I come from a long line of women who have been betrayed and abandoned. Dramatic, I know. But it’s true. My great grandmother told me stories about her husband showing up after a night out and demanding that she cook both him and his mistress breakfast. At some point, he stopped coming home at all. And good riddance. She raised four children on her own, growing vegetables, tending chickens and taking care of the elderly.

I took special care that morning with the foam roller, making sure my legs were loose and ready to go. My playlist had three hours’ worth of great house music cued up to keep me moving. I laced up my shoes just so and stepped outside. I was ready to run a half marathon.

This was supposed to be our summer of glory. A big, open, expansive summer to catch up on all of the things that we missed from life during the pandemic. We were vaccinated, our loved ones were vaccinated, and we were going to get out and enjoy life. Things were going to feel more normal, even if we didn’t ever expect them to return to the blissfully predictable rhythms of pre-pandemic life.

I connected with a friend recently who shared some of the big challenges she’s facing in the workplace. Maybe you’ve experienced this one. Her boss routinely ignores her ideas and then when her male counterpart makes the same suggestion, her boss perks up and tells him it’s a great idea. Ugh. Unfortunately, my brilliant, talented friend is not alone in this experience.

If you don’t know where you’re going, how are you going to get there?
A coach recently asked me this, as I was in the process of working through my third personal vision statement in as many years. This didn’t use to be an annual activity for me. I created my first vision statement while sitting in a conference room at a Holiday Inn in the Seattle suburbs.

A good friend of mine taught me years ago that it’s ok to speak the truth about being a mom, even when the world tells us that we should make it look effortless. When I had my first child, it felt taboo to talk about all of the dark and deeply frustrating parts of motherhood.

I lost a friend two weeks ago. I knew she was sick. Maybe I should have known she wouldn’t get better. Somehow though, it was a shock to me that this open-hearted, vibrant, creative woman was gone.

I had surgery last week. I hadn’t been under general anesthesia since having my wisdom teeth out in my early 20’s. I remember that experience as being pretty disorienting- a tangle of wires and sensors, an IV going in and a breathing mask going on. I felt disoriented and alone as I slipped under the waves of my own babbling.

I recently started working with a new coach. Of course I have my own coach! My new coach asked me when in my life I’ve felt ecstatic, and how I describe that feeling.

I honeymooned in Bali years ago. In my imagination, it was the most exotic and beautiful place I could visit in celebration of marrying my soulmate. The Bali idea had been planted in my mind more than a decade earlier, as a college student with an old TV that got just a few basic channels.

I’m smack in the middle of one of those tough life transitions that are right up there with changing jobs or getting a divorce: I’m moving. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I’m moving. I’m also grateful that I’m gainfully self employed and enjoying a happy marriage of 12 years. But moving is Just. So. Hard. The main thing keeping me going: I’m moving into a beautiful house that better accommodates my family’s ever growing during the pandemic space needs.

On a cozy, quiet night just before the holidays, my husband and I nested on the couch with our current favorite bourbon cocktail (a Paper Plane) and a notebook. Well, I had a notebook.

As the year draws to a close, it’s a natural period of reflection on what we accomplished this year and what we want from the next one. Such as, this year, stayed sane through it all.

I leaned intently over the steering wheel, gloved hands gripping both sides as I took the steeped bank of the California Speedway. With the instructor’s voice steady in my headset, I pushed the IROC stock car up into the higher gears. 130 mph, then 140. Steady, keep pace with the car in front of you, don’t freak out. Don’t. Freak. Out!

I was on a video chat with a coaching client recently, deep into a conversation about issues on their team at work. It was an intense conversation and as usual, I was taking a few notes as we talked. I had one of my favorite pens in hand, a black Uniball Vision pen.

I’m going to just come out and admit it. My world and my mindset can feel pretty small these days. There are periods where I may not leave my house for two or three days.

I’m a hustler.

Don’t believe me? It’s true. I say yes to just about anything asked of me. I go way above and beyond for the people I care about. I’m the one who can always be counted on to show up and take charge. That’s my hustle.

Several years ago, I was promoted from a Director to a VP at the medical device company I was working for. Following the announcement, there were many warm congratulations from my colleagues. I remember feeling somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable during these conversations, even though I was very excited about my new role.

I saw a clever yoga t-shirt once. It said “I’m just in it for Shavasana.”  For all non-yogis, this is the pose at the end of yoga class that has you lying flat on your mat with your eyes closed. 

“I just want to throw myself in the garbage, Mama.”

My smart, vibrant seven-year-old daughter was upset and angry with herself. Tears tracked down her hot cheeks as she tensed every part of her face and body.