Coach.  Teacher.  Author.  Rowdy.  

 

What I really want you to know about me is that I feel the same feelings that you do. I have felt despair and I know how deep it cuts. I have felt crushing loneliness. White hot fury.

I have felt the deflated sense of helplessness. I have felt defeat.

I have also felt passion that could light up the sky. And laughter that makes me want to burst. And triumph from taking a risk and knowing the win was mine.

And compassion so thick that it binds me to another soul.

And love that feels so strong I wonder if it will break me.

You and I... we connect at these places. You feel these thing and so do I. The places where we have hurt and healed. If we can show each other the wounds. The scars. The healing.

You would know that this is the only conversation worth having. 

If you really knew me, you'd know that I am a tough. Direct. Go-getter. You'd know that I'm not afraid of asking - or answering - difficult questions.

You'd know that I love the truth. And that I still continue to stretch the depths of my authenticity.

And that this practice is difficult for me.

You'd know that I love my work. And the women that I get to work with.

As much as my own heart beat.

You'd know that I am crazy.  And insecure. And that I forget to be nice sometimes. And I'm not really polite. You'd know that sometimes I am afraid. And that I forget that I am worthy of love. And that I procrastinate. And that I can be lazy.

If you really knew me, you'd know. Sometimes I'm afraid to show up. To tell you who I am. To risk not being liked. And to brave being rejected.

If you really knew me, you'd see. We are more alike than different.

We are built of the same stuff.

We both suffer when we believe painful stories. And we both celebrate when we win.

Loving ourselves is a work in progress. It takes practice. And compassion.

It takes commitment. And patience.

If you really knew me, you'd know 

That ultimately.

It's not so much about whether or not you like me.

But it's about whether or not I showed up.

Enough.

For you to have an opinion.

 

 

 

Things that make life worth living.
To me.

 

 

Isabelle: The cutest little girl on the planet. My daughter.

Coffee: Always.

Music: Defines my days.

Artists: Gypsy kindred souls.

Poetry: Music, sacred, truth.

Dancing: Guaranteed smile.

Fashion: My favorite reason to spend money.

Apple (culture not fruit): My second-favorite reason to spend money.

My Cameras: How I document this life.

Laughing: Side splitting, hiccuping, snorting, tears. The best.

Central Coast of California: Where I live. For good reason.

The Pacific Ocean: My mother.

Divorce: My most painful and my most cherished gift to myself.

Wheat: My nemesis.

Hiking: My church.

Rowdies: My roots. My food. My soul. My sisters.

Yoga: My self.

Books: My window.