Mom is the greatest title I’ve ever held.

It’s the most important one I have, and it will always be my priority.

It’s also why I’ve been a little absent from Substack lately.

If my kids need me, I’ll figure out a way to be there.

It is easier now than ever before, because I have more autonomy.

I’m living life on my own terms, and it feels pretty great.

It wasn’t always this way.

And at times, it was really challenging.

Especially when my kids were younger.

I never envisioned myself as a single mom.

But not everything goes according to plan.

Sometimes things are chosen for us, not by us.

In fact, all I ever wanted was to be a stay-at-home mom.

To me, it’s the most important job there is.

Instead, I spent nearly three decades in corporate leadership, and raised my girls on my own.

When my kids were little, I traveled frequently for work.

I would take the first flight out and the last flight home so I could minimize my time away.

That meant getting up at 3 a.m. and getting home at 10 p.m.

Before every trip, I packed everything up for my kids to stay with their grandparents.

I dropped them off before and picked them up after.

I left an itinerary of their events for the day.

My girls helped make their own lunches and learned responsibility in their earliest elementary years.

On one trip, I arrived at the client by 8 a.m., which was normal for an enterprise relationship I managed.

The people I was meeting with decided to work from home that day and did not feel the need to tell me.

I had flown in and arrived at their office for our scheduled in-person meeting, only to find out that I didn’t need to travel at all that day.

All of that, for a meeting that never happened.

Another time, I was 500 miles away when my dad called. My mom was in the hospital, and he couldn’t pick the girls up from school.

I relied on a friend my girls had never met.

They were skeptical, because she was a stranger to them.

She offered them snacks, and my oldest instructed my youngest not to take them.

It was comical and immensely stressful at the same time.

I had to excuse myself from the meeting, buy my own plane ticket home in a snowstorm, and pick them up around 10 p.m.

These are the things single moms are faced with while they act like everything is okay.

In all their school years, I missed only one function.

It was my youngest’s kindergarten music program. I had a required work trip for our annual sales conference.

My oldest, just two years older, videoed it for me so I could feel like I was a part of it.

I’m still mad about missing it.

Through all of it, my girls thriving was what mattered the most to me.

You have the responsibility of a human life.

You are guiding another person to live with integrity.

To do the right thing and make a difference.

To show up as the very best version of themselves.

It’s not for the faint of heart.

They don’t raise themselves.

There’s no material compensation.

And much of the time, there is little reassurance or appreciation.

The reward is when they start to mirror the values you reinforced.

You witness them making the exact right choice all on their own.

Restating something you told them a million times.

Tell the truth. Do the right thing, even when no one is watching. Treat others the way you want to be treated.

Now I hear my daughters say it back to me.

At parent-teacher conferences, my oldest daughter’s English teacher read me a paper she wrote about me.

About all I’ve done for my kids, the sacrifices I’ve made, and how she’s probably never told me how much she appreciates it.

That’s the glory in it all.

In my eyes, moms are superheroes.

I don’t feel single moms get the recognition they deserve.

So for all the single moms, you deserve your roses and then some.

This is not an easy path.

It can be extremely lonely and isolating at times.

You rarely receive invitations because most functions are for couples.

There are the inevitable judgments and assumptions.

You learn to navigate it.

You count your blessings.

And you remember that there is always someone who has a greater challenge.

I’ve known several of these women over the years.

Some ahead of me and some behind me in the journey.

But for whatever reason, we seem to find one another.

It’s like a single mom sisterhood.

And in the most lovely way, we support each other.

We get it. We understand more than anyone ever will.

We’ve had to make sacrifices that we may not have anticipated.

We rarely got a day off or time to do what we wanted.

If we got sick, we still had to show up to do all the things others depended on.

Once, I twisted my ankle so severely, I was basically immobile for both my daughter’s birthday and my own. We are two days apart.

We couldn’t do anything because I was busy elevating my leg, but I still had to make meals and do basic mom duties.

I was so disappointed, and I felt even more terrible for disappointing my daughter.

And then there’s the heavy lifting. Yardwork is my least favorite.

Just this week, I injured my ribs trying to wash and dry my rug and put it away for the winter.

As a single mom, you sometimes lose touch with your femininity while managing all the household responsibilities, including those that are more traditionally male.

But I would not change a thing.

If you are a single mom, or were raised by one, I see you.

You carry every single memory with you.

That’s the silver lining.

I’d love to hear: who was in your corner?

I don’t understand why… It was at a time when I absolutely “needed to work out.”

I was navigating an unexpected divorce, raising young children, and returning to a career I never planned to return to.

But instead of dismissing these words, I let them marinate. I probably questioned whether I had time to work out more than I should have.

It seemed outside of her lane to be instructing me on my exercise habits. And it unquestionably was.

Comments like these often left me speechless. How do you even reply to something that makes no sense?

Silence. That was always my go-to.

My subconscious simply shuts down all communication and conserves oxygen.

Because, after all, I was taught: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.”

The comment made me analyze my daily schedule.

I would have glossed over it when I was younger. I didn’t put too much stock in things. Not much ruffled my feathers.

As I’ve gotten older, and as I’ve raised daughters, I’ve found a deeper meaning in some of these passive-aggressive comments.

The pattern I recognized was that there were some women who simply didn’t support other women, for whatever reason.

This is upsetting to me because I am a woman. I believe in uplifting other women, especially when support is paramount and the vulnerability is raw.

I’ve noticed it in my career and personal life.

I’ve witnessed it with people I care about.

Comments do have an impact on us, whether subtly, subconsciously, or overtly.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I have dozens of examples to draw on and hopefully continue to learn from.

What I learned from this experience was that my well-being did matter.

Even if it didn’t seem to fit my new calendar.

In this instance, I chose to take the words as motivation to prioritize my well-being.

I got a personal trainer.

I carved out my “lunch break” every Friday to work out. It felt amazing. I felt amazing!

It gave me confidence and it gave me the energy I needed to navigate everything in my professional and personal life.

Had I landed on “you don’t have time to work out,” I might have gained an hour for something else. But I would have lost the confidence, energy and clarity that one hour provided through exercise.

More importantly, it made me realize the type of woman I want to be.

One who supports other women. Not someone who puts others down or suggests limiting beliefs.

When someone is experiencing a challenge or navigating a difficult time, I want to be encouraging and to have their back.

I want my words to help another woman trust her instinct and make time for what restores her.

Has someone ever said anything to you that left you questioning the very thing you needed most?

A calendar filled with back-to-back meetings may look productive, but it may not account for the energy required to sustain it.

Most high-achievers don’t need reminders. They need time to restore their energy.

They know what needs prioritizing, but demanding schedules and fixed commitments leave little room to fit in activities or hobbies that support well-being.

I don’t know about you, but if I put something on my calendar, it usually gets done.

Week after week, meetings, deadlines, and responsibilities fill our days. And we expect to find time around these critical to-dos for the smaller actions that support our long-term well-being. If we do not intentionally make room for them, they can easily become deprioritized, pushed aside, or disappear entirely.

As I recently shared on LinkedIn, our energy and performance can vary throughout the day, influenced in part by circadian rhythms. We do not operate at the same intensity every hour of every day.

AI cannot add more hours to an already full day. But one thing I’ve learned is that it can help identify where our calendars may be working against us and suggest minor adjustments that create room for what matters: activities we may view as non-negotiable, such as restorative sleep, nurturing relationships, spirituality, time outside, moving our bodies, and self-care.

Over the past few months, I have been more intentional about including these restorative practices on my calendar.

As my business continued to grow, reserving the time and space for restorative practices became less consistent, which inspired me to develop this tool.

I utilized AI to create a repeatable skill that examines my calendar through the perspectives of four specialists. Their areas of expertise include circadian rhythm, executive performance, organizational psychology, and intentional recovery.

Below is the exact text I used to create the skill.

The Energy Restoration Calendar Audit

Please establish an Executive Council to serve as my calendar advisors. Each specialist will bring expertise to evaluate my schedule in the following areas:

1. Circadian rhythm: exposure to natural light, sleep patterns, and reported energy patterns

2. Executive performance: task priorities, competing commitments, flexibility

3. Organizational psychology: time management, schedule efficiency, work-life balance

4. Intentional recovery: consistency, social connections, hobbies and entertainment

When reviewing my schedule, please retain the exact order outlined above so that the insights from the prior area can be used to inform the subsequent area.

[Paste your calendar or attach a screenshot along with these instructions. Provide your top “must complete” priorities, your usual sleeping hours, periods during the day when energy is at its highest and lowest, any fixed commitments, and any unplanned events that could narrow your margin. Please label fixed commitments. Remove any confidential information and/or redact any personal information.]

Summarize the findings according to these outputs: determine the highest source of energy depletion, recommend two immediate adjustments, highlight one opportunity for energy restoration, establish one boundary for rest, and determine the most important action to take now.

Respect fixed commitments, validate assumptions, and do not diagnose health conditions. If required information is missing, request the necessary input.

You do not need to redesign your entire life today, but you can make a few strategic choices to increase your margin.

What the Calendar Audit Revealed About My Schedule

I ran this skill using my own calendar and here is what it revealed:

My greatest source of energy depletion was not simply having a full calendar. It was operating on five to six hours of sleep, leaving little margin for unplanned events, and allowing multiple priorities to compete for the block of time when my energy is at its highest.

Seeing these results made me realize that my calendar should emphasize protecting the energy I need to accomplish all of my goals, in addition to the tasks needed to complete them.

The Made of Meaning™ Edit helps high-achievers create lives as meaningful as they are accomplished through reflections and complimentary tools centered on advocacy, wellness, intentional living, and rediscovery.

If you are ready to guard your energy, focus on your well-being, and create a habit of evaluating what deserves your attention, I invite you to subscribe.

I find myself in a somber mood as I reflect on the events of 9/11.

Twenty-five years have passed, but I can still remember that day as if it were yesterday. And I am certain that anyone old enough to remember recalls it vividly too.

I was living in Chicago, and it was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the sky was clear blue, and the temperature was absolutely perfect. It was what I call a “Chamber of Commerce type of day.”

I was running a little behind schedule because I had been at the Cubs game the night before. The Today Show was on in the background as I finished getting ready. Then the broadcast cut to an image of smoke billowing out of the first building.

It was a moment of complete disbelief. I asked myself, “Is this real?”

My sister was working in the Sears Tower at the time. I called to make sure she was all right, and she told me their building had been evacuated and everyone was being sent home. I knew the same would be true for me, as I worked only a few blocks away and right next to the Board of Trade.

No one really knew what was happening or what could happen next. As the news began to spread, people started taking emergency action.

While I was on the phone with my sister, the second building was struck. That was when the realization sank in that it was not an accident. It was intentional. It was meant to cause harm and to take innocent lives.

To sit with the enormity of that thought and the emotions it evokes still feels as raw today as it did then. The amount of hatred behind an act of such destruction is incomprehensible.

My sister came to my apartment, and we watched in horror for hours.

At that time, my work took me to New York several times a year, and I had many close colleagues, clients, and friends in the area. Nearly everyone I interacted with was affected in some way or knew someone who had lost someone close to them.

It was heartbreaking.

In the weeks and months that followed, there was an indescribable unity. It was something I had never experienced before.

We all had something in common. We were Americans.

We stood beside one another in times of need. We supported each other with generosity, and we helped each other rise up again. It is one of the many reasons I feel blessed to be a proud American.

Seventeen years later, I had the opportunity to visit Ground Zero with a dear friend. We toured the museum. We listened to the voicemails. We walked around the memorial reflecting pools. We touched the names. We looked into the empty footprints where those towering buildings once stood. Thinking of the loss was like losing air.

Everyone should visit this memorial to experience a glimpse of how that day claimed 2,977 souls and forever changed their families. And sadly, the loss has continued as thousands of people exposed to the toxic air and dust have developed serious illnesses, and many have died.

It was a somber day, like today, but it reminded me of our resilience.

I honor all those who lost their lives, the families who were left to carry on, and the incredible heroes who sacrificed their lives on behalf of others.

I will never forget that day.

I will never forget how we united after that day.

And I will always remember:

Love wins.

Hate destroys.

And together, we are stronger.

I had to sit with this one for a while (maybe too long) before I captured the extensive inner work that made it possible for me to restore my energy. Like so many others, I had been living the life: managing a demanding corporate career, raising my children, caring for my dad (and my mom until she passed), doing more work, sleeping, and then waking up to repeat the cycle again. Some might call it the hamster wheel or the daily grind. I call it less than what I expected. I was exhausted, to put it mildly, but even more so, I was depleted because there was no room on the calendar for the activities that really filled my heart, fueled my soul, and renewed my energy. It felt like someone had stolen my joy. I kept thinking, maybe tomorrow I’ll have more quality time with my kids or time for that walk outside, but tomorrow never came.

Secretly, I had been contemplating my exit, planning an escape for many months. I wasn’t sure what the next move would be, but the vision was in my consciousness, and it was as if God was answering a silent prayer. I woke up that Monday morning in a very upbeat mood and reached for a professional blouse. Something stopped me…and I put it back. I don’t know why. Then I purposefully looked for the company-branded quarter-zip because it felt like the right thing to wear on that particular day. I joined the video call for my weekly one-on-one and then someone I had never met appeared on screen. Well, we all know how that ended. It was layoff season. People had been talking about it, but I did not think I was at risk. In the moment of realization, I was at absolute peace. I was calm, composed, and oddly relieved. It was a clear sign that I was not where I was meant to be. I knew it and God knew it. I just wasn’t the first one to make the move. And sometimes that can make things seem like they’re out of control or out of your control. But I believe none of us are fully in control of every outcome.

Although I had no idea where I was headed, there were a few things I was absolutely sure of.

These messages played on repeat in my mind:

God had a different plan for me.

My purpose was not defined by a title or a paycheck.

After three decades, it was time to turn the page on the corporate era.

I would not return to an environment that depleted me.

I wanted to do something more meaningful.

Out of habit, my first thought was to seek out the next right move. That’s what people do: update the resume, start networking, apply for positions, submit resumes, and land interviews. Most people keep cycling back into the system, but my deeper, more intentional instinct guided me to resist this route. I kept thinking, if it happened this time, what would prevent it from happening again? Nothing. The job-search process is a roller coaster and can chip away at our sense of self.

In these moments of doubt and uncertainty, I started to lose belief in the value I deliver, despite a history of high performance, trusted relationships, and professional recognition. How does this even happen? Why did I let it? In my situation, I believe it had to do with my sense of pride. A new title or the comfort of a paycheck was not going to restore my dignity, make my light shine brighter, or give me meaning. That’s when a seed was planted in me to think differently about what my future could look like. My desire has always been to help others. That’s how I approached my past roles. That’s how I lived my life. But beyond that, I wanted to make a difference, a measurable individual impact in someone’s life. This was the tipping point.

Within about a week, I connected with someone about a business opportunity. I did my due diligence, and on paper, it checked out. I began working toward this goal, but something was holding me back. I couldn’t describe it, but it was a strong feeling I had in my gut. Something didn’t seem quite right. And in the end, it turned out to be all wrong.

This gave me room to pause. It was another reminder that it’s alright not to have everything figured out. In fact, not knowing is sometimes better. It pushed me beyond my comfort zone to explore the unconventional, stretch the limits, and dream bigger dreams. It enabled me to look into other opportunities that deviated from the corporate path. I explored a number of franchises and seriously considered a few. I tapped into my creativity and love for interior design by exploring a move in that direction as well. But ultimately, I kept returning to an industry that had been pulling at my heartstrings and kept calling on me from a young age. The industry was health and wellness.

I felt deeply connected to this industry for a multitude of reasons, one of which was my interest in dietetics during my teens. My mother was a registered nurse, and her mother, also a nurse, was the administrator in their local hospital. I lost both my sister and paternal grandmother to breast cancer at young ages. During the pandemic, my mom suffered a life-altering stroke that left her unable to verbally communicate. And my dad is currently losing his vision, which presents ever-evolving needs. Through all of this, I have been down every rabbit hole seeking answers to these and other health topics, not only for my loved ones who have experienced the challenges, but also for myself and my family.

What I learned in the moments of silence, when most of my answers emerged, was not at all what I was expecting.

Included with this paid post is the Made of Meaning™ Energy Restoration Workbook, a guided seven-day workbook to help you identify what is depleting your energy and begin restoring it.

Read more

Looking back, I wonder why I felt this way and why it mattered so much to me. Was it part of the human condition? A result of my birth order? The desire for kinship, friendship, membership, or courtship? Did I not get enough attention? Did I get too much attention?

I was the one trying to keep up. Not only was I the youngest in my immediate family, but I was the youngest cousin and grandchild. I desperately wanted to be seen for who I was, and not identified as following in someone else’s shadow or footsteps.

I can vividly remember hiding behind a dresser in my closet for what seemed like an eternity to see if anyone noticed I was missing. When would they come looking for me?

And I don’t know where the perception of being the youngest child became such a glorified position. As the youngest in my family, you were put to the test. Sometimes the scapegoat (having no idea what that even meant), sometimes the guinea pig, like the time my sisters put me down the clothes chute - one dropping me from above and the other catching me down below (despite a babysitter being on-site), and sometimes serving as the get-out-of-jail-free card (with the charming little smile).

I carried this posture of belonging into my teens, twenties, and even my thirties. My general memories are those of going along to get along at work, not making waves with friends, and being the easy one to travel with on an extended trip. I was pretty low maintenance and willing to let others “get their way” in order to keep the peace or avoid conflict. I found it was easier this way.

I could strike up a conversation with almost anyone and many people sought out my welcoming demeanor to share their stories. I was an open book, and likewise, an avid listener for others.

Maybe I had blinders on until then, but the tide had shifted, and I came to the realization that not everyone liked me, or accepted me, or included me. A heightened sense of awareness emerged that I had never recognized before nor had a pulse on. This turning point was unequivocally magnified that summer afternoon when I walked to the mailbox.

I opened the mailbox door to a card that had the words mediation on it. The thoughts began flooding my head as my heart sank to the tip of my big toe. Was this what I thought it was? Was I imagining something? Was I awake at this exact moment?

Being the truth seeker that I am - I went inside and immediately called the county to inquire about any divorce filings that might exist under my name. To my shock, the person on the other end replied, “Yes.” I was in complete disbelief. My sister had died the prior year and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what this roadmap might look like. How would I possibly get through this without her support and guidance? She was my closest trusted confidant.

Given the date on the calendar, I had a feeling I might get the official word on my birthday, a Sunday that year, when 364 other options existed. And my instincts were correct. I was overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal, deeply hurt and humiliated, seeing the vision I had for my life and my family destroyed, and I felt guilty that I had let my children down. My vows weren’t fleeting.

In hindsight, I believe God gave me a heads-up so I could maintain my composure when the hammer dropped, and that I did.

When the person you are supposed to trust the most lets you down, it forever changes your perspective on trust and boundaries.

It would be two long years before everything was finalized. I went from being a stay-at-home mom to a full-time working single mother raising two children alone. I would be the one left behind to pick up the pieces and move forward, to put on a brave face in public, to answer the questions, to absorb the scrutiny, judgment, exclusion, and “all the things” that go along with it.

If you had told me then that I’d find the ability to forgive myself and the situation, I would have told you that you were out of your mind. I wasn’t there yet. I had to walk with God for quite a while to understand his plan for me was for good and wasn’t meant for harm.

I learned to give up control over what I couldn’t control (which was virtually everything). I surrendered to celebrating holidays on a different date than the calendar acknowledges. Most parents rip the Band-Aid off when they make the college drop-off, but this reality landed much sooner for me. However, the greatest life lesson I received through the process was the importance of prioritizing my love for my children first and my desire for them to thrive and be happy.

For me, learning to trust again meant not allowing my value to be connected to the actions or words of others. And when I stopped caring what others thought, it was the most freeing moment in my life. It gave me permission to exist exactly as I am.

Psalm 139:14 - “...for I am fearfully and wonderfully made...”

I had just moved to a new place on one of the most oppressively hot days in late July. Imagine walking into an oven that also served as a steam room. I was excited for the new adventure but not quite ready to start the unpacking process after a twelve-hour day. I called one of my close friends to debrief about the move while I frantically tried to locate the basics for my trip among all the boxes. Yes, I was leaving in only a few short hours (on a Sunday) for a week-long work conference 1,400 miles away.

On my way to the airport, I stopped by my parents’ house to check in. I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face when I walked through the door. He told me that he didn’t think my mom would be here when I got back. I asked him a few times if he really thought she wouldn’t be here a few days later. I knew in my mind, no one knows the day or hour when God will call us home, but my dad had some experience in this area, as did I, and I was looking to him for assurance. At first I was a little panicked not knowing what to do and my window to catch the flight was closing.

So, I debated for a few minutes, despite knowing what I wanted to do, mainly because I wondered if work would understand the situation, and I genuinely was concerned about how it would be received. Can you imagine not understanding? It’s challenging enough to juggle work commitments with personal responsibilities on the best of days, but on this particular day, the weight of the situation made this task near impossible. Finally, I determined I didn’t care if anyone understood or not, and I sent the following text to my colleague who coordinated the trip.

“Hi, I had to make a difficult decision this morning. My mother’s health has been deteriorating rapidly in the past weeks and days. I’ve been busy with the move the last few days but when I stopped to see her on my way out of town, the decline from a few days ago is significant. She is struggling with each breath and having uncontrollable tremors. I think her passing is imminent. Although I have no way of knowing exactly when that might be, my gut tells me I should stay close to home. I hope you understand and I will miss being there with you and the team.”

To this day, that text remains on my phone. I will never regret the decision to stay back and I was pleasantly relieved by the response I received: “you are exactly where you should be.”

My mom was a woman of strong faith. She lived her faith in the way she treated and showed up for others. She did not seek recognition or accolades for anything she did. When she saw a need, she quietly stepped in to make things better for those around her, to lessen a load, to share her presence, to brighten someone’s day with her smile. She delivered meals to the elderly, homebound, and church members who had lost a loved one. She was kind, compassionate, and truly lived the golden rule.

My mom, naturally, was a nurse by profession, following in her mother’s footsteps. Her mother was a force of nature - a strong woman who was the administrator in their local hospital and also a nurse by profession. In that day and age, it was almost unheard of for a woman to be in this type of role - to have this level of authority - and she was beloved. She was a trailblazer and my mom was the apple of her eye. She was not extravagant, but she appreciated quality, and wanted to give my mom and her brothers the best possible opportunities she could afford to give them.

My mom was extremely down to earth, and like her mother, material items were not important to her, and definitely did not define her. She was selfless and regularly put others’ needs ahead of her own. I remember as a child wanting her to put herself first, to buy that one outfit she liked at the store, but in the end, she returned it to the rack. As a result, I took every opportunity I had to spoil her once I was able to do so.

She learned to play golf in her 50s and the golf course was her impression of heaven. The love of the game became her gift to herself in later years, and when it came to golf, she finally put herself first.

My mom was a loyal friend and the family peacemaker who never wanted to upset anyone and also wanted everyone to stay connected with one another. She coordinated family get-togethers and loved having her kids and grandkids nearby for special dinners and holidays.

One of her favorite phrases was “kill them with kindness”. It was no coincidence that today when I took my youngest for a sports physical, the doctor used those exact same words - “kill them with kindness” - then asked us if people say that anymore. If that wasn’t a wink from above, I don’t know what is.

My mom’s guidance was constant, subtle, and ever-present throughout my life which was why those last few days were heartbreaking for me. I knew our time together was slipping away (for now) and my dad’s instincts were correct. She did pass away that week and I only left her side for brief moments. I wanted to be there for her in the same way she had always been there for me. I wanted to comfort her through this transition and let her know I would do my best to carry on her legacy by walking alongside my dad, my sister, my daughters, friends, and those whom she loved and cared about most.

Her funeral prayer card read:

I shall pass through

this world but once,

If therefore, there is any

kindness I can show…

Or any good I can do…

Let me do it now, let me

Not defer or neglect it,

For I shall not

Pass this way again.

At any rate, I retained my right to speak freely on such matters which brings me to the point that, yes, I do in fact, have a fully operational brain, within which many opinions flow on any given day. I’m invested in learning about a wide range of topics so I can discern how I feel about that topic personally. And furthermore, I might even change my opinion about something as new information emerges.

I now realize the words meant to put me down, dismiss me, diminish my perspective or dim my internal bright light were the exact inspiration that brought me here. I yearned to do something more in my life and have a greater impact on those around me. Transformative, not transactional. I no longer wanted to be silenced, walked on, or encouraged to show up as invisible. Enough! It was time to move into what I was meant to be and do.

My intention is to share my truth as I know it today and apply it for the best possible good. For me it has been, and will always be, about the truth. And I’ve acquired my perspectives (opinions) through my own curiosity, intense research, learning and many lived experiences over more than four decades. I don’t profess to have all the answers, and I never will, but I know I will continue to be curious, learn, grow and experience more over time. And I know I will continue to pour my heart and soul into my own journey and share the wisdom I gain openly, unapologetically, and without reservation.

Sidebar - this is where I’m starting and I have no way of predicting where I’ll end. There aren’t any hard and fast rules here, and the categories I’m drawn to write about today may change over time based on a variety of factors including the reader’s pulse.

Advocacy - this topic has broad reach for me whether it is caregiving for a dying, disabled, or ill family member during a health crisis to standing up for someone who is being bullied or simply speaking the truth when conventional wisdom disagrees and no one else wants to listen.

Wellness - this is more than just about being healthy, it is about challenging the status quo and listening to my own unique body (internal and external needs) alongside relentless research and critical thinking to understand how my current actions and decisions are going to determine how well I adapt in future years through the aging process.

Intentional Living - this focuses on nourishing my mind, body, and soul in order to be able to fully function at my highest level. It includes giving myself permission to focus on myself first by invoking thoughtful boundaries and inviting people into my inner circle when the position is earned.

Rediscovery - this is a space of hope to dream, stillness to reconnect with who I have always been, and a realization that anything is possible at any age. For me this ranges from stepping into single motherhood, to reinventing my career multiple times, to remembering that the formula for my best self has always lived within me.

We only get so many trips around the sun in this lifetime, and I want to make my rotations as meaningful as possible. Are you in for the ride?

It may sound strange, but I distinctly remember my mother telling me to “trust my gut” on almost every occasion, and now I find myself telling my daughters to “trust their guts”. As a child, I thought it sounded absurd, and by no means a good way to manage your decisions. Let me get this straight, my stomach is going to tell me what I’m supposed to do? Will this be a voice that speaks from my stomach? How exactly will I know when the message is coming through? Do I need to be completely silent in order for it to be delivered properly? Oh the questions that went through my head were endless.

Metaphorically, and in reality, the gut actually should be driving my decisions because as I learned when my mother suffered a stroke, there is a nerve pathway that runs directly from the gut to the brain. So, every time I’ve done something I shouldn’t have done, something felt completely off, or something seemed like an outright terrible idea, that very uneasy, uncomfortable and almost nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach was actually a warning trying to signal this was not right for me. This was my intuition, my driving force, my God voice, my gut feeling to pivot.

By the same token, there have been times when I have been naturally drawn toward something, doors kept opening at exactly the right time, and opportunities unexpectedly arrived, and it felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be - on the right track. I haven’t always been on the right track, and maybe you haven’t either, but as soon as any warning signs emerged, I knew it was time to be prepared, to pull the ripcord, and get back on track.

On more than a few occasions, the ripcord landed me down the rabbit hole seeking information and determined to locate the truth about whatever it was I needed to learn. My sister’s battle with cancer was a transformational period when I left no stone unturned and searched endlessly, at all hours of the day and night, for an answer to her illness, some way to help her get better so she could be physically present for as long as possible. I could not imagine life without her, and witnessing my sister’s deterioration left an indelible impact that has reverberated in my consciousness for the last decade and beyond.

Years later, my mother’s decline led me to the realization that it’s not a one size fits all. We are all undeniably unique, one-of-a-kind women, and what works for one person may not work for another. I celebrate these differences and I hope you do too. But the important reminder for me was that conventional wisdom goes out the window when there are no answers for a loved one and their physical presence is taken.

That is why I have gathered and continue to gather as much knowledge and information as I can consume in order to be my own personal advocate, discerning what is going to give me the best possible outcome, and highest quality of life for the long run. And likewise, this has inspired me to be an advocate for others, to help women prioritize their own wellness as a lifestyle choice in order to live with more abundant joy and fulfillment. My mission is to share the insights and information I have accumulated to support others in a positive way and make a difference in their lives.

Was this my destiny? I mean, I’ve clearly reached middle age, and is this all that’s left for me?

I thought to myself, WOW, they are still paying attention to my every move. Well, maybe not every single move, but they’re tuned in. Despite the busy days, the long weeks, month after month, year after year logged in the history books, my actions matter, and I am leaving an impression.

Is this really the image I want to send my daughters into the world with?

No, absolutely not! It’s inconceivable. How did I let myself get here? I am no stranger to obstacles, and some might say, even adversity. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge or to be afraid of change. I always rose up, dusted myself off, and got back in the game. Hmmm…what was different this time? Where’s my “can do” drive, my determination to figure things out, my pursuit of personal excellence, my marathon finishing mentality? Were they rotting on that couch as well? Quite frankly, what was different was I was getting really tired.

Life had thrown me plenty of curveballs, and somehow, up until now, I had managed to face them head-on and end up better off than before. Hard work and a positive attitude were worth their salt…

Before the first layoff (after returning from maternity leave)

Before my sister died of cancer (a three-year battle)

Before the divorce (started on my birthday of all days)

Before the Machiavellian managers (there have been a few)

Before my mom’s stroke (leaving her with aphasia and difficulty communicating)

Before my mom died (an excruciating end for the kindest woman I know)

Before the second layoff (yes, I’ve been laid off twice, and I take it as a non-conformist’s badge of honor)

Before my dad lost his vision (he is the most disciplined and adaptable person I know)

You see, I’d been holding down the fort, a few forts honestly, and I’m not trained in long-term fort holding. My degree is in finance, but I have honorary degrees in single motherhood, caregiving, and a wide range of useless legal matters. I had people depending on me, but who did I have to depend on? The couch? I mean if you’re going to rot, it’s not the worst destination. It was comfortable, familiar, and a wonderful escape from reality. It helped me navigate most, if not all, of the aforementioned curveballs. Clearly, the path of least resistance was remaining on that couch.

Ok, ok, enough sarcasm, and back to what motivated me to finally get off the couch.

I realized that my daughters know me, but they really don’t “know me” as the carefree person I was before I faced any real roadblocks. They have not seen me in the prime of my career, four-wheeling in the desert, finishing a marathon, dancing until dawn, singing karaoke, attending a Presidential Inauguration, a World Series, the Super Bowl, and countless lighthearted, serendipitous, and comical stories along the way to motherhood, which has been the most rewarding chapter of all. Until now, my focus was on holding down the fort for us, and to a great extent, for my parents. They don’t give out medals, awards, or recognition for raising good humans or giving back to the parents who raised you, less that sense of pride in knowing you did the right thing with no expectations.

While I still have a few chapters to write in my life’s story, I’d like one of them to be that I was a good role model for my daughters. I want them to witness that even in middle age, and truthfully, I’m beyond middle age based on the mortality tables, anything is possible for me, and also, more importantly, for them. In my eyes, “the world is still your oyster” with a positive attitude and a strong work ethic. You just need to be doing the right thing with the right people, and the rest will fall into place.

I invite you to get off the couch with me.

When was the last time you put yourself first, really first, not just for an hour? Tell me in the comments. I’d love to know I’m not the only one relearning this.

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