It’s embarrassing to think of all the years of energy that has gone into this insecurity of mine. Literally just last month I bought a black-head zapper off a random Instagram ad from a totally bogus website in the UK that had all sorts of youtube videos claiming its success. I used it once and it left my skin red, bruised and far worse looking than before. But before that, this silly little product held all my hopes and dreams! Hook, line and sinker.

As Olympian Lindsey Vonn embarks on her comeback, one I am following closely and have admittedly questioned, I see with fresh eyes her desire for another chance. She and I are the same age, born in 1984, and we raced against each other at times. She had dreams, just the same as I did. Maybe her comeback is driven by an insatiable need for adrenaline or she has a record she thinks she deserves or she believes she should have another Olympic medal (I’m guessing it’s this one, but that’s total speculation), or she simply wants to erase the disappointment and sadness she undoubtedly felt (still feels?) after having to end her career before she was ready.

I found myself standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower on my 40th birthday in November of 2024. As I relished the moment alone, I began reflecting on forty years of life lived and especially my decision to venture off my conventional path and onto the alternative. This completely new life path has brought me to a lot of joy and places I never imagined, but also a steady stream of persistent yet hidden, fear and uncertainty. Where was I going?

Six years ago, I was told by a pst-life channelor that I would someday be able to channel spirits if I wanted to. To which I said, "Come again now?!?" At the time I was working full-time as the Chief Operating Officer for my family's real estate development company, juggling life's demands (not especially well), and feeling like being busy was a norm I would never see the end of. I was an achiever, not an ‘over-achiever’ but a highly motivated, strong-willed, aspiring leader who always held the highest standards for myself and those around me. I loved my job. It was fulfilling and making me more and more money.

The other day we were enjoying the last bits of summer with a swim at my parent’s pond. We had planned to meet my sister and her family there, but they hadn’t arrived yet.  As I’m sitting there watching the boys play and enjoying the beautiful day, my niece comes running down in tears. 

“I forgot my swimsuit!” 

Eight years ago today I was pregnant with my first baby. I would go into labor at 11PM that night, and have my first born son by 10:30AM the next morning. Thinking back on that day, a lot comes to mind. But mostly, who I was.  

I was stubborn and defensive. I was hard-driving with my business, my employees, my family, and Tom. I was beautiful and kind. I was scared of failure.

Two years ago I wrote a blog post about similarities between the beginning of lockdown and Kelly's accident. Now, I once again find myself seeing parallels between these two journeys.

When Kelly first got hurt, we were told by the doctors at 1:30 in the morning, after 11 hrs of surgery, that she had a very small chance of ever walking again. That statement, "a very small chance," was heard by my Mom, my Dad, me and Zeke.