

Neurodivergent?

Sometimes I want to say:

I am just me.

I am Jamesha.

I was born in September, and I am excited about my birthday.

I am adventurous, but I like to plan.

I am highly organized.

I also become overwhelmed, and sometimes my organized spaces turn into clutter.

I can hyperfocus on something for hours.

Other times, I want to lie on the couch and do absolutely nothing.

All of those things are me.

I Wear Too Many Hats for One Box

I wear a lot of hats.

Sometimes I am a cook.

Sometimes I am a baker.

Sometimes I am a chauffeur.

Sometimes I am a housekeeper.

Sometimes I am a writer.

A wife.

A mother.

A friend.

A behavioral health professional.

I can move between those roles without being trapped inside one of them.

Why can my mental health not work the same way?

Why does a diagnosis place me inside a box that feels impossible to climb out of?

Why does bipolar disorder become the explanation for everything?

Why does OCD become my personality?

Why does anxiety become my identity?

A diagnosis should explain part of my experience.

It should not erase the rest of me.

Why “Diseased Me”?

For me, having mental illness can feel like being diseased.

I cannot escape it.

I cannot remove it.

There is no surgery that takes it out of my brain.

I can medicate it.

I can attend therapy.

I can learn coping skills.

I can build routines.

But it does not simply disappear.

That can be difficult to accept.

And still, at the end of the day, I am me.

I Am Still Comfortable Being Me

Would I like life to be easier?

Absolutely.

Would I choose fewer difficult symptoms?

Of course.

But overall, I am comfortable being me.

I only know how to be me.

And I do not want to spend my entire life trying to become someone else simply because society is uncomfortable with parts of who I am.

If you have anxiety, bipolar disorder, ADHD, autism, OCD, depression, or any other diagnosis, remember that you are human first.

The diagnosis may explain symptoms.

It may influence the way you process the world.

It may require care and treatment.

But it is not your entire identity.

It is part of you.

It is not all of you.

Say It Loudly

I think we should be able to say loudly:

Yes, I have bipolar disorder.

Yes, I have anxiety.

Yes, I have OCD.

Yes, I may have symptoms of ADHD.

And that is only part of who I am.

It does not determine whether I am kind.

Creative.

Intelligent.

Funny.

Loving.

Capable.

Reliable.

Adventurous.

Worthy.

A diagnosis may change how I move through the world.

It does not decide whether I deserve to exist in it.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was listening to what people said about what I might have without allowing myself to obsess over it.

I am not going to let the possibility consume me.

I am not going to allow another potential label to convince me that I am less than I was before I heard it.

Because at the end of the day, I am still going to be me.

A diagnosis might give me more information.

It will not create or destroy my identity.

I hope you remember that about yourself too.

You are not required to hate yourself because your brain works differently.

You are not broken because you need support.

You are not weak because you take medication.

You are not less human because you have a diagnosis.

You are still you.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Giving Me: When Friendship Means Learning to Receive, Too

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

What do you do when you want to help someone who keeps telling you no?

You know they could use the help.

You know you are not trying to embarrass them.

You are not trying to make them feel small.

You simply see a need, and every part of you wants to meet it.

I do not know how to watch someone struggle and just ignore it.

That has never been in my nature.

Especially now, when it feels like the world is hurting so loudly.

There are so many people who need help and are too afraid, too proud, or too conditioned to ask for it.

And sometimes the hardest thing is not finding a way to give.

Sometimes the hardest thing is watching someone you love refuse to receive.

Wanting More Than Survival for the People You Love

I have a friend who works his butt off.

He does what he needs to do to survive.

But I keep thinking that life should be more than survival.

Shouldn’t a person be able to work a full-time job and still have access to good food?

Shouldn’t basic things like real meals feel more reachable than they do?

He is one of my best friends.

He is also the type of friend who makes sure that every payday I end up with some sort of gift.

Not because I ask.

Not because I expect it.

It is simply the kind of person he is.

This week, though, money was tight for him.

Bills were due.

Rent was due.

Life was life-ing.

And I knew he would probably be stretching every dollar he had.

I never expect him to buy me anything.

It is always sweet when he does, but it is not the foundation of our friendship.

Still, knowing that he is the kind of person who will give even when he does not have much made me notice even more that this week, he was the one who needed something.

Shopping for Him While Shopping for Me

I was putting together my grocery order and doing something a little different than usual.

Normally, I toss random things into the grocery cart and hope I figure it out later.

This week, I sat down and actually planned meals.

I looked up recipes.

I figured out what I wanted to cook.

I built the cart with intention.

And while I was shopping for myself, it hit me that he and I like a lot of the same foods.

So I started shopping for him too.

There were a few things I needed to ask about because I did not want to send him duplicates if he already had them.

So I started texting him:

Do you have this seasoning?

Do you have this sauce?

Do you have this?

Do you have that?

And of course he kept asking why.

Which is annoying when I am trying to be sneaky and helpful.

Eventually, I just asked him if he wanted some real food.

Not because he has no food at all.

He does.

But there is a difference between having food and having access to meals that actually nourish you.

Poverty Changes What Food Looks Like

It seems like in America, the less money you have, the worse you are expected to eat.

Fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive.

Meat is expensive.

Cooking meals from scratch is expensive.

It is not always about laziness or not knowing how to cook.

Sometimes it is about access.

Sometimes it is about cost.

Sometimes it is about trying to make sure you have enough food for the week, even if it is not the kind of food your body really needs.

So he does what a lot of people do.

Frozen pizzas.

Frozen meatballs.

Quick things that can go in the freezer and last.

Easy meals.

Cheap meals.

Meals that fill the hole without really filling the person.

And because I know that, I decided I was going to get him groceries.

I Bought the Groceries Anyway

We talked about it.

He told me he did not want “real food.”

But I knew that was not the full truth.

It was not that he truly did not want it.

It was that groceries are expensive, and he did not want me to feel obligated to help.

That is where he and I are different.

I was not doing it out of obligation.

This is a man who will say, “I do not know how much money I am going to have for the next two weeks,” and still somehow try to buy me a gift.

So no, I was not going to let him tell me no.

I did what any good best friend would do.

I bought the groceries anyway.

I had them delivered to his house.

Then I sent him the delivery notification and told him his groceries were at the front door.

He picked them up.

He was thankful.

He was appreciative.

But that does not change the fact that receiving the help made him uncomfortable.

And that is the part that stayed with me.

Why Is Receiving So Hard?

I find myself in similar situations.

I am very guarded.

Guarded with what I share.

Guarded with how open I am.

Guarded with who I call a friend.

Not because I am not friendly.

I am.

But there are very few people in this world who can truly say they know me deeply.

I have learned that staying quiet often feels safer than volunteering more of myself than I need to.

People have asked me to be vulnerable.

To share more.

To let them in.

And that is hard for me.

So when I see him struggling to receive from me, I recognize a piece of myself in that.

We Know How to Give, But Not Always How to Receive

He is one of those people who always shows up for me.

He listens.

He hypes me up.

He tells me I look good when I feel like I look awful.

Even today, I FaceTimed him, and the first thing he said was that green looks great on you.

He is that person.

He is one of my biggest hype men.

He wants me to accept his compliments.

He wants me to accept his gifts.

He wants me to accept the ways he shows up for me.

And yet, the minute I try to do something meaningful for him, he does not know how to receive it.

That made me think about how deeply many of us internalize the idea that we have to be overly independent.

We act like needing help makes us weak.

Like accepting kindness makes us needy.

Like no one should ever have to do for us what we are willing to do for them.

But is that really friendship?

Friendship Cannot Be One-Sided

If a friendship is built on me doing things for you, but you will never let me return the favor, what kind of friendship is that?

That is not balance.

That is not mutual care.

That is one-sided.

And I do not mean that in a cruel way.

I mean it in the most honest way possible.

Friendship should have room for both people to give.

Both people to receive.

Both people to be cared for.

Today, he did not ask me for groceries.

He did not expect me to send them.

But it felt good to be able to do it.

If I could help every single person I came across, I probably would.

That is just how my heart works.

Being Rich in Heart

You hear about millionaires and billionaires, and sometimes I struggle to understand how so many people can be hurting while so much money exists in the world.

Yes, I understand that people earn their money.

Yes, I understand it belongs to them.

But I cannot imagine having the ability to help and deciding that someone else’s pain is simply not my problem.

I will never be that person.

I will never look at someone struggling, know I can help, and decide to look away.

That is not how I am built.

I will always be a giver.

But I am also learning that if I want to be the kind of giver I say I am, I need to learn how to be a receiver too.

Because that goes both ways.

It is beautiful that I want to show up for people.

It is also beautiful when people want to show up for me.

Sometimes We Have to Step Out of Our Own Way

I told him I was upset.

Not furious.

Not screaming.

Not friendship-ending upset.

Just the kind of upset that says:

You do so much for me.

Why won’t you let me do something for you?

And the truth is, this reflection is not really about me being mad at him.

It is about me recognizing that sometimes we have to step out of our own way and just receive the gift.

Sometimes we get to say yes, even when it feels uncomfortable.

Yes, I do look good in my green shirt today.

Yes, that sweatshirt is going to look good on me.

Yes, I appreciate the compliment.

Yes, I appreciate the kindness.

Yes, I appreciate being seen and heard when I do not feel seen and heard.

Sometimes saying yes is not about taking.

Sometimes it is about allowing someone else the joy of giving.

Let People Love You the Way They Want To

One of the things I appreciate most is that he learned he was not the healthy version of himself that I needed years ago.

Then he came back when he was.

He keeps choosing to show up for me.

He keeps making sure I am okay.

He keeps giving.

And I am deeply thankful for that.

I am also thankful that I can say something as simple as Brussels sprouts and he understands exactly what that means.

That is friendship.

That is knowing someone.

That is caring enough to pay attention.

The world needs more people who know how to love like that.

People who may not be rich in money but are rich in heart.

People who know how to show others they are appreciated, wanted, and needed.

Sometimes, that is the richest a person can be.

Maybe You Are Not Getting Nothing

For the people who feel like they keep giving and giving and giving but never receive anything back, I think there is an important question to ask.

Are you truly not receiving anything?

Or are you keeping people far enough away that they cannot give to you?

That is not blame.

I will never say it is your fault.

But there are usually two people involved.

And I can admit that there have been times people tried to give to me, and I was too proud to receive it.

That is a me problem.

And because it is a me problem, it is something I can work on.

You Cannot Expect It from Others and Refuse It for Yourself

I would like to not feel needy.

But I would also like to be able to accept things because someone cared enough to give them to me.

In the same way I want him to accept the groceries because I cared enough to send them.

I cannot say that it is good enough for him to receive and not good enough for me.

That is not fair.

Not to him.

Not to me.

If I want reciprocal friendship, I have to be willing to participate in reciprocity.

That means giving.

And it means receiving.

Everybody Is Welcome Here

Today I did a lot of giving because that is just where my heart is.

If you are hungry, let’s eat.

I am not going to ask if you have money.

I am not going to make you feel ashamed.

I am going to say let’s go eat.

I do not expect repayment.

That is not my mentality.

I expect you to sit down, eat, and enjoy yourself.

In my world, everybody is welcome.

Everybody is loved.

Everybody is taken care of.

That will continue to be my world because that is what I know how to give.

Sometimes the Hardest Person to Give To Is Yourself

I give you guys me every night.

The truth.

The whole truth.

Nothing but the truth.

Some nights my hair is flowing and curly.

Some nights it is dry because it is hot outside.

But it is me.

That is what I offer.

And I will keep offering it.

But I also want us to recognize something bigger.

Sometimes the hardest person to give to is yourself.

We know how to feed everyone else.

Comfort everyone else.

Show up for everyone else.

Encourage everyone else.

Buy the groceries.

Send the gift.

Offer the compliment.

Be the safe place.

But how often do we give those same things to ourselves?

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today is recognizing that I gave to others, but I have also needed to receive from others.

And sometimes what I was receiving was not material at all.

Sometimes it was friendship.

Sometimes it was kindness.

Sometimes it was being seen.

Sometimes it was someone showing up for me in the exact way I needed.

That counts too.

So tonight, I want us to work on both.

Giving more freely when we can.

Receiving more graciously when love shows up at our door.

And maybe even learning how to give some of that same care back to ourselves.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Impulsive Me: When Acting Quickly Keeps You From Asking What You Really Need

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

How are you at controlling your impulses?

Can you take a step back and think something through before acting?

I would like to believe I can do that most of the time.

Sometimes, I can pause.

I can give myself a moment to consider what I am doing, why I am doing it, and whether it is actually a good idea.

Then there are the other times.

The times when the intrusive thought wins.

The impulse shows up, and I act before the reasonable part of my brain has a chance to join the conversation.

Sometimes I Just Do Things

There are certain things I do not like to plan.

I just do them.

Quitting a job?

I just do it.

Applying for a job?

I just do it.

Once, I gave myself a nickname entirely on a whim.

Triple H.

Before you ask, it stands for hyper, hungry, and horny because I am usually at least one of the three.

Sometimes guys get lucky, and I am all three at once.

The name was fitting then.

It is still fitting now.

The fact that people have known me by that nickname for years probably says more about me than I would like to admit.

Sometimes I do things that are completely out of pocket simply because they feel good in the moment.

My Impulses Get Bigger When I Want to Be Liked

I have noticed that my impulses become stronger when they involve getting someone to like me.

I recently started working with a new kiddo.

I need to build a connection with him so that he will trust me enough to participate in the things we need to do together.

The first thing he does when I open my tablet is touch the keyboard.

So I may or may not have bought him a toy with a keyboard of his own.

My reasoning was simple.

He likes the keyboard.

He needs something to engage with during our sessions.

So I bought it.

Problem solved.

Except, I have done this before.

When I worked with the girls at the mental health facility, I would see something they needed and buy it.

I did not stop to ask:

What bills are coming up?

What responsibilities do I have?

Do I actually have room in my budget for this?

I wanted to do something for someone, so I did it.

That is how I tend to live.

I throw caution—and sometimes cost—to the wind when the decision involves someone else.

Unfortunately, I often do that at my own expense.

Do They Like Me or What I Do for Them?

Somewhere along the way, I decided the fastest way to make people like, appreciate, or want me was to do things for them.

Buy the thing.

Solve the problem.

Fill the need.

Make myself useful before I have enough time to think about whether I should.

Does it work?

Does it make people want me more?

Me?

No.

The things I do for them?

Absolutely.

That is an important difference.

Someone appreciating what you provide is not always the same as someone appreciating who you are.

And yet, I still rush to prove my value through what I can give.

Why I Avoid Thinking First

Why do I rush into things?

Why do I act before giving myself time to think?

The answer feels simple.

If I give myself time to think, I might talk myself out of it.

But if I can talk myself out of something that easily, maybe it was not worth doing in the first place.

When I do not want to convince myself to make the reasonable choice, I skip the conversation entirely.

I act.

Then I deal with the consequences later.

Generally, when something is truly important, I can sit down and reason through it.

I can say:

Yes, this matters.

But something else may matter more right now.

The impulsive choices are often the ones I do not want examined too closely.

Impulses Are Not Only About Buying Things

When we talk about impulsivity, we usually talk about spending money.

Buying a car without thinking.

Ordering something expensive.

Making a large purchase because it felt good in the moment.

But impulses are not limited to physical items.

We can impulsively enter relationships.

We can impulsively form friendships.

We can join groups without asking whether they are healthy for us.

We can attach ourselves to people because they seem to solve a problem we are feeling in that moment.

Then, suddenly, it is:

I love you so much.

And we have known the person for three days.

Moving Quickly Through Relationships

I move quickly in relationships.

I also move quickly from relationships.

I do not always allow the dust to settle before I enter another one.

When I first moved to this area, I was engaged.

That relationship ended.

Within about a week, I was dating someone new.

It did not feel like a big deal.

I simply moved on.

I dated someone.

We got an apartment together.

When that relationship ended, I made him leave and started dating someone else.

Then I moved the next person into the apartment.

When that did not work, I moved him out and someone else in.

It was a back-to-back string of relationships.

The final one ended in marriage.

The last man I moved into the apartment still has not moved out.

Apparently, that one stuck.

But the way I entered those relationships was impulsive.

I was not asking:

Is this relationship good for me?

Is this what I need?

Is this even what I want?

It was more like:

This feels good right now.

It makes me feel a little less alone.

Why not?

The Relationship May Begin Quickly, but the Consequences Stay

How often do we enter a situation thinking we can talk ourselves out of it later?

How often do we end up committed to someone we knew was not right for us because we entered the relationship impulsively?

I am married to my husband.

I am not saying the entire marriage was one impulse.

We dated for two years before we got married.

I had plenty of time to leave.

I did not.

But I should have waited before entering the relationship.

He had also just come out of a relationship.

When I met him, I believed he was divorced.

I said believed for a reason.

Neither of us stopped to ask what we actually wanted or needed.

Neither of us considered whether moving forward so quickly was healthy.

We became caught in the whirlwind.

Then I found out he was not divorced.

By that point, we were already living together.

Because I acted quickly, I found myself in a relationship with someone going through an extremely messy divorce.

The impulse passed.

The situation remained.

What Would I Have Chosen if I Knew Myself Better?

My husband has many qualities I want in a partner.

I am not afraid to acknowledge that there are also things I wish were different.

There are choices I wish I had made differently.

Had I taken more time to understand myself, I might be in a different position today.

That does not mean I know exactly what I would have chosen.

Would I still be married to him if I had slowed down and thought everything through?

I do not know.

I would like to say yes.

But I honestly do not know.

That uncertainty is uncomfortable.

Still, it is more honest than pretending every impulsive decision would have led me to the exact same place.

Is It Family I Want or Love?

Today, I was thinking about family.

I thought about what a healthy marriage looks like.

Healthy friendships.

Healthy relationships.

Then I thought about the relationship between a mother and daughter.

I have wanted children for as long as I can remember.

I have dreamed of having a family since I was about five years old.

That desire has always felt like one of the clearest things I know about myself.

But today, I asked a harder question:

Do I want a family?

Or am I searching for someone who will love me?

Those are not the same thing.

Having a child does not guarantee that someone will love you.

It means you have someone you are responsible for.

A child is not born with the responsibility of filling an emotional hole inside their parent.

Fear of Becoming My Mother

The clearest example I have of motherhood is the mother who raised me.

When I was younger, I used to say that if there were any chance I would become the kind of mother she was to me, I would rather lock myself away.

I did not want to make another person feel the way I felt.

At the same time, I convinced myself that because I experienced what I did, I could simply do the opposite.

In theory, that can happen.

People can break cycles.

People can learn healthier ways of loving and parenting.

But if my only reason for chasing motherhood was to create the family I wished I had, then I had more work to do first.

Having a child should never be an impulse.

And yet, I have often been impulsive about building a family.

Apparently, I Collect Kids Like Pokémon

I joke that I collect kids like Pokémon.

Some stay.

Some do not.

I currently have two.

There are others spread across the country who still matter deeply to me.

That is part of who I am.

But I had to ask myself whether becoming a foster parent was entirely about what the children needed.

They did need parents.

They needed safety.

They needed someone to care for them.

There is truth in that.

But I also did it for me.

I wanted a family.

I wanted the ideal picture I had created in my head to become real.

I did not fully consider everything that would come with it.

Wanting the Result Without Examining the Reality

When we first became foster parents, I handled much of the parenting by myself.

My husband worked outside the home.

I did too.

But the doctor appointments, school responsibilities, transportation, and daily needs often fell back on me.

When we took in more children, the pattern continued.

He would ask whether I needed help.

That question made me angry.

He did not understand why.

To me, asking whether I needed help implied that the responsibility belonged to me.

If we both agreed to become parents, then the children were both of our responsibility.

Doctors.

Dentists.

Schools.

Transportation.

All of it.

He was not helping me with my job.

We were supposed to be doing our job together.

Had I slowed down and learned how my husband viewed parenting before we became foster parents, we might have avoided some of that conflict.

But I was so focused on getting the family I wanted that I ignored the details surrounding it.

Getting What You Want Is Not the Same as Getting What Serves You

How often do we enter relationships that we know, deep down, are not good for us?

We know the relationship is not healthy.

We know it does not serve us.

We know it is unlikely to end well.

But the impulse says:

This is how it is supposed to happen.

We met.

We connected.

Now we are together.

Then the relationship stops feeling good.

You are unhappy.

Your needs are not being met.

But because you entered it, you feel trapped inside it.

You say:

I chose this.

I have to make it work.

You do not.

A quick yes does not have to become a lifetime sentence.

Sometimes We Stay Because the Impulse Worked

Sometimes someone enters a relationship with a person they never expected to attract.

They think:

I did not expect someone like this to want me.

Then the person says yes.

The impulse feels successful.

They feel chosen.

But later, they realize they do not even like the person very much.

Now they are exhausting themselves trying to meet the needs of someone they do not truly want to be with.

The impulse worked.

They got the relationship.

But getting what you impulsively wanted does not mean it was good for you.

Many of My Relationships Began as Impulses

I realized today that many of my relationships were built on impulses.

I am grateful that some of them became deeper.

Some became meaningful.

Some became permanent parts of my life.

But I wish I had understood what I was doing when I made those decisions.

Would I have the same friends if I had thought everything through?

Would I live in Missouri?

Would I live in Kansas?

Would I have married my husband?

I do not know.

I am thankful for the people I have met.

I am thankful for my children.

I would not change who they are or what they mean to me.

But I can be thankful for the outcome while acknowledging that the process was impulsive.

Both things can be true.

My Children Are Still My Children

My kids will always be my kids.

They may have other mothers.

Other fathers.

Other relationships.

But they will still be able to call me when they are thirty-five and say:

Mom, I need you.

And they will know I will answer.

That is who I am as a mother.

The relationship does not have to look exactly the way I once imagined for it to be real.

That realization matters because I have spent much of my life believing family had to fit one specific picture.

The Picture I Thought I Needed

I believed that to have a family, I had to get married.

I had to have a child with my husband.

I needed the house.

The land.

The cars.

The jobs.

I needed the entire picture.

But none of those things automatically creates a family.

A marriage certificate does not guarantee love.

A house does not guarantee safety.

A child does not guarantee closeness.

Having all the pieces does not mean the picture will feel complete.

Still, I kept chasing that version because I believed it was necessary.

Impulses Try to Fill What Is Missing

We often chase things we do not actually need to chase.

We serve our impulses because something inside us feels missing.

The impulse promises to fill it quickly.

Buy this.

Date this person.

Join this group.

Move in.

Get married.

Have a child.

Help someone.

Give something away.

Make yourself useful.

Then maybe you will finally feel loved.

Maybe you will finally feel seen.

Maybe you will finally feel wanted.

That is what the impulse offers.

A quick solution to a deeper need.

What Was I Really Missing?

Today, I wanted to know what I was missing.

I wanted to understand why my impulse to build a family had always been so strong.

It is not that I do not want a family.

I do.

I would love to have a family.

In many ways, I already have one.

But underneath the desire for family was another desire.

I want to be seen.

I want to be loved.

And those things are not the same as having a family.

Being seen is not the same as being married.

Being loved is not the same as having children.

Being wanted is not the same as being needed.

That was a difficult realization.

Holding Up the Mirror

I am glad I had the realization, even though I am still processing it.

I will probably talk to friends.

I will turn it over in my head.

I will continue trying to understand it.

But I am grateful that I am beginning to recognize that I may have been approaching some of this the wrong way.

We cannot process our patterns unless we are willing to examine them.

Sometimes that means holding up a mirror and admitting:

Something about this is not right.

That is difficult.

It is much easier to explain someone else’s behavior than to question our own.

Does the Impulse Serve What You Need?

Tonight, I am going to think about what I need.

I am going to think about what I want.

Then I am going to ask whether the things I impulsively pursue actually serve either one.

Does buying something for another person help me create a healthy connection?

Or does it teach them to value what I provide?

Does rushing into a relationship give me love?

Or does it temporarily make me feel less alone?

Does chasing a particular version of family meet my needs?

Or am I using it to avoid asking why I do not already feel seen?

The goal is not to shame myself for having impulses.

The goal is to understand what they are trying to accomplish.

Pause Long Enough to Ask Why

An impulse is not automatically bad.

Sometimes quick decisions lead to wonderful experiences.

Sometimes spontaneity creates joy.

Sometimes trusting yourself is exactly the right thing to do.

But some decisions deserve a pause.

Before making the purchase, ask:

What am I hoping this will change?

Before entering the relationship, ask:

Do I want this person, or do I want the feeling of being wanted?

Before agreeing to a commitment, ask:

Does this fit the life I actually want?

Before trying to save someone, ask:

Am I helping them, or am I trying to prove my worth?

A pause does not have to stop you.

It simply gives the thoughtful part of you time to catch up.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was watching my client succeed at something we had been working on.

I have only worked with him for four days.

He is already accomplishing things I have asked him to do.

It is amazing to watch the moment something clicks.

It is amazing to know that I helped create that moment.

And it reminds me that I am good at my job.

If I am that good at what I do, why do I still feel the need to prove that I deserve to be seen and wanted?

Clearly, I am seen.

Clearly, I am wanted.

Clearly, I am needed.

My impulses will not make those things more true.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Go-Getter Me: What If You Became Your Own Biggest Cheerleader?

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever wondered what life would look like if you were your own biggest cheerleader?

What would happen if you gave yourself the praise, encouragement, and validation you so freely give to everyone else?

What would it feel like to stop waiting for someone else to notice what you have done and simply say:

I did that.

I did a good job.

I am proud of myself.

Today, I did not feel well when I woke up.

But I still got up.

I went to work.

I did what I needed to do.

Then I came home, sat at my desk, and let my mind wander.

Eventually, it settled on one question:

What would I do differently if I became my own biggest cheerleader?

Trying to Please Everyone

I spend a lot of time trying to please other people.

The problem is that the people I am trying to please have completely different standards.

I grew up in church, so there is a large portion of my family that is deeply religious.

How do I make them happy?

How do I live in a way they approve of?

Then there is another portion of my family that is not religious and has an entirely different idea of what my life should look like.

How do I make them happy?

How do I live up to their expectations?

And as I sat here thinking about all of that, I had to ask myself:

Why is it my responsibility to make any of them happy?

When Other People’s Expectations Become Your Life

I have talked before about the fact that my marriage has been hard.

Some people would say:

Just leave.

You are not old.

You still have time to enjoy your life.

Walk away.

But that is not how I was raised.

I was not taught that you walked away from a marriage.

In my mind, leaving would feel like failing.

If someone else told me they were leaving a difficult marriage, I would probably tell them it was not failure.

I would tell them they were choosing themselves.

I would tell them they were allowed to protect their peace.

But when it comes to me, the rules change.

For me, it would feel like giving up.

So then I have to ask:

Is avoiding the feeling of failure a good enough reason to stay somewhere that is hurting me?

I become so busy trying to meet everyone else’s expectations for my life that I completely ignore my own.

What If I Praised Myself?

What if I simply told myself:

You did a good job today.

You did not feel well, but you still got up and went to work.

You showed up.

You pushed through.

You did what needed to be done.

Why does that praise have to come from someone else before I believe it?

Why can I not say it to myself and let that be enough?

Giving Away Something I Loved

Today, I gave away one of my Instant Pots.

I had three.

Now I have two.

That may not sound like a big accomplishment, but it was a big deal for me.

I do not give away my things lightly.

I am absolutely the type of person who would give you the shirt off my back.

But I would probably prefer to buy you a brand-new shirt rather than give you one of mine that I no longer use.

I have held on to boxes of craft supplies for years.

I have moved them from one house to another.

My husband has carried heavy boxes while asking:

What is in this?

And I have answered:

My scrapbook paper.

Scrapbook paper I had not touched in more than ten years.

This year, I finally gave it away.

Not because I felt forced.

Not because I was punishing myself.

Not because my husband told me to get rid of it.

I gave it away because the girls at the facility where I worked loved to craft, but they did not have many supplies.

I had more than enough.

They had very little.

Giving it to them made sense.

Usually, when I give something away, I immediately want to replace it.

This time, I did not.

Maybe that is because filling their cup also filled mine.

I did not feel like I had lost anything.

Shout-out to me for that.

Give Yourself the Credit

Shout-out to me for recognizing when people need to be heard.

Shout-out to me for being willing to listen.

Shout-out to me for loving people.

Shout-out to me for being a nice person.

Because I am a nice person.

I do not know why someone else has to say it before it becomes true.

If I know that I am kind, thoughtful, and generous, why am I waiting for another person to confirm it?

Recognizing What You Do Well

I am good at finding work.

When I want a job, I find one.

I am good at keeping a job when I want to keep it.

At one point, I had five jobs on the table and could not possibly work all of them.

That is something I do well.

There are people who are struggling to find work right now.

I recognize that I am fortunate in that area.

I am good at interviews.

I know how to walk into a room and sell myself.

Maybe I am good at it because my entire life has felt like one long attempt to convince people of my value.

I have spent years trying to prove:

You should like me.

You should want me.

You should keep me around.

I have purpose in your life.

But why do I spend so much time proving my purpose to everyone else?

Why do I not take the time to show myself what my purpose is in my own life?

I Can Be Enough for Me

Usually, these journal entries include a lot of rumbling, questioning, and trying to make sense of something that happened during my day.

Today feels different.

Today is simply me recognizing that I am worthy of my own encouragement too.

I may not be everybody’s everything.

I cannot be everybody’s everything.

But I can sure as hell be enough for me.

Maybe My Standards Are Not Too High

I often tell myself that my standards are too high.

Maybe I am too difficult to please.

But what if I am not?

What if my standards are what they are because I know I can meet them myself?

I do not need someone else to take me out to dinner.

I enjoy it.

I like being treated.

But I can take myself to dinner too.

I can buy myself nice things.

I can go to the movies.

I can read a book and disappear into another world.

I can go out.

I can make friends.

I can entertain myself.

I can build a life outside of my home, and I can also build one inside it.

The things I want from other people are often things I already know how to give myself.

I Started a Podcast

I do not give myself enough credit for the things I have accomplished.

I decided on a whim that I wanted to start a podcast.

I did not know how to do it.

I did not know what I would talk about.

I did not know how I would present myself.

I simply decided:

I think I should do this.

So I did.

And I am still doing it.

That is a big deal.

I Started a Business

I also decided I wanted to start a business.

I do not know how successful it will become.

I do not know what part of it will take off.

I do not currently have a long list of clients.

Usually, that would be the perfect opportunity for me to tear myself apart.

I would say:

Clearly, you are not doing a good job.

Look at where you are.

But today, I want to say something different.

You still did it.

You put in the time.

You put in the effort.

You built a website.

You saw a problem and believed you might be able to help solve it.

Then you tried.

That is amazing.

Doing What I Needed Someone to Do for Me

I chose to step into a role where I could help other people.

I did that because when I was hurting, I felt like people saw me and kept walking.

So I decided to become someone who stops.

Someone who notices.

Someone who listens.

Someone who says:

I see you.

That matters.

Feeling Pretty Today

Today, I got up and got dressed.

That can be a fight for me because I do not always like the way I look.

But as I sit here talking to my journal and speaking to all of you, I feel pretty.

I like the way my hair is curled.

The lighting looks good.

I like my earrings.

I like the way my shirt fits.

I am wearing my rings.

I have on my bracelet and my watch.

Those things may not mean much to anyone else.

But they mean something to me.

My earrings remind me of a day out with my husband and my kid.

My ring was a payday gift from someone who loves me.

My bracelet came from a child who cared enough to want to replace something of mine that had broken.

These things are not just accessories.

They hold stories.

They remind me that I have been loved.

I Do Everything With Intention

Almost everything I do has intention behind it.

When I choose my journal for the night, I choose it intentionally.

I do not select a random word.

I choose the word that feels strongest.

I designed my office intentionally.

I took what could have been a second living room and made it mine.

I have my bookshelves.

My windows.

My desk.

And my desk could not be a normal desk.

Of course not.

I bought a tabletop and placed it over organizers because I wanted enough room to spread everything out.

I wanted storage.

I wanted everything to have a place.

I do so many things with intention.

Except talk to myself.

What If I Changed the Way I Spoke to Myself?

I do not wake up and immediately say something kind to myself.

I do not praise myself.

I do not tell myself that I am doing a good job.

I do not give myself credit for everything I am carrying.

What would happen if I changed that?

I am not saying my life would suddenly become perfect.

But it might feel drastically different if I learned to cheer myself on.

What if I congratulated myself when I did something well?

What if I acknowledged that it may not have been perfect, but I still did it?

It was still written.

It still counts.

Apparently, I Needed Permission for Tacos

Today, I wanted tacos.

Tacos are my go-to food.

I was not sad.

I was not upset.

Tacos just sounded good.

But for some reason, I felt like I needed an excuse to order them.

I asked my husband whether he was hungry.

I was secretly hoping he would say no.

Not because I did not want him to eat.

If he wanted food, I would need to order from a specific Mexican restaurant because of the way he likes his food prepared.

If it was only for me, I could simply order whatever I wanted.

He said he was not hungry and would probably eat later.

That was a later problem.

Still, I did not order my tacos.

I went into his office.

He was streaming and playing poker.

I did not want to interrupt him, so I started cleaning.

That is what I do when I am uncomfortable.

I clean.

Eventually, I told him I was hungry.

He asked what I wanted.

I said tacos.

He reminded me that we had food in the refrigerator.

We had Sloppy Joes.

I did not want Sloppy Joes.

We had eaten them the night before.

I wanted tacos.

Finally, I told him what I actually needed.

I said:

I need you to look at me and say, “You did a good job this week. You deserve tacos. Order yourself some tacos.”

So he repeated it.

I did not think he sounded like he meant it.

But I accepted it anyway.

Then I went back to my office and tried to order tacos.

Even that felt like too much work.

Opening the door to pick them up felt like too much work.

So I ate Sloppy Joes.

That is a lot of emotional labor for a taco.

Why Did I Need Someone Else to Approve My Celebration?

Why did I need my husband to tell me I had earned tacos?

I already knew what I had done that week.

I started a new job.

I love my client.

His parents are wonderful.

I enjoy going to work.

Between work shifts, I have been working on my book.

I have made new friends.

I have become a regular at a restaurant.

I am having a good week.

Why does someone else need to say it before I believe it?

Why does someone else need to give me permission to celebrate myself?

Waiting for Someone Else to Choose Me

I do this all the time.

I sit behind my phone waiting for someone to tell me they love me.

That they care about me.

That they are thinking about me.

It feels good when someone reaches out.

I am not pretending it does not.

But I want to reach a point where I enjoy my own presence too.

I want to look in the mirror and feel happy to see myself.

I want to feel proud when I accomplish something.

I want to go after what I need.

I want to say:

This is what I need.

This is my boundary.

This is what I will accept.

And if you cannot meet it, there is the door.

Instead, I often say:

Let me see what I can work out for you.

We Deserve to Cheer for Ourselves

We deserve to be our own biggest cheerleaders.

It may sound strange.

It may feel uncomfortable.

It may feel fake at first.

This is coming from the same person who recently complained about the way she looked.

Today, I am sitting here thinking:

These curls are popping.

The light is hitting just right.

My eyes look like they are sparkling.

My smile is bright.

I feel happy.

And I feel happy because I am finally giving myself credit where credit is due.

Stop Waiting for Someone to Notice

I do so many big and small things behind closed doors.

No one sees all of them.

And I sit around waiting for someone to notice.

I want someone to say:

She did that.

I did not expect her to pull that off.

But what if I stopped waiting?

What if I said:

I did that.

I knew I could do it.

I expected it from myself, and I followed through.

What would happen if we all celebrated ourselves before waiting for someone else to do it?

I Cheer for Everyone Else

I am good at cheering for my friends.

I can tell my best friend she is a great mother because she is.

She is raising two children.

She has a toddler and a school-aged child.

She struggles with her mental health and still gets up every day to take care of her family.

She is doing the damn thing.

But when was the last time she gave herself credit for that?

Another one of my best friends works hard every chance he gets.

He comes home exhausted.

He gets up the next morning and does it again.

He injured his toe and still went to work.

He may not have been happy about being there, but he still showed up.

Would he stop and tell himself:

I did that.

I did not want to be there, but I still showed up.

I am proud of myself.

Probably not.

We are good at seeing what other people deserve credit for.

We need to become just as good at seeing it in ourselves.

Showing Up Counts

We are all doing a good job.

The fact that we continue showing up for our own lives matters.

Sometimes showing up is hard.

Some days, simply getting out of bed is work.

Some days, going to your job when you do not want to deal with people is work.

Some days, taking care of your children while struggling inside is work.

Some days, making dinner, cleaning your house, or answering a phone call is work.

Give yourself credit.

Find the Thing You Do Well

I am proud of you.

I am proud of me.

And I hope you are proud of yourself.

If you are not currently doing something that makes you proud, do something different.

Find one thing you can look at and say:

I am fucking amazing at that.

Maybe you make an excellent grilled cheese sandwich.

Personally, I think grilled cheese tastes better when someone else makes it.

It is just bread, butter—or mayonnaise, depending on who is cooking—and cheese.

Yet somehow, it tastes better when another person makes it.

Maybe you are that person.

Maybe you clean your house better than anyone you know.

Maybe you can remember every lyric to every song you loved as a child.

Maybe you are good at making people laugh.

Maybe you are good at listening.

Maybe you show up when everyone else disappears.

Give yourself credit.

Start Small

Start small today.

Maybe your curls are popping.

Maybe your outfit fits perfectly.

Maybe you finished something you had been avoiding.

Maybe you spoke up for yourself.

Maybe you rested when your body needed rest.

Maybe you made someone smile.

Find something about yourself that you can celebrate.

Something you did.

Something you are capable of doing.

Something about the way you look.

Something about the person you are.

Then say:

I did that.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was recognizing that I do not have to feel negatively about everything I do.

I do good things.

I do big things.

I do small things.

I show up.

I am allowed to give myself credit for that.

Tomorrow, I want to wake up and tell myself:

You have got this.

This day has nothing on you.

You are going to make it through.

Then I want to get up and do exactly that.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Controlling Me: When Control Feels Safer Than Uncertainty

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Do you ever wonder which things you do are actually based on protecting yourself?

I do not mean the things that truly keep you safe.

I mean the things that make you feel protected, even when they do not really protect you at all.

For me, I control my surroundings.

I control my environment.

I overplan.

I overthink.

I like everything to have its own place.

I like things to fit inside the boxes I have created for them.

And when something does not fit inside the box, I do not become less controlling.

I become more controlling.

I become more anxious.

I start trying to fix everything around me because I do not know how to fix what is happening inside me.

When You Pretend You Are Not Bothered

Last night, I was talking to a friend.

I laughed.

I joked.

I acted like everything was fine.

But on the inside, I did not like the way the conversation was going.

Instead of saying that, I continued joking as though I was not bothered.

By the time I finally tried to correct it, I felt like I was bothering them.

Maybe if I had been able to regulate my emotions by myself, it would not have become such a big deal.

But last night, I could not do that.

Going to bed was difficult.

I was anxious.

I was picking at myself.

I was close to tears.

I knew I needed to calm down, but knowing what you need to do and being able to do it are not always the same thing.

It is simple when a thought comes and then leaves.

Rumination does not work that way.

The thought comes.

It stays.

Then it replays itself over and over again.

When Your Mind Never Shuts Off

Eventually, I fell asleep.

I woke up a few times, but I was able to go back to sleep.

I got up on time for work.

I took a shower.

And almost immediately, the thoughts returned.

Although I technically slept, my mind never stopped working.

I woke up exhausted.

All day, I replayed the conversation.

I went over every word.

Every pause.

Every change in tone.

Every possible meaning.

What should have been a simple conversation became a mess in my head.

I questioned what was said.

I questioned how it was said.

I questioned whether I understood it correctly.

I questioned whether the other person understood me correctly.

I questioned what they meant, what I meant, and whether either of us meant what the other person heard.

That is exhausting.

Sometimes emotional exhaustion has nothing to do with how much sleep you got.

Sometimes you are tired because your brain has been running a marathon while the rest of your body was lying still.

I Wanted Everything to Be Perfect

Today, I wanted all the schedules.

I wanted everything organized.

I wanted everything to be perfect.

But I did not know how to make that happen.

I wished I could clean my life the way I clean a chalkboard.

Just wipe everything away.

Erase the mess.

Start over with a clean surface.

Yesterday, I talked about rewriting your story.

I talked about starting a new page and choosing to do something differently.

I still believe that.

But last night, I could not do it.

I do not pretend that I am perfect.

I do not pretend that I have all the answers.

And I definitely do not pretend that the answers I have always work for me.

Knowing the right thing does not mean you will always be emotionally capable of doing it.

Doing the Journal Early

Today was hard.

All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the blankets over my head, and cry.

I was fighting the urge to do that, but I did not know how well I was fighting it.

Normally, I record my journal podcast at night.

Today, there was still light outside the window.

It was a little after four in the afternoon, and I was already sitting down to record because I was not sure I would have the mindset to do it later.

It was important for me to show up.

Not only because I made a commitment to do this every day.

I needed to journal because this is one of the ways I process my feelings.

Sometimes showing up early, differently, or imperfectly is still showing up.

I Did Not Know What Was Real

In that moment, I felt unbelievably sad.

I felt scared.

And I did not know which parts of what I was thinking were real and which parts had been amplified by my emotions.

I understand things through emotion.

That is how my brain makes sense of the world.

When someone says they love me, those are not just words.

The words carry weight.

But I also have to remember that the words may not carry the same meaning to someone else that they carry to me.

My definition may not be their definition.

When someone says they choose me, I hear:

You are important.

If you were lined up beside everyone else, I would still choose you.

But maybe that is not exactly what they mean.

And when the meaning does not match what I expected, my brain does not question one small thing.

It questions everything.

When One Moment Becomes Everything

When something goes wrong, everything feels wrong.

I can take one small moment and turn it into something much bigger.

I do not want to do that.

I do not choose to do it.

But I know I do it.

In therapy, we call it catastrophizing.

I am extremely good at that.

The thought starts small:

You said it depends on what you would choose me for.

Then my brain turns it into:

That means you would not choose me.

You have excuses not to choose me.

If you have excuses not to choose me, then you do not want me.

If you do not want me, then you do not love me.

If you do not love me, then you do not care.

And if you do not care, then maybe I do not matter.

That is how quickly the spiral happens.

One sentence becomes an entire story.

One feeling becomes proof.

One uncertain moment becomes a permanent conclusion.

But I can feel something deeply and still be wrong about what it means.

Feelings Are Real, but They Are Not Always Facts

I recognize that I can feel unwanted without actually being unwanted.

I can feel unloved without being unloved.

I can feel abandoned without anyone leaving me.

The feeling is still real.

The pain is still real.

But the conclusion my brain reaches may not be true.

Sometimes I am my own biggest enemy because I hear these thoughts and immediately want to make decisions based on them.

Life-changing decisions.

I want to cut everyone off.

I want to disappear.

I want to isolate myself.

I decide I cannot trust anyone.

And in the moment, those decisions feel logical.

That is why I have to slow down.

A painful feeling does not always require an immediate action.

When You Do Not Know How to Explain It

A friend asked how I was doing today.

I told her I felt off.

She asked whether I wanted to talk about it.

I said no.

Not really.

Not at the moment.

It was not that I did not want to talk.

I did not know how.

How do you explain that someone said one thing, but you heard ten other things underneath it?

How do you explain that nothing terrible may have happened, but your body and mind are reacting as though everything has fallen apart?

I was trying to process it.

I was trying to talk myself through it logically.

I knew what I was supposed to do.

But I was still struggling.

And typical me, instead of talking to someone, I tried to deal with it by myself.

Why I Control the Small Things

My husband often tells me that I control everything.

In my mind, I do not control everything.

I control lots of small things.

I do not get to control the big things.

I cannot control how other people feel.

I cannot control whether someone disappoints me.

I cannot control whether someone leaves.

I cannot control whether I am chosen.

But controlling small things feels safe.

If I make the decision, I cannot be surprised.

If I never give someone the opportunity to disappoint me, then I cannot be disappointed.

If I control it, I already know how it will turn out.

I do not have to wait.

I do not have to wonder.

I do not have to trust.

Control becomes a shield against uncertainty.

It is not always a good shield.

But it is one I know how to hold.

My Emotional-Support Pens

I think this is one reason I collect the things I collect.

I collect pens and notebooks.

I do not always use them.

I like to keep them pristine.

I like to keep them in their boxes.

I like seeing the colors displayed neatly.

They have to stay perfect.

Something about their perfection makes me feel better.

They are something I can control.

If one stops working, I can buy another one.

They can be replaced.

Do I actually replace my pens?

Not really.

I keep telling myself I will donate some to someone who needs them.

Apparently, I am the person who needs them.

I saw someone online call them emotional-support pens.

They were probably joking.

But my pens are absolutely emotional-support pens.

When I go to work, I take the things I truly need.

My tablet.

My charger.

Then I also take a bag of pens.

A bag of notebooks.

And several books I know I probably will not touch.

They may never leave the car.

But I know they are there.

That makes me feel better.

Safety Does Not Always Look Logical

A bag of pens and notebooks does not actually protect me from anything.

I know that.

But it is tactile.

I can touch it.

I can see it.

I can know it is there.

When everything inside me feels wrong, having one thing that feels right matters.

Sometimes our safety items do not make logical sense to anyone else.

Maybe it is a notebook.

A blanket.

A familiar cup.

A specific routine.

A song.

A collection.

The object may not solve the problem.

But sometimes it reminds your nervous system that something is still familiar.

Something is still where you left it.

Something has not changed.

Today I Felt Wrong

I have been taught many times that everything is not right or wrong.

Everything is not good or bad.

There are spaces in between.

I know that.

But today, I felt bad.

I felt wrong.

Days like that are difficult.

I could have gotten on camera and pretended I had a wonderful day.

I could have made something up.

I could have acted like everything was fine.

But I do not want to do that.

What you see is what you get.

And today, what you got was someone who felt defeated.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Someone who believed she had somebody in her corner.

Someone who believed she was important to another person.

And for a moment, it felt like maybe that was not true.

No one actually told me that.

No one hinted at it.

But it was how I felt.

When Your Worth Depends on Other People

Today, I felt like I was losing my best friend.

And in feeling like I was losing my best friend, I felt like I was losing myself.

My self-worth is often tied to what other people think of me.

That is something I cannot control.

So when I cannot control how someone feels about me, I control something else.

I make lists.

I make plans.

I organize.

I clean.

I do laundry when it is not laundry day.

And I have a laundry day.

I walk the dogs.

I find physical tasks that keep my hands busy.

Sometimes I am doing things because they need to be done.

Sometimes I am doing them because I do not want to feel.

I do not want to think.

I want the motion to become louder than the thoughts.

Fighting an Invisible War

Sometimes it works.

Sometimes life still gets the best of me.

The difficult thing about fighting an internal battle is that no one else can hear it.

No one knows what is happening inside your head.

No one hears the conversations.

They do not hear the arguments.

They do not hear the cruel comments.

Today, the voices in my head were loud.

They were hurtful.

And I knew that hiding alone in my room was not what I needed.

So I sat down and wrote in my journal instead.

Sometimes we have to do the hard things.

Today, the hard thing was feeling my feelings without letting them decide what I did next.

A Bad Moment Is Not Always a Bad Day

My bite of pie today was recognizing that something felt wrong and still doing the hard things.

I wanted to lie in bed and hide.

But I knew that was not what I needed.

I got up.

I went to work.

I had a good day with my client.

I took myself to brunch.

I had coffee.

The entire day was not bad.

I was having a bad moment.

Sometimes I have to remind myself of the difference.

I may feel bad right now.

I may feel sad.

I may feel hurt.

But right now is not forever.

This is not an everyday feeling.

It is a feeling I am having today, in this moment.

That matters.

I Do Not Pretend It Is Easy

Tomorrow, I get to write a new page.

I can start over if I need to.

I will never tell you that it is easy.

I will never pretend that I always have everything together.

I will not pretend that every coping skill works every time.

Sometimes the advice is good and the tool is helpful, but your brain is simply not ready to cooperate.

That does not mean the tool failed forever.

It means today was hard.

And I know I cannot be the only person who feels this way.

I cannot be the only person who drowns in the voices inside their head.

I cannot be the only person who feels deeply hurt when they do not hear something the way they needed to hear it.

You Never Know What Someone Is Fighting

We never truly know what is happening inside another person.

It is easy to dismiss their feelings because the problem seems small to us.

Someone else might look at my situation and decide it is not a big deal.

They may believe my problems are not serious.

They may think my trauma is not important because someone else has experienced worse.

Sometimes I do that to myself.

I convince myself that because another person is suffering more, I do not deserve to be heard.

So I hide.

I shrink.

I sink away.

But another person’s pain does not make your pain imaginary.

Someone else having a harder day does not mean your day is easy.

We can make space for more than one person to hurt.

I Want You to Feel Seen

Today, I hope you hear me.

I hope you see me.

Not only because I want to be heard and seen.

I want you to know that you deserve to be heard and seen too.

Maybe your internal battle does not make sense to anyone else.

Maybe you cannot find the words to explain it.

Maybe you know your feelings are not telling you the whole truth, but you still cannot make them stop.

You are not weak for struggling.

You are not bad because your mind became loud.

You are not failing because your coping skills did not work perfectly today.

Sometimes your job is not to solve everything.

Sometimes your job is simply to stay present long enough for the moment to pass.

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Argumentative Me: When the Voice in Your Head Won’t Stop Fighting You

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever had an argument with yourself based entirely on the thoughts in your head?

You go back and forth over a decision.

You question what you said.

You question what you did.

You question whether you are good enough, helpful enough, lovable enough, or worthy of the people in your life.

My brain likes to battle both sides of every equation.

Am I good enough to have certain people in my life?

Is my presence more helpful to them or more helpful to me?

Is it better for my husband if I stay, or would it be better if I walked away?

Is it helpful to have my kiddo in my home?

Everything becomes an argument.

And the frustrating part is that I am usually the person arguing against myself.

When Your Mind Builds a Case Against You

Sometimes, arguing with yourself can feel productive.

You are looking at both sides.

You are considering the consequences.

You are trying to make a thoughtful decision.

But there is a difference between considering both sides and allowing your brain to put your worth on trial.

The argument often sounds like:

I am not good enough because I am not doing enough.

I am not worthy because I do not have a job right now.

I am not helpful because I have not accomplished everything I planned.

I am not enough because my life does not currently look the way I think it should.

But are we defined by the things we can change and refuse to work on?

Or are we defined by the things we can change and are actively trying to improve?

There is a difference.

Not being where you want to be does not automatically mean you are doing nothing.

Trying counts.

Taking steps counts.

Recognizing that something needs to change counts.

You Don’t Get to Decide How Someone Else Feels About You

One of the strangest things we do is argue with people when they tell us how they feel about us.

Someone says:

You are good enough for me.

You matter to me.

I love you.

I enjoy having you in my life.

And we respond:

No, you don’t.

No, I’m not.

You are wrong.

But imagine how annoying it would be if someone tried to tell you how you felt.

Imagine saying, “I care about you,” and having them respond, “No, you don’t.”

You would probably think:

Excuse me?

I know how I feel.

You do not get to decide that for me.

And yet, we do this to other people all the time.

They tell us we are worthy of their love, attention, or friendship, and we argue as if their feelings need our approval.

Sometimes Other People See Us More Clearly

One of the most important lessons I learned while working in a mental health facility came from a thirteen-year-old.

She was trying to convince me that I was worth loving.

At the time, I did not always believe that about myself.

Several of the kids told me that what I saw in myself was not what they saw in me.

And one of them reminded me that just because I did not believe something did not mean she did not believe it.

That stayed with me.

Would I rather believe the people who were looking at me and telling me that I mattered?

Or would I rather believe the voice in my head that was committed to tearing me down?

Sometimes the people around us see things we cannot see because our mental health distorts the view.

It is easy to convince ourselves that the cruelest voice must be the most honest one.

It is not.

Giving Advice Is Easier Than Taking It

It is easy to give other people grace.

We can look at someone who is struggling and say:

You are doing your best.

You deserve love.

You are not defined by your worst decision.

You are allowed to start over.

You are more than your current circumstances.

But when it comes to ourselves, suddenly the rules change.

We decide we do not deserve the same patience.

We do not deserve the same understanding.

We do not deserve the same grace.

We can recognize another person’s pain without judgment, then turn around and punish ourselves for having the exact same pain.

Why?

Why are we willing to be kind to everyone except ourselves?

Say the Argument Out Loud

One reason I do this podcast is because I know what happens when I sit alone with my thoughts.

They go wild.

I can convince myself of almost anything if I allow the argument to stay inside my head long enough.

But when I say the thought out loud, something changes.

The words become real.

I can hear how harsh they sound.

I can hear when they do not make sense.

I can hear when I am holding myself to a standard I would never use against another person.

So when you feel yourself arguing with yourself and the negative side is winning, try saying the argument out loud.

Say:

I do not think I am good enough because I do not have a job right now.

Then answer yourself:

Not having a job right now does not mean I am not worthy. I am applying. I am trying. I am working on changing the situation.

Say:

I have made mistakes, so I must be a bad person.

Then answer yourself:

Making a bad decision does not mean every part of me is bad.

Sometimes hearing the thought is enough to show you that it does not deserve as much power as you have given it.

Your Past Is Not Your Permanent Identity

I struggle with questioning myself based on things I have experienced or done in the past.

My brain will say:

You made that decision years ago.

That is why your life looks like this now.

You are stuck.

You do not deserve better because you should have known better then.

But just because something happened in the past does not mean the person I am today is still living in that moment.

We often act as though one bad decision should determine the rest of our lives.

It should not.

You made a decision.

Maybe it was the wrong one.

Maybe you regret it.

Maybe it changed your life.

That does not mean you are required to keep making the same decision forever.

Today Is Another Page in the Story

This is why I say that today is another page in the story.

Every day gives you another opportunity to write something different.

Maybe you are not working right now.

Tomorrow, you can apply for another job.

You can apply to school.

You can make a phone call.

You can fill out one form.

You can take one step.

That is a different page.

It does not erase everything that happened before it.

It simply means the next page does not have to repeat the last one.

We forget that we are holding the pen.

Sometimes we act as though the story has already been written and we are trapped inside it.

But we are not bound to repeat the same day forever.

If you overslept today, you can set the alarm earlier tomorrow.

If you avoided something today, you can face one piece of it tomorrow.

If you made a mistake today, you can choose differently the next time.

You do not have to rewrite the entire book in one night.

You only have to write the next page differently.

Mental Health Is Eaten One Bite at a Time

Mental health is a lot like eating a chocolate cake.

You cannot shove the whole cake into your mouth at once.

At least, I would not recommend trying.

You eat it one bite at a time.

Healing works the same way.

Some days, the bite is big.

You go to therapy.

You have a difficult conversation with a parent.

You talk to your spouse.

You work through something painful with your child.

You make a major decision.

Other days, the bite is much smaller.

You get out of bed.

You take a shower.

You brush your teeth.

You answer one message.

You survive the day without falling apart.

That still counts.

A small bite does not make you less of a person.

It simply means that was the amount you could manage that day.

Life Can Be Hard Without Looking Hard

Society likes to decide what qualifies as a difficult life.

People say:

You do not pay bills, so what do you have to be stressed about?

You do not have a job, so what are you tired from?

You are young, so how hard could your life really be?

But life can be hard without bills.

Life can be hard without a job.

Life can be hard while you are still in school.

Life can simply be hard.

We do not give people enough credit for carrying emotional weight that cannot be seen.

We expect people to turn their mental health on and off based on what is convenient for everyone else.

That does not make sense.

If you are physically sick, people understand why you may need rest.

If you are mentally unwell, suddenly they expect you to smile, work, socialize, and behave as though nothing is happening.

But mental health does not stay contained inside one person.

Attitudes can spread.

Pain can spread.

Stress can spread.

When someone is struggling, it affects the way they interact with the people around them.

That does not make them bad.

It means mental health deserves to be taken seriously.

What if You Argued for Yourself?

What would happen if you played devil’s advocate in your own favor?

Instead of arguing:

I am not good enough for the people in my life.

What if you said:

Maybe I am good enough.

Maybe I bring more to their lives than I realize.

Maybe I make them laugh.

Maybe I listen.

Maybe I help.

Maybe they answer the phone because they genuinely want to talk to me.

Maybe the conversation matters to them too.

We are quick to assume we are a burden.

But what if the person smiled the entire time they talked to you?

What if they laughed?

What if they answered your call when they did not have to?

What if they gave you access to their life because you mean something to them?

We notice every sign that someone might not want us.

We rarely give the same attention to the signs that show they do.

Give Yourself Credit for the Good

I am good at helping other people see things in themselves that they cannot see.

I can look at someone who is struggling and remind them of their strength.

I can show them the good they overlook.

I can help them understand that their worst moment is not their entire identity.

I am not always good at doing that for myself.

Some days, I convince myself I have not done enough.

But today, I got up.

I went to work.

I met my new client.

I helped a mother feel seen.

We had coffee.

I did good things.

Maybe they were not world-changing.

But for the people I interacted with, they may have been life-changing.

When do we give ourselves credit for that?

Not often enough.

We dismiss our impact because it does not feel big enough.

But making one person feel seen matters.

Making someone laugh matters.

Listening matters.

Answering the phone matters.

Showing up matters.

Your Inner Voice Is Not the Only Voice

The voice in your head may be loud.

It may be convincing.

It may know every insecurity, every mistake, and every painful memory.

But it is not the only voice.

There are people who see you differently.

There are people who value your presence.

There are people who believe you are worthy even when you do not.

There are people whose lives are better because you are in them.

You do not have to accept every cruel thought simply because it came from your own mind.

You can question it.

You can answer it.

You can say it out loud and hear whether it actually makes sense.

You can decide that the negative voice does not get to write the entire story.

The argument may not disappear.

But you can stop allowing it to win automatically.

What argument have you been having with yourself?

Are you questioning whether you are enough?

Are you judging yourself by where you are, or are you giving yourself credit for the steps you are taking?

Are you allowing your past to define your future?

Are you arguing with people when they tell you that you matter?

What would happen if, just for today, you argued for yourself?

Today is another page in the story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Curious Me: When Curiosity Becomes a Search for Reassurance

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever felt the need to dive into something even when you knew you probably shouldn’t?

You become overly invested.

You ask one question, and that question leads to another question. Before you know it, you have gone down an entire rabbit hole that may or may not have been good for you.

I do that a lot.

I have convinced myself that the more I know, the better I can move.

The more information I have, the more prepared I will be.

Although, if I am being honest, that is not always true.

Sometimes, the more I know, the more things I have to overthink.

I love documentaries. Not reality television, necessarily, but real-life documentaries.

I love learning about stories that have happened to people, especially when they happened near where I live.

Not because I am morbid.

The stories just scratch an itch in my brain.

I want to understand what happened.

Why it happened.

How it happened.

What decisions were made that led everyone to that exact moment.

But today, I realized my curiosity is not only about understanding other people.

A lot of the time, I am trying to understand myself.

When Curiosity Becomes Personal

I have been doing a lot of writing today.

That writing has caused me to revisit situations involving relationships, cheating, past experiences, and all the things that come along with them.

The more I dive into those situations, the more interested I become.

Then my curiosity leaves the story and walks directly into my real life.

It becomes:

How did this start?

Where did it start?

Why did you do it that way?

What were you thinking?

What does that mean about our relationship?

And what does that mean about me?

If you are asking from a place of pure curiosity, those questions may be harmless.

But with my mental health, it does not always work that way.

Sometimes, I ask a question because I think I want the answer.

Then I receive the answer and get offended because it was not the answer I wanted.

I tell people all the time to be careful what they ask because they may not like the answer.

And then I am the first person to ask a question and become upset when I do not like what I hear.

Begging for Scraps

Today, I was watching my dogs beg for scraps.

They know they have already been fed.

They have food.

They are not starving.

But the minute I sit down with something, they stare at me as if they have never eaten a meal in their entire lives.

And I had this strange thought.

How many times have I done the exact same thing?

How many times have I begged for scraps from another person?

A scrap of affection.

A scrap of attention.

A scrap of time.

Just whatever little piece they were willing to throw toward me.

I can look back at relationships where my needs were clearly not being met.

But I stayed because they smiled at me one day.

They said something kind once.

They gave me one small moment that felt good.

And my brain said:

See?

They are capable of giving you what you need.

You just have to stay long enough for them to do it again.

Why do our brains do that?

Why does one good moment suddenly become proof that everything will eventually change?

Why do we allow one gesture to erase an entire pattern?

The One Time They Were Nice

I know I am not the only person who has done this.

People talk about how unhappy they are.

They talk about how rough the relationship has become.

They explain how difficult their partner is.

And then they stay.

Because there was that one time the person did something nice.

So they are capable of being nice.

Therefore, maybe they should stay.

But one nice moment does not erase neglect.

It does not erase inconsistency.

It does not erase the way someone makes you feel the rest of the time.

A person being capable of doing something does not mean they are willing to do it consistently.

And consistency matters.

We Cannot Save Everyone

When did we decide that we had the power to change somebody else?

When did we decide we could save them?

If somebody is drowning, you help pull them out of the water.

If somebody is not breathing, you give them CPR.

But if somebody does not feel like you are good enough for them, there is no saving that.

If somebody treats you like shit, there is no amount of love you can pour into them that guarantees they will stop.

You do not have the power to save someone from the way they feel about you.

And yet, I try.

I become fixated on solving the problem.

How do I make them like me?

How do I make them want me?

How do I become the person they choose?

I know I do not have control over any of that.

And yet, I still hold on to the fight as if I am going to win some kind of prize.

But what exactly am I winning?

If I have to convince you to love me, what is the prize?

If I have to convince you to spend time with me, what did I actually earn?

If I have to make myself smaller, quieter, easier, prettier, less emotional, or less needy just to keep you, did I really win?

I Want to Be Chosen

I want to live in a world where the person who wants to be with me wants to be with me by choice.

I want to be chosen.

There is a difference between needing someone and wanting someone.

Years ago, I believed I needed a partner.

I felt like I could not survive emotionally without one.

Then I experienced a relationship where I did not need the person.

I wanted them.

And to me, that felt so much more valuable.

Needing me could mean that once you learn how to survive without me, I become useless.

Wanting me means that even though you are perfectly capable of living without me, you still want me beside you.

Somewhere along the way, I lost that plot.

I decided that whatever someone was willing to give me was what I had to accept.

I do not know when I decided that scraps were as good as it gets.

Soulmates and Different Kinds of Love

I have also been thinking about the difference between soulmates, lovers, and the love of your life.

I believe I found my soulmate years ago.

I will die on that hill.

To me, a soulmate is that one person where the connection does not make logical sense.

It simply exists.

It feels cosmic.

Magical.

Like you see each other so specifically that you learn things about yourself you may never have discovered without them.

But because I had already given someone the title of soulmate, I struggled to understand how I could ever love anyone else.

If I had already met my soulmate, did that make everyone who came afterward less than?

Could I possibly love somebody else as deeply if they did not have that title?

For a long time, I thought the answer was no.

But that was not true.

I have loved deeply since then.

The love was different.

But different does not automatically mean less.

Apparently, love has more than one shape.

Who knew?

The Titles We Give People

I have a hard time recycling titles.

I cannot look one person in the face and call them my husband, then turn around and call somebody else my husband without my brain questioning it.

The title belonged to that person.

The same thing happens with pet names.

If you were Babe, then my brain struggles with calling somebody else Babe.

It feels like the word should mean something specific.

So when I had already given one person the title of soulmate, I thought that meant there was no room for anybody else.

But maybe a title does not have to erase the love that came before it.

And maybe a different kind of love does not have to compete with it.

Struggling With Being the Second Wife

I struggle with being the second wife.

My husband has been married before.

He made promises before.

I assume that when he made those promises the first time, he meant them.

And yet, those promises were broken.

So my brain asks:

If those promises were broken before, what are the chances they will be broken with me?

If he already believed he found forever, how can I be forever too?

Logically, I know people can have second, third, or fourth marriages that are healthier and stronger than the relationships that came before.

I understand that.

Emotionally, it is harder to convince myself.

And that is what my curiosity does sometimes.

It takes the simplest fact and turns it into an entire trial.

Evidence.

Cross-examination.

Closing arguments.

All happening inside my head.

Why Does Love Need a Ranking?

When someone tells me they love me, my brain immediately asks:

What does that look like?

How much do you love me?

Do you love me more than your favorite food?

Would you choose me over somebody else?

Where do I rank?

Why does there even need to be a ranking?

I do not know.

There is someone I love who once told me that if I showed up in town while he was with another woman, he would tell her goodbye because I was there.

And I cannot explain how special that made me feel.

It told me I mattered.

It told me I was important enough for someone to stop what they were doing and choose me.

The sad part is, I already knew he loved me.

He should not have had to compare me to somebody else to prove it.

I do not believe I was asking him to prove anything.

But there is something in me that feels safer when I hear that I would be chosen over everyone else.

And that makes me curious.

Why do I need that validation?

Why can I not simply trust that I am loved?

Why does love feel more believable when it is compared to something else?

Loving Someone More Than Mexican Food

In my defense, if I tell you I love you more than Mexican food, that means something.

My friends and family understand how serious that statement is.

I love Mexican food.

Like, love it.

So if I put you on the same platform as Mexican food, that is high praise.

Potatoes too.

Apparently, I think in terms of food.

We are not going to judge me tonight.

But the point is, why?

Why can somebody tell me they love me and my first thought is:

Do they though?

But if they compare me to something else or say they would choose me over another person, suddenly I believe it.

Be Careful What You Ask

Sometimes, the question itself is the problem.

I once asked my husband, “When you do not want me, what do you do?”

In my head, I thought it was going to become a joke.

I expected him to give me a silly answer, and we would laugh.

That is not what happened.

He said, “Well, you just kept telling me no.”

And those words did not hit the way either of us expected.

He explained what he meant.

He said he was trying, and he did not know what else to do.

But by then, I had already processed the first answer.

That was my fault.

I was curious.

I could have asked a better question.

I could have phrased it differently.

I may have believed I was joking, but just because you think something is a joke does not make it funny.

Intent and impact are two different things.

You can intend to laugh with someone and still hurt their feelings.

If I can apologize because I accidentally stepped on someone’s foot, I can apologize when I accidentally hurt their feelings.

I do not get to say, “You are too sensitive,” simply because I did not mean for it to hurt.

I Do Not Have the Answer Tonight

I do not have an answer to tonight’s question.

And I am learning that I do not always need one.

That is not how journals work.

Sometimes journaling is simply taking all the thoughts rolling around in your head and placing them somewhere outside of you.

You can examine them later.

Tonight, I know that I am curious.

I know that sometimes I dive deeper than I need to.

I know I ask questions without always being prepared for the answers.

And I know that sometimes my curiosity is not really curiosity.

Sometimes it is insecurity wearing glasses and carrying a clipboard.

Sometimes it is fear trying to collect enough information to guarantee I will never be hurt again.

But no amount of information can promise me that.

Begging for What I Already Have

I am learning that sometimes I am needier than I want to admit.

Like my dogs begging for food when I know they have already eaten.

Sometimes I beg for things I already have.

I beg for love that has already been given to me.

I beg for time from someone who is already sitting beside me.

I beg to be chosen by someone who has already made a choice.

Maybe I am not always searching for more.

Maybe I am searching for reassurance that what I already have will not disappear.

I am enjoying learning about myself.

Even when the answers are uncomfortable.

Even when I do not find an answer at all.

And I appreciate you coming along for the ride while I learn what makes me, me.

I hope that while I am asking these questions, you are asking yourself a few too.

Why do you seek validation?

Are you begging for scraps from someone who has shown you they are unwilling to give you a full meal?

Are you trying to convince someone to choose you?

Are you asking questions because you truly want the answer?

Or are you hoping the answer will calm a fear you have not yet addressed?

Are you struggling to believe in love that is already sitting right in front of you?

You do not have to answer every question tonight.

Just remain curious.

Today is just another page in your story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Rejected Me: When Rejection Doesn’t Sound Like “No”

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

How many times a day would you say you feel rejected?

Maybe someone tells you no, and you can accept that. No is clear. No gives you an answer.

But sometimes rejection doesn’t sound like no.

Sometimes it is the tone in which someone says yes.

Sometimes it is the joke made at your expense. The comment someone claims you misunderstood. The favor someone agrees to do while making it painfully obvious that they don’t want to do it.

Sometimes rejection is not about the words being said at all. It is about the attitude and spirit in which they are delivered.

Today, I found myself going through some old memories. I realized that some of the moments that made me feel the most rejected were not moments when someone openly told me I wasn’t wanted.

They were moments when someone technically accepted me while making it clear that they wished they didn’t have to.

When Acceptance Still Feels Like Rejection

A long time ago, way back when I was in my twenties, I dated a guy for nearly five years.

At some point, we became engaged.

I remember his dad’s response to the engagement. He said that fifty percent of interracial marriages end in divorce.

He didn’t tell his son not to marry me.

He didn’t say I wasn’t good enough.

He didn’t openly say that my race made me an inappropriate choice.

He simply offered a statistic that he believed was a valid reason to be concerned.

But it felt like rejection.

It was hard to sit with the idea that my race somehow made me less equipped to marry someone. I couldn’t understand what being Black had to do with my ability to love his son, support him, or build a life with him.

I still don’t.

There have been other moments when people have made jokes about me being an “angry Black woman.”

They assume I must yell at my husband. They assume I am aggressive. They assume my husband must be afraid of me.

But I don’t yell at my husband.

I talk to him. He either talks to me or he doesn’t.

People see one part of me and decide that they already know the rest.

That feels like rejection too.

I’m not even approaching this strictly from a racism standpoint. I am talking about how rejecting it feels when someone sees you and immediately decides who you are before taking the time to know you.

You have to be brave, bold, and a little dumb to believe you can understand an entire person based on their race, gender, body, diagnosis, or any other single piece of them.

It Was Supposed to Be a Joke

I once heard someone joke about what they would do to a person who crossed a line with their spouse.

They described themselves as the extremely jealous type. The kind of person who might hurt somebody for talking to the person they loved.

Someone responded by saying they should introduce their spouse to that person’s spouse.

It was supposed to be funny.

But it didn’t feel funny.

It felt like someone was saying their spouse wasn’t important. That they weren’t needed. That they were disposable.

That they were trash.

And naturally, you reject trash.

People make jokes without thinking about what the joke is actually saying. They don’t recognize that underneath the laughter, they may be telling someone:

I don’t value you.

I don’t respect you.

I would be fine if you disappeared.

You are not worth protecting.

Intent does not override impact.

Someone may not intend to reject you, but that does not mean you don’t get to feel rejected.

Rejection Makes You Question Your Worth

We are all familiar with obvious rejection.

You ask someone out, and they say they aren’t interested.

They tell you they are already in a relationship.

They tell you that you aren’t their type.

That is rejection, even when it is delivered respectfully.

People are allowed to have preferences. They are allowed to say no. They are allowed to decide that you are not the person for them.

But just because someone has the right to reject you doesn’t mean you lose the right to feel hurt by it.

Rejection hurts because it often sounds like:

You are not good enough.

You are not attractive enough.

You are not smart enough.

You are not lovable enough.

You are simply not enough.

That is where rejection becomes dangerous. It stops being one person’s decision and becomes evidence in the case you have been building against yourself.

Learning Rejection as a Child

For me, rejection started when I was a little girl.

It is hard to spread your attention evenly across seven children. I understand that now.

But understanding something does not erase how it felt.

Rejection looked like my parents attending my sister’s basketball games religiously but not coming to my track meets.

It looked like my mom coming home excited about going to the movies and asking me to find the showtime.

I would look it up for her.

Then she would tell me she was taking my sister.

I’m not saying her intention was to hurt me. She was trying to do something good for my sister.

But I still felt rejected.

I felt less loved.

Less cared for.

Less important.

Less than.

Intent does not override impact.

Children don’t always have the language to explain what is happening inside them. They simply collect the moments.

They collect every missed event, every comparison, every invitation they didn’t receive, and every time someone else appeared to be chosen over them.

Eventually, those moments begin to tell a story.

The story becomes: Nobody chooses me.

And once you believe that, you begin looking for proof everywhere.

The Fear of Having My Work Rejected

I had my husband read something I wrote today.

He read it. He liked it. He gave me feedback, and his critiques were spot-on. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he said.

But my first questions were still:

Did you like it?

Are you sure you liked it?

Was the writing good?

He had already answered me, but I needed him to answer again.

My biggest fear was that he would reject it.

When I share something I have written, I am not just sharing words. I am sharing a piece of myself. If someone rejects the writing, it can feel like they are rejecting me.

I become so focused on whether other people will accept me—or a piece of me—that I struggle to trust acceptance when it is offered.

Even when someone says yes, a part of me waits for the no.

The Ways I Fear Being Rejected

I live with depression, anxiety, and OCD.

I often worry that those parts of me will become the reason someone decides not to like me.

I worry that my mental health will be viewed as a character flaw.

I prepare myself to be rejected for being too emotional, too anxious, too complicated, or too much.

I don’t always prepare myself to be rejected because of my race or gender.

And yet, it happens far more often than it should.

Sometimes people reject who they have decided you are without ever taking the time to learn who you actually are.

But the hardest rejection is not always the rejection that comes from other people.

Sometimes the hardest rejection comes from me.

I Reject Myself First

I think I reject myself more than anyone else rejects me.

While recording the episode that inspired this blog post, I could see my reflection. I barely looked at it because I didn’t like what I saw.

My hair looked messy, although it was simply my hair.

My arms looked fat.

My dress felt too low, so I kept pulling it up.

I thought I looked like a mess.

I didn’t think I looked professional.

I didn’t think I looked like someone I would take advice from.

There was nothing inherently wrong with how I looked.

I just didn’t like it.

I rejected myself before anyone else had the opportunity.

How many times have you done that?

How many times have you decided that people won’t like you before they meet you?

How many times have you refused to apply, post the picture, wear the outfit, share your work, or speak up because you already decided the answer would be no?

Sometimes we reject ourselves in an attempt to protect ourselves.

We think it will hurt less if we say no first.

It doesn’t.

What Do We Do With Rejection?

How do you overcome feeling rejected?

How do you convince yourself that you are not less than?

We are told that we are supposed to have confidence. We are supposed to believe we are good enough exactly as we are.

But that is difficult when the mirror being held up to you repeatedly says the opposite.

For me, combating rejection requires intentionally reminding myself of what I do well.

I am good at talking.

I am good at writing.

I am good at singing.

I am creative.

I am extremely intelligent.

I can dress well when I want to.

Those things do not stop being true simply because I am having a bad day or because someone else fails to see them.

The Two-Minute Exercise

I often give my kids an exercise when their headspace tells them to reject everything about themselves.

I give them two minutes to write down everything they like about themselves.

Then I give them one minute to write down everything they don’t like.

It is amazing—and honestly a little heartbreaking—to see how easily we can produce a long list of things we dislike in half the time.

That speaks volumes.

It tells me that something is not showing up the way it should.

We should not be better at identifying everything wrong with us than we are at recognizing everything good.

I completed the exercise with my kids once, and I didn’t like what appeared on my own list.

I’m not a bad person.

I know that.

But my list showed me how quickly I turn against myself.

So I challenge you to make your own list.

Give yourself two minutes to write everything you like about yourself.

Then give yourself one minute to write down the things you don’t.

Look at both lists.

Pay attention to what appears.

Pay attention to whether the things you dislike are truly problems or simply parts of yourself you were taught not to accept.

Growth Is Not the Same as Rejection

There is nothing wrong with having goals.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to grow, learn, heal, or change your behavior.

But growth and self-rejection are not the same thing.

Every time I have completed that exercise, I have placed “wanting to change myself” on the list of things I don’t like.

And I don’t mean changing harmful behavior or learning to communicate better.

I mean changing my hair.

Changing my body.

Changing my appearance.

Changing parts of myself that I should be allowed to accept and love.

I have spent so much time believing I have to become someone else before I am worthy of acceptance that I am no longer entirely sure what accepting myself is supposed to look like.

But I am trying.

And I would like for you to try too.

Don’t Help the World Reject You

Life wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

We weren’t supposed to immediately hate ourselves.

We weren’t supposed to learn that we weren’t good enough.

We were supposed to believe that we could accomplish anything we wanted.

We were supposed to believe we could take on the world.

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned differently.

We learned to shrink.

We learned to question ourselves.

We learned to reject ourselves before anyone else had the chance.

So today, look for the good in yourself more often than you look for the bad.

Don’t reject yourself.

There are enough people in the world willing to do that for you.

Don’t help them.

Today is just another page in your story. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Dear Anxious Me: When Feeling Unheard Feels Like Being Erased

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever been able to pinpoint the exact moment something made you anxious?

Usually, anxiety feels like it just sneaks up on me. One minute I am fine, and the next minute my thoughts are racing, my body is reacting, and I am desperately trying to figure out what happened.

Today was different.

Today, I knew exactly what triggered it.

I was sitting in my office doing some writing while talking to a friend. She was helping me dive deeper into the story I was trying to tell. She asked all the right questions. She laughed in all the right places. I genuinely believed she understood what I was trying to say.

Then I asked her to tell the story back to me.

It sounded tremendously different.

She meant well. She was doing exactly what I had asked her to do. She was trying to help me.

But in that moment, none of those facts mattered.

All I felt was anxiety.

I felt like she was erasing me.

I felt like she was taking away my voice. Like the story no longer belonged to me. Like I was slowly disappearing while someone else took over.

And I panicked.

When Anxiety Makes Me Shut Down

When I become anxious, I tend to shut down.

I pick at my fingers. I count things around the room. I stare at one object and try to force my mind to slow down. Sometimes I shake my hands as though I can physically shake the anxiety out of my body. Sometimes I rub the same finger repeatedly in an attempt to soothe myself before everything gets out of control.

Sometimes those things help.

Most of the time, they do not.

Today, I tried anyway.

I tried to make the feeling disappear, but it would not go away because underneath the anxiety was something much deeper.

I felt unseen.

I felt unheard.

I felt erased.

The more I sat with that feeling, the more I began to wonder how often my anxiety comes from that exact place.

Not every time. I am not going to pretend that every anxious moment has the same explanation.

But many of them do.

Knowing I Am Loved Does Not Always Make Me Feel Loved

I know there are people who see me.

I know there are people who hear me.

I know there are people who love me.

Those are facts.

Unfortunately, the facts and my emotions do not always agree.

I can know, logically, that someone cares about me and still feel completely alone. I can understand that someone is helping me and still feel hurt by their help. I can hear someone tell me they love me and immediately convince myself they are only saying it to be nice.

That is one of the hardest parts of mental health for me.

My friend had not done anything wrong.

She was being a good friend.

She was helping me because I asked her to help me.

Yet somehow, my mind twisted her kindness into proof that I did not matter.

Her actions said, “I care enough to help you.”

What I heard was, “You are not good enough to tell your own story.”

What I heard was, “You do not matter.”

What I heard was, “You do not exist.”

How do you explain that to someone?

How do you say, “You were only helping me, but somehow it hurt”?

The Stories Anxiety Tells Me

The moment I felt misunderstood, my mind immediately began building a case against me.

Maybe I am not a good writer.

Maybe I am not doing a good job.

Maybe this entire thing is pointless.

Maybe I should stop.

It felt like the whole world came crashing down because one conversation did not sound the way I expected it to.

That is what anxiety can do.

It can take one uncomfortable moment and turn it into evidence that every negative thing you have ever believed about yourself is true.

I know I am a talented writer.

I have published three books. I wrote for my school newspaper. I know how to tell a story. I know how to make people laugh, cry, think, and feel.

Even as I type those words, part of my brain is telling me they are not true.

It tells me that if I were really a great writer, I would have accomplished more by now. People would know my name. People would be talking about my books.

Of course, that thought conveniently ignores the fact that I barely tell anyone about the books I have written.

Anxiety does not care about context.

It does not care about evidence.

The facts mean very little when my emotions are screaming something else.

Learning to Disappear

As I processed everything, I began thinking about where this fear of being erased may have started.

As a child, I taught myself that making the people around me happy was more important than understanding my own feelings.

If I could give them one less thing to worry about—me—then maybe I was making their lives easier.

If I could make them smile, laugh, or feel better, then perhaps they would see me.

Maybe I would not disappear.

I taught myself to be useful.

I taught myself to be easy.

I taught myself to hide the difficult parts so nobody would have to worry about me.

Then I grew up and wondered why I felt invisible.

I spent years teaching myself how to disappear and now feel anxious when I believe someone is erasing me.

That is a hard truth to sit with.

Mental Health Is Full of Contradictions

Mental health is hard.

It is hard to look in the mirror and recognize the physical version of yourself while barely understanding the person living inside your mind.

It is hard to wake up feeling broken and then spend the day pretending you are okay because pretending feels safer.

Nobody worries about you.

Nobody asks difficult questions.

You become one less burden.

And, unfortunately, it is incredibly easy to fool people.

I know how to wear my mask.

I can smile. I can laugh. I can tell someone I am doing great. I can look completely calm while picking at my nails underneath the table.

You cannot hear my racing thoughts.

You cannot see everything happening inside my head.

Sometimes I appear calm while my mind is short-circuiting.

Sometimes I know something is wrong, but I cannot find the words to explain it.

How do you explain something you barely understand yourself?

Feelings Do Not Always Follow Logic

Those of us who struggle with mental health can often identify what something is without understanding why it feels the way it does.

I can see the color yellow and know that it is yellow.

Yellow is supposed to be bright and cheerful. It is my favorite color.

That does not mean it always makes me feel happy.

A black room does not automatically make me sad.

An overcast day with drizzle and thunder is supposed to feel gloomy, but that weather makes me feel creative. I may not want to leave the house, but I become incredibly productive inside it.

Feelings are complicated.

Life is complicated because of the nuances.

I can recognize that someone loves me while struggling to feel loved.

I can know that someone is helping me while feeling harmed.

I can understand that I matter while simultaneously fearing that nobody would notice if I disappeared.

Both realities somehow live inside me at once.

Am I Broken If I Need Medication?

I met with my medication provider today.

Our appointments are normally quick.

He asks how I am doing.

I say I am great.

He says I look better.

I say thank you.

He asks whether anything is new.

I say no.

I wear my mask well.

The truth is that I am doing well. But I also know that if I were struggling, I might not admit it. One of my biggest fears is having my medication increased or having another medication added.

Do I understand that hiding my symptoms would not help me?

Yes.

Do I understand that I need my medication?

Yes.

Once again, those are the facts.

My emotions tell a different story.

My emotions tell me I should not need medicine to be normal.

They tell me I should be good enough the way I am.

They tell me that taking medication means something inside me is broken.

People remind me that I am not broken.

I want to believe them.

But medication is usually taken because something is not working the way it should. That makes it difficult for me not to connect needing medication with something being wrong with me.

I take medication for anxiety. I also have medication I can take when the anxiety becomes overwhelming.

And I still get anxious.

Sometimes I wonder what the point is.

Logically, I understand that medication can reduce how often anxiety happens and how intense it becomes. I understand that it is a tool, not a magical eraser.

Emotionally, I still struggle with needing it.

That is another contradiction I am learning to live with.

The Negative Feeling That Stays

Yesterday, I was processing what it meant to know that I was chosen.

Today, I was anxious because I felt like I did not exist.

It is interesting how easily the negative feeling can override the positive one.

There were far more moments today when I laughed, smiled, and felt loved than moments when I felt anxious.

There were moments when I remembered that I am loved.

There were moments when I remembered that I am worth loving.

Yet when I sat down to reflect on the day, anxiety was the emotion that demanded my attention.

Anxiety was the feeling that stayed.

Maybe that is because negative emotions are louder.

Maybe it is because I am more accustomed to believing the painful things.

Maybe joy feels temporary while anxiety feels like evidence.

I am still figuring that out.

My Bite of Pie

Here in Dear Journal, we talk about our bite of pie—the thing we accomplished today.

It does not have to be enormous.

It does not have to impress anyone else.

It only has to mean something to us.

Today, I felt anxious and did not give up.

That is my bite of pie.

I felt myself being erased.

I felt myself beginning to disappear.

And I still decided to keep trying.

That is a big deal for me.

Maybe that is what people mean when they say to fake it until you make it. I did not feel confident. I did not suddenly believe every positive thing about myself.

I simply kept going despite the feelings telling me to stop.

As I sit here now, I do not feel as anxious as I did earlier. I do not feel as scared, sad, or lonely.

There is a sense of calm.

My thoughts are still racing, but I am calmer.

I still cannot articulate everything happening inside my mind the way I want to. I wish I had a giant canvas where I could paint my thoughts with words so beautiful and precise that anyone looking at them would instantly understand exactly how I feel.

But I cannot.

I cannot perfectly explain something I barely understand myself.

Most days, I barely understand me.

But I keep trying.

Every day, I take another small step forward.

Every day, I take another bite of pie.

You Are Not Alone

I hope that by hearing my story, you recognize that you are not alone.

We are not hopeless.

We are not unimportant.

People notice us, even when our minds convince us otherwise.

I do not share these thoughts only for myself. I share them because I know someone else is sitting somewhere feeling exactly the way I felt today.

They are struggling.

They are hiding it.

They do not know how to explain it.

Maybe they do not know whom they can trust enough to tell.

We already judge ourselves enough. We do not need more judgment from the people around us.

So write it down.

Write it in your journal.

Write it on a random piece of paper.

Send someone a message that says, “Hey, this is what I am feeling.”

You do not have to explain it perfectly.

You do not have to understand it completely.

You just have to start somewhere.

I am not alone because I have you.

And you are not alone because you have me.

Sometimes, that has to count.

Today is another page in the story.

It does not have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow,

Love you loud.

Recognizing What’s Right in Front of You

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever stopped to consider that everything you want may already be right in front of you?

We spend so much time focusing on the details—how something should look, how it should happen, and what form it should take—that we can completely overlook what we already have.

Today was gloomy outside, which always makes me feel a little more creative. I sat down intending to work on one of my books. As I wrote, I began thinking about my life, the relationships I have experienced, and the people who have shaped me along the way.

Somewhere in that reflection, I realized something that should have been obvious to me long ago:

I have spent much of my life wanting to be chosen while overlooking the people who were already choosing me.

The Life I Thought I Was Supposed to Have

For as long as I can remember, I have had a particular picture of family in my mind.

I imagined getting married to someone I loved, having children together, and building the family I always wanted growing up. I pictured big holidays, everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, family dinners, and walks together afterward.

It was never simply about getting married or having a child. Technically, either of those things could happen without providing what I was truly searching for.

What I wanted was for someone to choose me.

I wanted someone to hear what mattered to me and say, “What you want is important to me too.”

Because I was so attached to the complete picture, I often dismissed anything that did not resemble it closely enough. If an opportunity did not include the marriage, the children, the house, and every other detail I had imagined, I assumed it was not what I wanted.

I became very good at walking away from things that did not look exactly right, without stopping to consider what they might still offer.

Family Does Not Always Arrive as Expected

This realization feels especially important because of the work I have done with children in foster care.

I have explained to children that although we may wish every parent could provide the safe and loving home their child deserves, we do not live in a perfect world. Sometimes a child cannot return to the family they were born into.

That does not mean they can never have a family.

Family can also be created through the people who consistently love, protect, guide, and show up for us.

I understand that in my own life. My biological mother was not always the mother I needed, so I have adopted mothers along the way. I have met women who embodied the care, wisdom, or protection I was missing, and I allowed them to become family to me.

Yet somehow, I was able to recognize chosen family in one part of my life while continuing to reject it in another.

I kept insisting that I had not been chosen because I had not been chosen in the exact way I expected.

Fifteen Years of Being Chosen

There is a man I have affectionately referred to as “Boyfriend” for years, although we have never dated. We have never attempted to build a traditional romantic relationship. We simply met by accident, became friends, and continued existing in each other’s lives.

For fifteen years, he has sent me a good-morning message nearly every day.

I know that if I call him and genuinely need something, he will be there. He has watched me endure failed relationships, job losses, heartbreak, major life changes, and some of the darkest periods of my life.

He has remained.

There was even a night when I no longer wanted to remain here myself.

Content note: The following section references a suicide attempt.

During one of the lowest moments of my life, I took more medication than I should have. The people with me were frightened and unsure of how to reach me, so they called him.

He talked to me. He listened as I explained that I felt unwanted, unloved, and convinced that the people in my life would be better without me.

He asked me to save myself, but I refused.

Then he said something different:

“Do it for me.”

And I did.

Recently, I asked him why he believed those words would matter enough to reach me.

He told me that he knew me well enough to understand that it was the one time he could ask me for a favor that big—and that he would not have asked unless he believed it would work.

Even then, I did not fully understand what his presence meant.

I continued moving through my life, searching for someone to choose me, while this person continued doing exactly that.

Love Is Not Always a Marriage Proposal

This reflection is not a declaration that he and I should have married. It is not an announcement that I regret my entire life or do not love my husband.

It is the recognition that love does not exist in only one form.

Being chosen does not always come with a wedding ring. Family is not created exclusively through biology or legal paperwork. Commitment can reveal itself through friendship, consistency, protection, honesty, and the quiet decision to keep showing up.

For years, I looked at what was missing.

There was no proposal. No traditional relationship. No jointly created household that matched the image in my mind.

Because I focused on those missing pieces, I failed to appreciate what was actually being offered: a person who knew me, accepted me, supported me, and continued choosing a place in my life.

The package did not look the way I expected it to look, so I treated what was inside it as though it were not enough.

How Often Do We Do This?

How often do we have something remarkably close to what we need staring us directly in the face, only to reject it because it arrived differently than expected?

How often do we overlook the people who love us because they do not use the words we imagined hearing?

How often do we dismiss chosen family because they are not related to us?

How often do we disregard consistency because we are waiting for a grand gesture?

And how many beautiful possibilities do we miss because we decide the packaging matters more than what it contains?

I have spent years wanting to feel seen, wanted, and chosen. Yet the evidence that I was all three had been present for much of my adult life.

I simply did not recognize it.

Look Again

Perhaps you are reaching for something that always seems just beyond your grasp.

Maybe you want love, family, belonging, safety, acceptance, or someone who genuinely sees you.

I am not suggesting that you settle for less than you deserve or pretend that an unhealthy situation is good enough. I am asking you to look again—carefully and honestly—at what is already present in your life.

Who checks on you?

Who consistently shows up?

Who makes room for your feelings?

Who has loved you without requiring you to perform for it?

Who continues to choose you, even if their love does not carry the title you expected?

Sometimes what we are seeking is not absent.

Sometimes it is simply wearing a form we have not yet learned to recognize.

Today is another page in the story. It does not have to be perfect; it just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What love, support, or family might I be overlooking because it did not arrive in the package I expected?

And, as always, what was your bite of pie?

Until tomorrow, love you loud.

When Your Body Says It Is Time to Stop

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever experienced emotional stress turning into physical exhaustion?

Not the kind of tired where you stayed up too late or had a long day. I mean the kind of tired where your body feels heavy, your mind feels cloudy, and even the smallest task feels like somebody asked you to climb a mountain.

That was me today.

I woke up, and something just felt off. I could not muster up the energy to do much of anything, so I stayed in bed and played on my phone until I eventually fell back asleep.

When I woke up again, it was almost eleven o’clock.

Even then, my normal routine felt impossible.

I remember telling my husband that I did not want to get up and take a shower.

He asked me why.

I told him the truth.

“I just don’t feel like it.”

I have been trying to break some of my routines lately, but he reminded me that not every routine is bad. Some routines help us take care of ourselves. So I got up, took a shower, and wandered into the living room.

I made the easiest breakfast I could think of: a bowl of cereal.

Then I sat on the couch and crashed.

And by crashed, I mean I laid there and did not want to move.

My husband came in and asked whether I had eaten. I told him I had eaten a bowl of cereal. He said he was just checking on me and continued with his morning.

I was awake. I had moved from the bedroom to the couch. Technically, I was making progress.

It had only taken me about two hours.

When Everything Feels Like a Chore

I was talking to a friend, and she suggested that maybe I needed some protein and water.

I laughed at the water suggestion because I do not like water. I regularly tell people I am allergic to it.

I am not actually allergic to water. I just do not want to drink it.

But protein sounded like a good idea, so I decided to make some hard-boiled eggs and coffee.

The problem was that making eggs meant I had to get off the couch and walk into the kitchen.

My kitchen is not far from my couch. It was not an unreasonable journey. But when you are in the headspace where nothing feels easy, everything becomes a chore.

My husband helped me get up, and I went into the kitchen and put my eggs on.

Then I went right back to the couch.

I intentionally left my coffee in the kitchen. I knew that if the coffee was beside me, I might not have enough motivation to go back when the eggs were ready.

Sometimes you have to know yourself well enough to trick yourself.

When the timer went off, I got up, grabbed my eggs, covered them in salt and a ridiculous amount of pepper, picked up my coffee, and returned to the couch.

That was another small victory.

Sometimes Connection Gives Us Energy

While I was eating, my friend pointed out how much pepper I had put on my eggs.

I told her it reminded me of my grandmother. I do not even know whether the memory is completely accurate, but whenever I use a lot of pepper, I picture my grandmother putting an excessive amount of it on her french fries.

Somehow that conversation turned into a discussion about California.

My friend called me Midwestern, and I immediately told her to take it back.

There is nothing wrong with being Midwestern. Embrace it if that is who you are.

But I am a Californian.

More specifically, I am from the Bay Area.

We do not always talk about where we are from by naming the cities. We talk about area codes.

I am from the 408. I lived in the 925. I spent time in the 510.

And yes, I say “hella.”

It is hella cold.

That is hella funny.

I am hella Californian.

Before I knew it, I was talking about growing up in San Jose, moving during high school, the neighborhoods I lived in, the schools I attended, and the places that still feel like home.

I talked about malls, rolling backpacks, Taco Bell, Oakland, Richmond, and the cement slide at Brigadoon Park.

The memories just kept coming.

My friend pointed out that it was the first time she had seen memories roll out of me so naturally. She said the way I talked about California made it obvious that California would always be home.

She was right.

There are days when I dream about moving back. Then I remember that I am not rich and cannot afford the house I would want.

But it is still home.

And for a little while, sitting in those memories made me smile.

That mattered.

It reminded me that being emotionally aware is not only about identifying sadness, stress, or pain. It is also about recognizing the things that make you light up.

I Had Been Putting Myself Last

Recently, I have been working through some emotional turmoil.

I have been trying to balance the things I want with the things I need.

That has not been easy.

I think that is why I felt so checked out. I had spent months keeping myself busy so that I would not have to fully process what I was feeling.

Focus.

Work.

Get this done.

Handle that responsibility.

Complete the next task.

Keep moving.

I am very good at avoiding my emotions by staying productive.

The problem is that taking care of myself is also one of my responsibilities, and I had placed it at the very bottom of the list.

At some point, my body decided that being last on my list did not mean it had to remain last.

My body made me stop.

I became so overwhelmed that I started feeling physically queasy. I took my work into the bedroom because I thought I could continue working from bed.

I laid down.

And I was out.

The emotional exhaustion had become physical exhaustion.

Why Do We Ignore Emotional Exhaustion?

When we feel sick, we take medicine.

When we feel nauseous, we go to the bathroom.

When we are physically injured, we usually understand that something needs attention.

But when we are mentally drained or emotionally exhausted, we often keep pushing.

We act as though emotional pain does not deserve the same care as physical pain.

We tell ourselves we can deal with it later.

We convince ourselves that we are being responsible by continuing to work.

Then our bodies step in and remind us that we are not machines.

My body told me, “You are going to take care of yourself.”

I did not have much of a choice.

How many times do we have to reach that point before we learn to stop earlier?

How many times does our body have to force us to rest before we give ourselves permission to rest voluntarily?

I Cannot Be Superwoman Every Day

Sometimes life catches up with you.

You know you are tired. You know you are overwhelmed. You know something eventually has to give.

But you keep going anyway.

I have a habit of believing I can be Superwoman. I tell myself I can complete everything, carry everyone, handle every responsibility, and worry about my emotional state later.

The problem is that when I finally fall, I fall hard.

I know this about myself.

I also know there is a good chance I will try to do it again.

That is part of why emotional awareness matters.

It is not about suddenly becoming perfect at caring for yourself. It is about recognizing your patterns a little earlier each time.

Maybe next time I will notice the signs before I feel sick.

Maybe next time I will rest before my body demands it.

Maybe.

Life Does Not Have to Be Perfect Before You Show Up

I had told myself that I would record a video podcast today.

The problem was that my office was not clean.

I did not like the background. I did not like the clutter. I kept telling myself I should clean before I recorded.

Then I had to remind myself of the entire purpose of my brand.

Unperfectly Perfect.

Unperfect is not technically a word. The correct word is imperfect.

But I chose unperfect because I believe our imperfections are part of what makes us perfect.

My office did not have to be perfect for me to sit down and talk.

My life did not have to be perfect for me to show up.

I did not have to feel completely healed, organized, energized, or put together before my voice had value.

My imperfections make me the caring, loving, helpful, independent, dependable, and strong person I am.

They give me my superpower.

What do your imperfections give you?

What have you learned because of them?

How have they shaped the person you are becoming?

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was not completing a huge project.

It was not cleaning my office.

It was not checking everything off my list.

My bite of pie was getting out of bed.

It was eating.

It was taking a shower.

It was recognizing that my body needed me to slow down and actually listening.

I did not argue with myself.

I did not force myself to push through.

I laid down and took the nap I needed.

Because I rested, I had enough energy to get back up and record.

Had I continued ignoring my body, I probably would have felt worse.

Rest did not ruin my day.

Rest allowed me to continue it.

Give Yourself Permission to Put It Down

Not everything has to be carried at the same time.

Sometimes we become so focused on solving every problem that we forget we are allowed to put something down for a moment.

You can pick it back up later.

Taking a break does not mean the problem disappeared.

It does not mean you are irresponsible.

It does not mean you are weak.

It means you recognized your capacity.

So tonight, take a moment for yourself.

I know that is not always easy. We have children, relationships, jobs, homes, bills, deadlines, and responsibilities.

Maybe you cannot take the entire day off.

Maybe you cannot take a three-hour nap.

But perhaps you can find five minutes.

Sit somewhere quiet.

Take a deep breath.

Drink some water, even though I personally remain suspicious of it.

Eat something.

Close your eyes.

Let yourself feel whatever you have been avoiding.

You do not have to solve everything tonight.

Sometimes acknowledging the weight is more important than immediately trying to remove it.

Today is another page in your story.

It does not have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie?

Until next time, love yourself loud.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I know when I am emotionally exhausted?

Emotional exhaustion may look like feeling unmotivated, overwhelmed, irritable, disconnected, or unable to complete tasks that usually feel manageable. You may also notice physical symptoms such as tiredness, headaches, nausea, or wanting to sleep more than usual.

Does resting mean I am being lazy?

No. Rest and avoidance are not always the same thing. Rest gives your mind and body an opportunity to recover. Sometimes taking a pause is what allows you to return to your responsibilities with more energy and clarity.

What can I do when even small tasks feel difficult?

Break the task into the smallest possible step. Your first step may simply be sitting up, walking into another room, eating something easy, or placing an item where you must get up to retrieve it later. Progress does not have to look impressive to count.

How can I become more aware of my body’s signals?

Start noticing changes in your energy, sleep, appetite, mood, concentration, and physical comfort. Instead of immediately judging yourself, ask, “What might my body be trying to tell me?”

What if I do not have much time to rest?

Rest does not always have to mean taking an entire day off. Five quiet minutes, a short walk, a meal, a shower, a few deep breaths, or sitting somewhere alone can create a small moment of relief. Take the bite of pie that is available to you.

Dear Intrigued Me: What Happens When You Give Yourself a Chance?

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Do you ever stop and think about how often you question yourself?

We make countless choices every day, but how many of those choices do we immediately doubt?

I question what I wear and how I look in it. I question what I eat and how it may affect my weight. I question what I say and how the people around me may respond. Sometimes, I even question the simplest things—things I already know how to do.

Apparently, I can even doubt my ability to write the letter D.

That may sound ridiculous, but it made me realize just how naturally self-doubt shows up in my life. It does not always arrive as one big, obvious insecurity. Sometimes it slips into the smallest decisions until I am questioning everything.

When Curiosity Becomes Motivation

Today did not go according to plan.

I got out of bed later than I intended. I showered, ordered groceries, fed my dogs, enjoyed Taco Tuesday, folded laundry, and helped my husband with some things he needed to handle.

Eventually, I made my way into my office with every intention of getting work done.

Instead, I remembered the microphone I bought last month.

It had been sitting in the box, quietly taunting me. I had been afraid that it would be difficult to assemble, that it might not work, or that it would not be worth the money I spent on it.

Since the return date was approaching, I finally opened the box.

And suddenly, I was intrigued.

There were pieces everywhere, and I was excited to figure out how they worked. I confidently decided that I did not need the instructions.

I needed the instructions.

As it turns out, just because two pieces fit together does not mean they belong together.

Still, I kept going. I spent far longer than I probably needed to because I was stubborn, curious, and determined to make it work.

Eventually, I did.

That experience reminded me of something important about myself: when something truly interests me, I come alive.

I may not have a detailed plan. I may not know where the idea will lead. But curiosity gives me enough energy to begin.

How Quickly Do You Talk Yourself Out of Things?

The problem is that the excitement is often followed by questions.

Why did you do it that way?

What made you think that was a good idea?

Who told you that you could do this?

Is this actually going to work?

Sometimes questioning ourselves is necessary. It can help us make thoughtful decisions and avoid rushing into something without considering the consequences.

But there is a difference between thinking something through and talking yourself out of trying.

How many times have you felt excited about something, only to immediately begin listing all the reasons it will not work?

We do not always give our ideas a fair chance. We decide they will fail before they ever have an opportunity to grow.

What would happen if we held on to our curiosity a little longer?

What if we allowed ourselves to explore something simply because it interested us?

Being Seen Requires Vulnerability

I considered recording a video with tonight’s podcast.

I think it could be interesting for people to see how my face changes while I process my thoughts, how much I talk with my hands, and how naturally my emotions show up while I speak.

Then my insecurities stepped in.

I started thinking about my appearance. I told myself I looked like a hot mess. Almost immediately, I found a reason not to do the video.

I recognized a pattern.

When something good is happening, I sometimes search for a flaw so I can punish myself with it.

I did not record the video tonight, but I also did not completely abandon the idea. I decided that I would clean my office and create a space where I feel more comfortable showing up.

Then I will try.

Because if I am asking people to trust me, connect with me, and allow me to support them, I cannot spend all my time hiding.

Vulnerability does not mean that every insecurity suddenly disappears. Sometimes it simply means deciding that your insecurity does not get to make every decision.

Maybe I Am Not Crazy—Maybe I Am Finding Myself

Over the past month, I have laughed and smiled more than I have in a while.

I have strengthened relationships. I have explored new ideas. Most importantly, I have been strengthening my relationship with myself.

Sitting alone and speaking into a microphone once felt strange. Now it has become a way for me to process what I am thinking and feeling.

I have shown up for these journal entries for almost a month.

I created a journal that I am preparing to share with other people.

I have been honest with myself and with those who listen.

Bravo to me.

I do not give myself enough credit for those things.

Whenever I do something differently, I have a habit of calling it crazy. But maybe I am not being crazy.

Maybe I am coming into my own.

Maybe I am learning what excites me.

Maybe I am finally giving myself room to discover who I am becoming.

Give Yourself the Benefit of the Doubt

We often hear the phrase “benefit of the doubt” when discussing how we should treat someone else.

But how often do we extend that same grace to ourselves?

Instead of immediately assuming that your idea is foolish, what if you allowed yourself to explore it?

Instead of deciding that you will fail, what if you gave yourself an opportunity to learn?

Instead of searching for the flaw in every good moment, what if you simply allowed yourself to enjoy it?

You may still have questions. I know I will.

But perhaps the goal is not to stop questioning ourselves completely.

Perhaps the goal is to ask better questions.

Instead of asking, “Why would I think I could do that?” try asking, “What might happen if I give myself a chance?”

Instead of asking, “What if I fail?” try asking, “What could I learn by trying?”

Instead of asking, “Who am I to do this?” try asking, “Why not me?”

What Was Your Bite of Pie Today?

My bite of pie began with getting out of bed.

That one action led to feeding my dogs, taking care of things around my home, helping my husband, setting up my new microphone, and recording another episode.

Your bite of pie does not have to be huge.

Maybe you attended a meeting.

Maybe you answered an email you had been avoiding.

Maybe you took a shower.

Maybe you rested because your body needed it.

Maybe you got out of bed even though you did not want to.

Give yourself credit for it.

Today is another page in the story. It does not have to be perfect. It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was my bite of pie today?

Until tomorrow, love you loud.

Dear Nervous Me: Sometimes You Have to Choose Yourself

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Do you ever get overly anxious about everything?

You worry, and you worry, and you worry some more—even when nothing has actually gone wrong. It is almost like your mind is preparing you for the worst, just in case life decides to surprise you.

That was me today.

I woke up this morning and immediately decided that I did not want to adult. Unfortunately, adulthood did not care about my feelings. The dogs still needed to be taken care of. I still needed to get dressed. I still had work to do.

So, I got up.

And honestly, the day started off great.

I was working on my coaching packages, printing out plans, organizing my ideas, and feeling genuinely excited about the business I am building. My website was coming together. My services made sense. I could see how everything connected.

I felt like I was finally stepping into my purpose.

Then I had a business meeting.

When Someone Else’s Opinion Becomes Your Inner Voice

For the past year, I have worked with a business coaching program.

When I first joined, I hit the ground running. I watched the videos. I did the assignments. I created the business plan.

Then I received feedback.

What came back felt drastically different from what I believed I was trying to build.

Instead of asking questions, explaining myself, or working through the disconnect, I stopped.

That is something I have done more than once.

I begin excited. I make plans. I convince myself that this time I know exactly what I am doing.

Then someone questions it.

Suddenly, I question everything.

Maybe my idea is not good enough.

Maybe it will not work.

Maybe I misunderstood my purpose.

Maybe I should throw the entire thing away and start over.

Today, I felt myself slipping into that same pattern.

I Do Not Want to Help Just One Kind of Person

In business, people constantly tell you to choose a niche.

Help mothers.

Help teenagers.

Help couples.

Help divorced families.

Choose one specific person with one specific problem and speak directly to them.

I understand why people give that advice.

But it has never felt completely right for me.

I do not want to help only one age group or one type of person. Mental health, communication, identity, and emotional growth affect everybody.

Children need help understanding themselves.

Teenagers need help discovering and expressing who they are.

Adults need safe spaces to process the thoughts and emotions they have spent years hiding.

The conversation may look different depending on the person, but the purpose remains the same.

I would not explain something to a five-year-old the same way I would explain it to a teenager. I would not communicate with a verbal child exactly the same way I would communicate with a nonverbal child.

That does not mean the lesson cannot reach both of them.

It means I meet people where they are.

That is what I do.

Communication Is More Than Talking to Other People

At first, I thought the problem I wanted to solve was a lack of communication.

Then I was told that communication was the solution, not the problem.

Fair enough.

But my work is not only about teaching people to communicate with their partners, children, parents, or friends.

It is also about learning how to communicate with yourself.

How do you know what you want if you never ask yourself?

How do you understand your emotions if you refuse to sit with them?

How do you discover who you are if you never give yourself room to explore?

Communicating with yourself can look like journaling, writing, reading, creating, reflecting, trying new things, or simply paying attention to what brings you peace.

I want to help people find a voice they believe they never had—or one they feel they lost somewhere along the way.

That is the work.

I Do Not Market People’s Pain

During the conversation, I was told that I needed to be clearer about my audience so I could market to them.

Again, I understand the concept.

But I do not want to market by convincing people that they are broken.

I do not want to scream:

Are you miserable?

Are you drowning?

Is your life falling apart?

I do not market people’s pain.

I market their hope.

Yes, I want to talk to the mother who does not feel seen.

I want to talk to the teenager hiding in their room because they believe nobody understands them.

I want to talk to the man who works every day, provides for his family, and quietly carries the weight of emotions he has never been allowed to express.

I want to talk to the person hiding huge pieces of themselves because they are terrified of what people might think.

I am here for you.

Not to judge you.

Not to tell you who you are supposed to be.

Not to force you into somebody else’s version of healing.

I am here to sit beside you and say:

“Okay, Bestie. This is where you are. Where do you want to be? Let’s figure out the next step together.”

The Moment I Almost Gave Up Again

When the meeting ended, I felt heavy.

Before the call, my desk was covered with plans, roadmaps, and materials I was excited to create.

After the call, I wanted to go to bed.

I wanted to lie on the couch, shut everything down, and give up.

Not because anyone had done something terrible to me.

I gave their words power.

I heard feedback, but my anxiety translated it into:

This is not good enough.

You do not know what you are doing.

This is never going to work.

Throw it away.

Start over.

And for a moment, I almost listened.

Accountability Helps Me Keep My Word

During the meeting, my pattern was brought up.

I start strong, and then I stop.

I know.

Trust me, nobody is more aware of my habit of disappearing than I am.

That is part of the reason I created the podcast.

I do better when I am forward-facing.

When I tell you I am going to show up, I show up.

When I tell you I am creating something, I push myself to finish it.

I might struggle.

I might get frustrated.

I might stare at my computer and threaten to throw it across the room.

But I do not like letting people down.

Accountability helps me keep my word—even when my anxiety is trying to convince me to hide.

Nervous Does Not Mean Wrong

Later, I spoke with a friend who was nervous to tell me about a major life decision.

She was afraid I might not agree.

But it was not my job to decide what her life should look like.

I could listen.

I could ask questions.

I could offer support.

But ultimately, she gets to decide what she does with her life, and I get to decide how I show up as her friend.

That conversation made something click.

Both of us had spent the day nervous about making choices for our own lives because of what somebody else might think.

How often do we do that?

How often do we feel excited about something until somebody questions it?

How often do we know what we want but allow someone else’s fear, confusion, or opinion to become louder than our own voice?

Nobody else lives your life.

They do not wake up in your body.

They do not carry your dreams.

They do not feel the consequences of the choices you never made because you were afraid of disappointing them.

Sometimes, you have to choose yourself.

Today, I Chose Me

Today, I decided that people may love what I am building, or they may hate it.

Some people will understand it.

Others will not.

That part is outside of my control.

What I can control is whether I believe in the gift I have been given enough to share it.

I know I have something valuable.

I know I have something worth pursuing.

I know I want to help people become better than where they are—not because they are broken, but because we all deserve space to grow.

The people who connect with that message are my people.

The ones who do not are simply not for me.

And that is okay.

I do not need everybody.

Do It for You

People are going to tell you not to do things.

Sometimes they will be protecting you.

Sometimes they will genuinely believe they know what is best.

Sometimes they simply will not understand what you see.

Listen to wise advice. Consider the risks. Do not make choices that intentionally harm you or someone else.

But when it comes to pursuing a dream, accepting a job, moving somewhere new, starting a business, creating something meaningful, or taking a chance on yourself—you may have to make the decision without everyone’s approval.

Do it nervous.

Do it uncertain.

Do it while your hands shake.

Do it even when nobody is watching.

Do it even when people are secretly waiting for you to fail.

Do it for you.

You never know who your decision might help.

For me, continuing helps the little girl inside me who once felt invisible and unable to speak up.

I will not let her remain invisible.

And I will not build a business that encourages anyone else to disappear either.

My Bite of Pie

My bite of pie today was simple:

I said, “Forget them. I am continuing with my plan.”

I am going to finish my packages.

I am going to list them on my website.

I am going to talk proudly about my business.

I am going to market it in the way that feels honest to me.

Not by convincing people that their lives are terrible.

But by reminding them that they deserve the opportunity to become better than where they are today.

Sometimes, we do the hard things while nobody is watching.

Sometimes, we do them while others cheer for us.

And sometimes, we do them while people cheer against us.

Do it anyway.

Today is another page in the story.

It does not have to be perfect.

It just has to be written.

Before you close your journal tonight, ask yourself:

What was your bite of pie today?

When One Idea Becomes an Entire System

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever had one small idea turn into seventeen more before you even finished the first one?

That happens to me all the time.

I can start with something simple, like wanting to organize my spices, and suddenly I am thinking about homemade seasonings, healthier meals, cookbooks, storage systems, labels, and whether any of it could become a product.

One thought becomes a trail.

Then the trail becomes a map.

Then somehow, I am building an entire system.

That is what my brain does.

For a long time, I saw that as a problem. I thought I was scattered, unfocused, or incapable of finishing anything because my mind kept moving faster than my hands could keep up.

Now, I am learning to see it differently.

My mind is not empty. It is crowded.

The challenge is not coming up with ideas.

The challenge is choosing which idea gets my attention first.

The Gift and the Trouble of a Creative Mind

There is something exciting about having a brain that sees possibilities everywhere.

A scrapbook can become a memory project.

A piece of wood can become a shelf.

A website can become a business hub, a resource library, a coaching space, a podcast home, and a place where someone might finally feel seen.

That part feels good.

The hard part is knowing when to stop adding.

Sometimes I get so excited about what something could become that I make it bigger before I finish making it real.

I do not just want to create a page.

I want to build the whole site.

I do not just want to write one post.

I want to create the blog, connect the podcast, build the journal funnel, add the resources, and map out the coaching packages before I have even eaten lunch.

And somehow, in the middle of all that, laundry is still waiting.

My husband is looking for me.

The dogs are wondering whether I have forgotten them.

And I am staring at a screen thinking, “Just one more thing.”

Hyperfocus Can Feel Like a Superpower

When I am excited about something, I can lock in.

The rest of the world gets quiet.

Time stops making sense.

I can spend hours rearranging a page, changing colors, fixing links, rewriting sections, and learning how to do something I had no idea how to do that morning.

That kind of focus can help me accomplish an incredible amount.

It can also make me forget that I have a body.

I forget to eat.

I forget to drink.

I forget that other things still exist.

Then I look up and realize an entire day has passed.

Hyperfocus can be useful, but I am learning that it needs boundaries.

Not because the work is not important.

Because I am important too.

The goal is not to stop caring so deeply.

The goal is to care deeply without disappearing inside the project.

Progress Does Not Always Look Organized

Today did not feel neat.

There were technical frustrations.

Things did not work the way I expected.

Some designs looked terrible.

Some sections had to be rebuilt.

There were moments when I was convinced I had made everything worse.

But I kept going.

I asked questions.

I tried another layout.

I changed the plan.

I deleted what was not working.

And little by little, the website began to look like me.

That matters.

Not because it is perfect.

It is not.

But it is functional.

It is clear.

It tells people what I do.

It gives them a way to listen, read, reflect, connect, and work with me.

A few days ago, it felt like a site I wanted to hide.

Now it feels like the beginning of a business I am proud to build.

That is progress.

Even if the process was messy.

I Am Learning to Stop Punishing the Pivot

I used to believe changing direction meant I had failed.

If I redesigned something, I assumed the first attempt had been a waste.

If I changed my mind, I thought I was being inconsistent.

If I deleted a whole section and started over, I saw it as proof that I should have known better.

But sometimes the first attempt is how we discover what we actually want.

Sometimes the wrong layout teaches us what feels right.

Sometimes the plan has to change because we have learned something new.

Today, I pivoted more than once.

I changed the structure.

I changed the design.

I changed how the coaching packages would be displayed.

And every change brought the site closer to what I had imagined.

A pivot is not always a setback.

Sometimes it is movement.

Momentum Is Built from Small Wins

I did not finish every project in my head today.

That would be impossible.

There are still pages to refine.

Links to test.

Forms to complete.

Products to build.

Ideas waiting patiently—or not so patiently—for their turn.

But I made progress.

Real progress.

I built something functional.

I made decisions.

I followed through.

And I did not let the need for perfection convince me to stop.

That may be the biggest win of all.

For someone like me, momentum is not about moving in a perfectly straight line.

It is about continuing to move.

Even when I pause.

Even when I change direction.

Even when one idea becomes ten more.

Questions to Sit With

What small idea has been taking up more space in your mind lately?

Are you avoiding finishing something because you keep imagining a bigger version of it?

What would “functional” look like if you stopped demanding “perfect”?

What is one small win you can finish today?

Do not overthink it.

Pick one thing.

Give it your attention.

Let that be enough for now.

Continue the Conversation

Creative minds do not always move in straight lines.

Sometimes we circle.

Sometimes we wander.

Sometimes we build three things while trying to finish one.

But scattered movement can still become meaningful progress when we learn how to choose the next step.

Today, my bite of pie was making my website functional.

Not flawless.

Not finished forever.

Functional.

And honestly?

That feels pretty good.

The Power of Simple Questions

Listen to the Episode

Prefer listening? Hear the full Dear Journal conversation here.

Have you ever realized that you know almost everything about the people around you, but you are still learning how to describe yourself?

For years, I asked questions because I genuinely enjoyed getting to know people.

What do you love?

What makes you laugh?

What reminds you of home?

What could you talk about for hours?

I listened carefully to the answers. I remembered the little details. I learned how the people I cared about thought, what they valued, and what made them feel safe.

But I did not always stop to ask myself those same questions.

That realization became part of the reason I created Nice to Meet You.

The journal begins with simple conversations, but I quickly learned that simple questions do not always lead to simple answers.

Sometimes they uncover memories we have not visited in years.

Sometimes they remind us of the people we love.

And sometimes they help us understand ourselves a little more clearly.

What Does Home Feel Like?

One of the questions that stayed with me was:

What is something that always makes you feel at home?

My answer was food.

Not because food is the only thing that makes a place feel like home, but because so many of my memories are connected to the meals shared with people I love.

When I make handmade fries, I think about my grandmother.

When I need a smile from my dad, I think about scrambled eggs with rice and sugar.

When I need something that feels like a hug, I reach for his favorite ice cream: butter pecan.

A bowl of Cream of Wheat takes me back to the kitchen table, where my siblings argued over who had the most sweetened condensed milk in theirs.

Beans with rice and cornbread make me think fondly of my mom.

And when I make sweet potato pie, I can still hear my maternal grandmother telling me that I have to taste the filling to know whether it is ready.

None of those foods are extraordinary on their own.

Their meaning comes from the people, places, and moments attached to them.

For me, home feels like family.

It feels like calm.

It feels like love.

Sometimes food is simply what brings all of that back to me.

The Things We Carry With Us

Another question asked me to think about an item I would want to keep forever.

My answer was not something expensive.

It was a stuffed animal.

I have two stuffed animals that mean a great deal to me: Theodore and Minnie Mouse.

Theodore represents the adult version of me and the season of my life when I fell head over heels in love.

Minnie is connected to my childhood.

I have had her since I was a baby. She slept with me every night growing up, and whenever I see her, I remember the nights I spent sleeping beside my grandmother.

She was my favorite person when I was little.

Minnie helps me keep a piece of those memories close.

That question reminded me that ordinary objects can carry extraordinary meaning.

A photograph may hold an entire relationship.

A piece of jewelry may remind someone of where they came from.

A blanket, recipe, toy, or familiar scent may help someone feel close to a person they miss.

The object matters because of the story attached to it.

Getting Curious About Yourself

The most meaningful part of answering these questions was not creating the journal.

It was realizing how much I was still learning about myself.

Some of my answers came easily.

Others surprised me.

A few reminded me of things I had not thought about in years.

That is what I love about reflection.

It does not always require a dramatic breakthrough.

Sometimes it begins with a question that seems harmless:

What food brings you comfort?

What smell reminds you of home?

What did you dream of becoming when you were little?

What object carries a story you never want to lose?

The first answer may seem small.

But when we pause long enough to ask why, we often discover something underneath it.

A memory.

A value.

A longing.

A piece of ourselves that still deserves to be acknowledged.

Questions to Sit With

Take a moment and consider:

What is something that always makes you feel at home?

What ordinary object carries an important story for you?

What memory do you hope you never forget?

Do not worry about creating the perfect answer.

Pay attention to what comes to mind first.

Then ask yourself why it matters.

Continue the Conversation

Self-discovery is not something we finish.

We continue learning, changing, remembering, and becoming.

Every honest answer gives us another opportunity to understand the person we are today.

That is the heart behind Nice to Meet You, a free journal featuring 30 conversations designed to help you slow down, reflect, and discover more about yourself.

I answer every question first.

Then it is your turn, Bestie.

Choose the journal style that feels most like you and begin the conversation.

So, what is your bite of pie today?

Maybe it is simply asking yourself one meaningful question—and taking the time to listen to your answer.