Daily Archives: Monday, May 28, 2018


#00002: Everything Ends And That’s Okay

Like my obsession with gold sequins and The Roaring 1920s…

… everything ends and that’s okay.

Just let that sink in:

Everything ends AND that’s okay.

It’s really useful, primarily because it’s soooooooo relieving to know and be told that it’s okay – as opposed to completely devastating and soul-crushing – for things to end.

Relationships, jobs, gold sequin and The Roaring 1920s obsessions, family expectations…

… everything ends

… and that’s okay.

Especially when the thing that’s ending is our excuses for not being where we want to be at in life.


#00001: The First Blog Post: A Promise

Might as well pick up where we left off, right?

Five years ago this November, I organized and hosted The Get More Nourished Night Out at The Florian Gardens in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

See:

It was a successful 150+ guest event with 30+ booths, a sit-down dinner and roster of speakers – some much less awkward than others. And by successful I mean when all the hustle was said and done, the event broke-even (financially speaking). But I was tired of the feast-and-famine of entrepreneurship and several months later went back to work full-time for “The Man”. And I have been ever since.

Truth be told, doing so generally gnaws at my insides. Except for those bright spots where, even in Corporate, thee transformative “AHA MOMENT” occurs. Sometimes it happens in my nightly analysis of day-to-day tasks, but more so when I’m off-the-clock listening to professional development speakers share their hard-won pearls of wisdom and vetted resilience strategies on a recorded webinar. These are the employee-access-only moments that convince me to stay – along with the consistent (albeit never-enough) paycheck and the grand illusion of a freedom-winning enjoyable promotion just still out of…

 

 

… reach. 

That aside, I have kept all of my materials. And, as it happens, my scaredy-cat perfectionist tendencies. Today, we’re saying goodbye to the latter. And diving in. Finally.

Because I refuse to break a promise to one of my original coaching clients. “Promise me you won’t stop coaching.” We were sitting together, across the coaching table from one another, in my original office in Banbury Place. She was wrapping up her final session with me. We had coached together for three, four years. I had changed her life and she had changed mine. As all in-person, long-term, client-work does.

Here’s to keeping promises.

And to losing the 60.8 pounds of gnawed insides gained during these five years of hiding away from the world.

Too honest? Oh ladies, we’re just getting started.