I had JP on the podcast today (you can listen here). It wasn’t planned and, in fact, was very much impromptu. He was working from home last Friday. The kids were at school, and it was honestly the first time we’d been home alone in over a month (if not more). Between him traveling for work, my schedule, and on top of it, our four growing kiddos, life is full. I don’t want to say “busy”, mainly because I think the word is overused and makes it sound like we’re victims to our schedules, which we’re not. But it’s definitely full.

All to say, to find a moment of quiet in our home, with no one around us, is so rare these days for J and I, and where we found ourselves last Friday when I joked that we should use our rare moment together recording a podcast. To which he of course (being the good guy he is), agreed. So that’s where we found ourselves. The two of us having an impromptu conversation about partnership, how our individual evolutions have affected each other, and where we’re going from here (nothing says romance quite like recording a podcast together in your rare moments alone).

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Partnerships and love are hard (no matter how your relationship is defined—marriage, dating, co-parenting, etc.). Then you add in kids, work, and the stresses of everyday life, and it’s a lot.

I’ve said this often on here and in a recent podcast — I don’t think marriage is the be-all and end-all that I used to believe. Over the past few years, I’ve begun to view marriage differently. I think it works and makes sense for many of us, until one day, it doesn’t. And it’s no one’s fault. Partnerships don’t end out of a lack of trying or effort.

I hate that in our society, those of us who are still married are considered the “lucky ones” as if somehow we did something different. When in reality, we’re all trying our hardest and putting in the same amount of effort. Some love stories are short chapters, and others are longer novels, but when and how each one ends is no one person’s fault or happens out of a lack of trying.

I think there is a lot of shame surrounding relationships and how they either evolve or die, and it’s not helping anyone.

Years ago, when our kids were younger and JP and I were struggling (as all marriages do in those years with young kids), I remember thinking that if anything happened to our relationship, I’d fall apart. And I think if I look at the woman I was then, I wasn’t off.

Years later, I don’t feel that same way. Don’t get me wrong—I love our relationship and I love him (very deeply), but I know within me that no matter what happens in this partnership, I’ll be okay, and I know he will be, too.

We’ve had many conversations over the past few years about the crossroads we’ve been at and what each of us needs, and to be honest, it’s felt really vulnerable at times—for him and for me. We both find ourselves at a time in our lives where we expect a lot from ourselves and from each other, and that if we both choose to be in this (which we both very much want), we have to be adding value to each other’s lives in a real, meaningful way.

I’m sharing all of this with you now to say that yes, JP and I have a strong foundation together, and I’m so grateful for the partnership we have today. But I also recognize how fragile love and relationships can be, and we aren’t untouchable. This is still work, and we can’t take it for granted.

I hope our love story has many more chapters to come, I genuinely do, and I see that for us. But no matter what, I hope that, ultimately, the real love story each of us has is with ourselves.

You can listen to our episode here

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What’s Working

As I listened back on our conversation after recording last week, I started reflecting on some of the changes we’ve made to our partnership over the years. I know many of you reading this are in a similar season as JP and me—in a relationship that’s shifting and evolving—so I wanted to share a few things that I think are working for us and what I’ve witnessed over the past few years.

I am by no means an expert when it comes to relationships, but there are a few that have been really helpful for us as our partnership has evolved.

Sharing the mental load, equally

I think one of the hardest things for women in partnerships is carrying the invisible mental load of caretaking alone, whether that caretaking is for children, aging parents, or simply running a home. It’s not in our heads that we’re carrying more; we literally are. There is an enormous mental load placed on women and mothers, especially in today’s world. And while I believe our partners want to help and understand, unless they’re there carrying the load with us, it’s impossible.

Working to shift some of the mental load off my plate and onto JP’s has changed our dynamic a lot. I don’t know if this is good or bad, but a few years I asked him to take the mental load of two of our kids – I wanted him to know the doctors appts that needed to be scheduled, when “star of the week” was, and deadlines for summer camps—all of it. I needed mental space. And he did it. It was awkward and clumsy at first, and took some time for all of us to adjust, but it’s working.

For the first time, in a really long time, I finally felt like we were equals—true partners. I felt more supported, understood, and most importantly, seen. We could now truly share the weight.

How can I support you this week?

About a year ago, JP and I started sitting down every Sunday morning for a weekly calendar meeting (I know, super romantic). We’d review the week ahead, touch on the upcoming few weeks, and even the next few months. Most importantly, we started asking each other the simple question:” How can I support you this week?”

It’s such a simple question, but has helped us so much. It gives us a chance to ask for help that isn’t set up in a “problem-solving” dynamic but rather creates an environment of listening and support. Sometimes, the support I need is logistical, but most often, it’s just a listening ear where I share what I’m worried about, things I’m working on or excited about so that he knows where to check-in during the week, what questions to ask or be sensitive about. It allows us to support the other without guessing the other person’s needs.

Allowing Roles to Change

When JP and I were first married and our kids were young, I was the primary caregiver. He worked out of the home, and I stayed back and cared for everything related to the kids, meals, and our home. Our roles were really clear and defined.

Fast forward to today, and our lives look totally different. Things aren’t as black and white. JP and I are both 100% on when it comes to managing our home and kids, as well as our careers. And that transition was not easy or smooth, and to be honest we’re still trying to figure out how to juggle it all, understand roles and expectations and provide enough support/space for each other.

When I started blogging years ago, JP was always supportive. But that support didn’t come with any real changes in our home dynamics in order for me to pursue anything “full time”. It was looked at as a hobby. And in many ways, it was my own fault. I wasn’t making an “income” blogging when I first started, so I think subconsciously there was a part of me that didn’t believe I was worthy of more help around the home or with the kids (either hired or from J).

As the years went on and things started to grow and pick up for me, we tried to adjust, but to be honest, it never felt like enough support. I always felt like I was the one “asking” for the help, as if I just wasn’t juggling it all well enough. I’ll write more on this another day, but the short story is that we didn’t make the transition into me “working” smoothly, and we both learned a lot along the way.

I think one of the biggest things for me in our partnership is being seen as an equal, that we’re both carrying the load, and that we both have opportunities for growth outside of the home. I can’t say that we’re quite there yet, but what I can say is that we’re both open to the conversations and are trying – and that feels like progress.

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At the end of the day, partnerships are tough. They are living, breathing things that are always evolving, and I don’t know anyone out there who gets it right or has all the answers.

As for JP and me, I have no idea how we got to where we are today. I joke with him all the time that I still haven’t decided if I’m going to marry him, to which he reminds me that we’re already are, with four kids. But what I do know is that I really like him, and I’m grateful to be in partnership with someone with whom I can have these conversations with. And most importantly, I’m excited for what’s to come.

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*Thank you for reading this, for taking the time to share this space with me. If this spoke to you, or you have some sage words of wisdom or advice on partnership, we’d love to hear from you.

It’s not your fault.

It’s not mine.

But it’s where we find ourselves.

Sicker than we’ve ever been.  Depression, chronic disease, anxiety.  All at an all-time high.  

In 2023, the American Psychological Association reported that 60% of Americans aged 35-44 suffer from a chronic illness and that 45% have received some mental health diagnosis, with women ranking among the highest population.  

That’s almost half of us walking around our world today who are physically or mentally sick.  And that’s just the tiny percentage who have been “diagnosed.”  

We are sicker, physically and mentally, as a society today than ever before.

And yet – we’re surrounded by “wellness” culture everywhere we look.

There are more self-help books than ever before, more online diet and exercise programs, and an endless scroll of wellness influencers and self-proclaimed “experts” available 24/7 at the slight touch of a finger.

Most often (but not always) served to us in a sea of whiteness, of privilege, and in monochromatic “aesthetics.”  A uniform, socially agreed upon picture of “wellness.”  A one-size-fits-all, right or wrong approach to how our bodies should look, what they need, and how best to care for them.

Which begs the question: Is this sea of “wellness” we find ourselves living in, all the programs, diets, and supplements, actually making us unwell?  

Is the world of “wellness”, actually making us sick?

From education & empowerment, to perfectionism & shame

There has always been a way things “should be” in American society.  A socially agreed-upon ideal of “success.”  An end goal we’ve all been told to chase to be successful, to be happy.  

College, marriage, two kids, and a mortgage. The American dream.

Then, you’ll be successful.  Then, you will have “made it”.  Then, you’ll be happy.

In the age of social media, “wellness”  has become the next thing on that list for women.  

Yes, you need to be smart and successful. Manage a career of your own, but also be a good wife and mother. Sit on the school board, limit your kids’ screen time, and make home-cooked meals. 

And while you’re at it, remember to manage your stress, get 8 hours of quality sleep, and eat 35 grams of protein each meal.  Oh, and don’t forget your nightly gratitude journal #blessed.   

Intentional or not, “wellness” went from something meant to educate and empower women to becoming instead another tool for women to perfect and shame themselves.

Another thing added to women’s already overflowing, unrealistic list of things to accomplish in 24 hours. Another way to judge herself. To feel less than. To feel lack, unworthiness, and shame.

An unattainable, always-moving target that will never be reached. By even the thinnest, youngest, most aesthetic influencer out there. 

At its very best, the world of “wellness” is setting women up for failure; at its worst, is slowly killing them. 

Subconsciously adding to this narrative.

In full transparency and accountability, I think I subconsciously added to this narrative for a long time.  Sharing beautifully, meticulously edited photos of my home, my meals, my life.  Glimmers of a false reality.  Of something I wasn’t.  Not realizing it at the time. 

For years, I’ve been working in the online “wellness” space, focusing on empowering women with tools to increase their self-awareness and mindfulness and live more connected to their true selves. My intentions have always been pure in this space: to genuinely help women feel more at ease and at peace in their days.  

But even for me, someone in this space, it’s obvious how even the well-intentioned “noise” out there is creating more confusion, self-doubt, judgment, and shame.

Not only do I see that message coming through with many of the women I work with, but I feel it firsthand in my own life, too.

Preparing to lead a meditation, only to be yelling at my four kids in the background moments before a call.  Feeling a need to always be “on”, to look a certain way, to present myself in a certain way was overwhelming.

The irony that I was teaching self-love and awareness while also feeling a sense of unworthiness myself would almost be funny if it wasn’t true.

Constantly feeling like a fraud.  A failure.  Like someone could peek behind the curtain at any time and realize the emperor had no clothes on.  Although I led meditation and helped women find more calm and peace in their lives – I, too, was still on that same quest.

None of us are immune to the inevitable comparison trap that happens while holding these devices in our hands.  The constant influx of messages telling us how we could be doing more, better, faster, more efficiently.  How our bodies could be smaller, our bank accounts bigger, our skin smoother, and our homes more “aesthetic.”  

What was meant to be a profile I created to help empower women, without realizing it, became a tool that disempowered me along the way.  

I had put myself in a cage with my online presence, one that presents as “wellness”, but not necessarily well.

I share this story now not to give context about myself but to highlight how even the most well-intended wellness “experts” struggle with some of the very things they preach. And that, although it might not be readily admitted (or even recognized), much of the “noise” in these spaces is overwhelming for even them as well. No one is immune. No one.

We ALL struggle to feel well physically and mentally. Even the self-proclaimed “experts”.

Swimming in dirty water

If a fish in a tank were sick from swimming in dirty water, you wouldn’t give it medicine; you would change the water.

For decades, we’ve been fed medicine without even realizing it. 

All the green juices, strength training plans, protein-packed and hormone-balancing diets and supplements; although well intended, are all just medicine, that will never make us well. 

What we need instead is to change the water.

We are not sick or broken.  There is nothing wrong with you or with me.  We’ve simply been swimming in the dirty water of our minds.  

Water that has been polluted by everything from the stress of working to meet daily demands, to social media and the false narratives of perfectionism that we’re constantly bombarded with, to the societal expectations of beauty that we’ve subconsciously agreed to and fed into.    

We’ve become so accustomed to swimming in this toxic sea that we’ve confused the problem. 

We’ve confused a problem out “there” with somehow believing it’s in “here.”    

A problem that has created more stress, confusion, and anxiety in our day-to-day lives. Leading to more self-diagnoses, more chronic inflammation, more anxiety, and more depression.

Leaving women feeling worse, physically and mentally, not better.

Not addressing the actual problem.

I’d like to believe that most (not all, but most) of the things presented to us in the wellness world started with good intentions. I believe that most people sharing their expertise or programs are sincerely trying to help. But what originally started as pure intentions has since been twisted and capitalized on.

The onslaught of information and messages women are being bombarded with daily creates an added layer to an already stressed system. Not taking things “off” women’s plates to help them feel well, but instead adding things on.

We know and unanimously agree that chronic stress creates inflammation and disease in the body. And while many of the messages being served to women are disguised under the veil of “wellness,” we know that it’s instead adding to women’s stress loads (not diminishing). And more chronic stress means more chronic inflammation and more disease.

The world of “wellness” today is not only not helping women feel well; it could be doing the opposite.

More importantly, though, what I don’t see the wellness world touching upon, and what seems to be glaringly missing to anyone watching, is ways to address the things that are keeping women in our society so unwell.

Although I am in no way an expert in this area, even from my vantage point, there are a handful of areas this space is choosing to ignore (either because they can’t be capitalized upon, aren’t Instagram friendly, or simply feel too big/too controversial to touch).

Including, but not limited to:

• The overwhelming burden of stress women in our society are carrying
• The lack of support given to women in homes, communities, and the workforce
• Outdated beauty norms
• The disassociation and disconnection women feel from their true selves due to all of the above.

Changing the water

While the “wild wild west of wellness” isn’t going anywhere, with a bit of awareness, perspective, and hopefully conversations like this, we can begin to slowly change the waters women are swimming in.

We can begin to have conversations about why we’re feeling so unwell and sincerely address our needs, as well as those of women as a whole.

The first step is realizing that neither you nor I are broken. That there is nothing “wrong” with us. We do not need to be fixed.

What we need instead is change; in our world, our homes, and our minds.

Unwell versus unsupported – unburdening women

One of the biggest roadblocks to women not feeling well is the glaring lack of support in our community, workforce, and homes.

Women today are expected to not only have careers and aspirations but also parent more than any other generation. Spending more time with their kids and in their homes than generations before, while also working outside the home.

And they are doing it all alone. Unsupported.

• We need more support for all women in our communities and workplaces and to practice being both givers and receivers of help. Reframing it from a sign of weakness to a sign of unity. It’s just what we do, what we ALL do.
• We need a better division of labor (physical and emotional) in our homes regardless of gender. While over the decades, women have been empowered and encouraged to change their roles and join the workforce outside of the homes, men have not been challenged enough to do the same within our homes. We preach that gone are the days of women holding down our homes – yet physically, we have not caught up with the times. It’s time we do so. Regardless of gender in a partnership, it is time that we have these conversations and challenge the way our homes are set up.
• As a society, we need to model more equanimity in caretaking that falls outside of stereotypical gender norms. We need to teach not just our girls but our boys the importance of homemaking, nurturing, and caretaking.

No woman can be healthy, happy, and well if she is overburdened at home. It’s just the law of physics. We must unburden women.

Challenge outdated beauty norms.

I hear a lot of conversation about changing beauty standards, redefining beauty, and yet I don’t see it reflected on social media, in ads, or in the products being sold.

We are still being told not to age, not to grow in size, not to be who we are. To cover our grey hair, to inject our wrinkles, to contort our bodies.

Not to make us “healthier”, but to make us more accepted. More liked. More pleasing.

In particular, fatphobia and ageism are still heavily present in our modern world, no matter how much we try to pretend it’s not. There is a certain look that is “acceptable” and a certain look that is not.

We owe it to ourselves, each other, and all women to begin challenging these norms. To call out filters when we see them being used on social media (we have nothing to hide; why are we filtering who we naturally are?), to not only stop denying our own aging but welcome it as the beautiful gift that it is, and to recognize where we carry our own biases about our images.

The goal – to cultivate an environment where a woman’s looks are the least interesting thing about her.

Call out the veil of perfectionism that women are expected to carry

Something so beautiful happens when a woman feels safe to let down her guard and share her struggles of holding it all together. How she feels less than perfect. It lowers the guards of every woman around her, and there is a uniform voice of “Me too.”

For centuries, women have been expected to be perfect—to do it all, do it well, and do it smiling.

And while we all KNOW there is no way to do it all, we still pretend we can.

We are not authentically showing up online, in our communities, and in the world, and we are doing each other a disservice.

We have forgotten that our power lies not in our ability to perfect but in our humanity. That is a woman’s superpower. The ability to connect. To unify. To see herself reflected each other.

We deny this to ourselves and each other by holding so tightly to the veil of perfectionism we’ve been told would make us worthy.

Our worthiness is in our humanity, not our perfectionism. We must find it again.

Reclaiming our internal wisdom.

For centuries, women knew how to feed, care, and nurture themselves. It was intuitive. There was no online program, no podcast or group coaching. She just knew.

She knew how to listen to her body and trust her intuition.

We are living so far from that now.

Instead, women have (through no fault of their own) handed their power over to every doctor, healer, expert, influencer, and coach. She is looking outside herself for answers instead of looking in.

We have lost the ability to not only trust our intuition and internal wisdom, but to even hear it.

But it is still there. Our inner wisdom and intuition is still there, speaking to us now. It just comes out as anxiety, a discord, a pull at our heart that something is “off.” Begging us to listen.

We need to continue to encourage each other to start looking inward for the answers we’re searching for. We need to filter the flood of noise out there and trust that we still know what’s best for our unique bodies.

It is time to remember that everything we’re searching for already exists within us. There is no answer “out there” that doesn’t already exist “in here.”

And finally, we must learn to BE with ourselves.

To slow down. To reconnect with our true selves again.

To cultivate not just mindfulness but awareness.

An awareness of self.

The Tibetan word for mediation roughly translates to “become familiar with”.

To become familiar with oneself. To know thyself.

Due to our current world and environment in which we find ourselves, most of us are living disconnected from our true selves.

We aren’t familiar with ourselves. We’re familiar with our racing minds, our anxieties, our worries, our stress, our suffering.

But we aren’t familiar with ourselves. We’ve lost our connection to our true self. And it’s creating a disconnect in our minds and bodies that I believe is at the heart of us living so unwell.

We can not heal a body and mind that is disconnected.

As uncomfortable as it may be, we must learn to BE with ourselves. Our whole selves. The parts we love and the parts we shame.

We must learn to once again know ourselves, before we can try to love and heal ourselves.

Although mindfulness is beginning to be discussed, it is not prioritized or practiced in American culture. In fact, it goes against everything we’ve been taught to “do” and “achieve.”

It is up to us now to recognize the resistance we’ll face in our modern world, one that tells us that productivity is more important than “being” with ourselves, and push back.

To notice our internal drive to “do” instead of “be” with compassionate curiosity and know that there is another way to live.

To model this in our homes, relationships, communities, and most importantly, foster this within ourselves.

We can do better

I am in no way suggesting that much of what is shared in the wellness space is not helpful. It very much is. Knowledge is power. Learning how to care for our bodies and minds is helpful, important, and needed.

AND

We need to have conversations about what’s missing in the wellness space and continue to challenge ourselves and each other.

The pendulum has swung too far, placing the blame and responsibility of wellness on the individual rather than on us as a collective.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, we are sicker as a society than ever before. I personally don’t know one person who feels “well” in all areas of their life and isn’t struggling in some way.

We need tools to address not only the acute issues at hand (with things like supplements and diets) but also the underlying current of our world—and truly ask ourselves why we’re all feeling so unwell.

So much of the burden of well-being has fallen on women. That somehow, they are the ones to blame. That they are lazy, not eating right, or jut don’t have ‘coping skills”.

We’ve been putting our heads in the sand for far too long.

And it’s time for a change.

I challenge all of us, myself included, to look inside ourselves, our homes, and our communities and ask each other, “What is it that you truly need to feel well? How can I help?” And then listen.

I believe that all of our hearts are in the right place. Mine. Yours. (and every wellness expert out there),

No one wants to feel unwell.

We are all worthy and deserving of feeling well and good in our bodies and our minds. It is our birthright.

It’s time we claim it.

I’m in a cabin in Lake Arrowhead. JP took three of the kids skiing and I stayed back writing, reading and drinking tea while Sloan crochets next to me. The two of us are old souls who are choosing to enter into the year at a very leisurely pace.

I don’t think last year I rushed, per se, but I definitely felt moments of overwhelm when I was tying to juggle it all. I wasn’t necessarily conscious of it, but the past week or so being truly “off” has helped me realized just how much my body and mind have been craving stillness and how exhausted I really was (anyone else?)

I love this time of year. It’s my personal favorite week of the year. Post holidays, but not quite “back” at it yet. The in between. When life and time feel like their standing still, you’re not sure what day it is or when you last put on a bra. And as much as I love going braless (I truly do), what I love more about this week is the opportunity to reflect. There is no other time of the year where I truly feel like I step back this much, recalibrate and take stock of where I’m going.

For me, New Years is not about goal setting, planning, or the word I hear most overused these days..manifesting.

Instead it’s really simple – it’s just a check in. A moment to recalibrate. To give my body and mind a chance to rest, and then from a relaxed state – choose what’s next for me. Without pressure. Without a sense of urgency. But rather a nudge to get further in alignment.

I think it can be really easy to get caught up this time of year in the pressure of creating these huge plans and overhauling our lives to somehow “change” who we are and “become” someone new. To start a new diet, workout or morning routine. And while I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing – I think w’er missing the point.

That we’re pretty great. Me and You. We’ve accomplished a whole heck of a lot over the decades, and especially over this year; living through a wild time politically, socially and culturally. And we’re not just getting by, we’re thriving. Even when it doesn’t feel like it – we’re doing amazing things. I see it everyday, people rising to the occasion and showing me the best in humanity (sure the opposite is true as well, but I see more good than not these days).

Could we put our phones down more, save more for retirement, or be more patient with our kids at time – of course. I’m sure there’s a lot that we could all work on. But in the grand scheme of things – we’re doing pretty amazing, kids. Don’t overlook that.

I shared on my most recent podcast how I’ve been looking back on this year, and choosing not to look at what I accomplished externally, but rather how I felt internally. The woman I showed up as.

This year really tested me professionally, as well as personally trying to get our family settled out west. It could be so easy to think of this year as a failure. I earned the least I ever has an entrepreneur, my audience shrank, and I had a major setback on a creative project. It could be so easy to think of this year as a failure – but instead I feel really proud of how I handled it all. How I didn’t quit. How I didn’t stop showing up for myself, or keep trying. How I showed up for the kids, for JP and myself personally. I may not have accomplished my “goals” per se – but I really like the person I was this year. I liked her. And that means everything.

As I started thinking about the year ahead there are of course things I’ve been playing with. I spent a lot of time this week journaling and just being with my thoughts. JP and I spent time as a couple thinking through our priorities and our values, having some much needed conversations. It had been a while since we had done that and it was interesting to see how much has changed. And we did the same exercise with our kids. Just having conversations. Informally. With no pressure, but rather just with compassionate curiosity for ourselves and each other.

So while I love big goals, vision boards, and manifesting (fine), I think the intention behind it is more important than anything. If that feels good to you, awesome. Just don’t let it become another thing on your “to do” list because you think its gonna make you a better person. Because you’re already an amazing person.

You’re not an iPhone who needs updating every 6 months. You’re an incredible human doing amazing things in a really challenging world.

It’s more than enough if you do nothing this January other than just show up.

You’re doing great. Go slowly, kids. This whole like things is a marathon, not a sprint.

Happy New Year, friends. Now back to crocheting with my 8 year old grandma….lol. This is the energy we need for 2025.

*Oh, and if you’re looking to start the year more mindfully and aware, come join our mindfulness reset. It’s a 4-week holistic mindfulness program, based in meditation, helping you to feel centered, grounded and well this year. You’ll have direct access to me, a library of resources and a community of women to grow alongside of. This is unlike another I’ve ever done before and encompasses everything I’ve learned over the decade into one holistic mindfulness program. We begin January 20th. You can learn more here.

This is not normally what I would write or share on here. I’m not even sure this is going to be a complete thought. My mind is numb. Yet emotions and thoughts are swirling and need to come out. So here we are.

I’m sitting in my office drinking tea. My kids are all safely asleep in their beds. The sun is beginning to rise, although you can’t quite see it. You just have to trust that it’s there, between the smoke, fog and heartache. The eerie glow on the walls tells us it’s morning.

Like many of you, this has been a horrific week witnessing (and for many of you, experiencing) what’s happening in LA. Although I feel guilty even saying that as our home is still standing and we are in no danger. Survivors guilt.

I feel numb and unable to concentrate or do anything quote unquote “normal”. There is a sense of guilt you feel trying to live life normally, while you can literally see a community burning just miles away. Homes of people you know and love, of coworkers. Restaurants and shops you visit often. Witnessing them all burn, literally, as we stand on our beach. An image you will try and one day forget.

The past few mornings as I’ve woken up, I’ve gone outside to wipe ash and soot off our cars, the kid’s bikes, and surfboards, and for a moment I feel a pull at my heartstring knowing that there’s another mother out there who would do anything to have the privilege of wiping ashes off her child’s things. What child’s toy burned to become this ash, that I’m now wiping off my own.

We are the lucky ones. Our lives only affected by what we see, what we breathe, and what we can so easily, wipe away. For the most part we, the bystanders, are still “ok”. Yet, anything but.

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My oldest child celebrated his 16th birthday this week. Blowing out a birthday flame for your son while fires were blazing just miles away felt like cruel irony. As a mother, I tried my best to show up for him, to make his day feel special. But to be honest, I’m not sure I did that.

At 8:30 on the night of his birthday, as we were getting ready for bed, we got a call that friends needed help. Without the blink of an eye my son was beside me changing the sheets on his bed, and getting towels, preparing his room for our friends who had just been evacuated. It wasn’t even up for debate, “they’ll take my room, mom”.

I was feeling guilty this year that we didn’t do a lot for his birthday. There was not a big “sweet 16” party and the only gifts we got him were a sweatshirt and a small pocket knife for camping. But maybe the real gift this year was not in receiving, but in the opportunity to give.

To be honest, I feel silly even talking about his birthday. His world is filled with such abundance and my feelings really have nothing to do with him or his day – but rather the juxtapositions that always exist in our world.

One child is blowing out a candle, and half way around the world another is running from bombs, and miles away another is watching his home burn.

Our human minds struggle to hold two truths at once.

As F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function”.

Holding two opposing ideas, and opposing feelings. What so many of us are doing right now watching this manmade tragedy unfold – feeling empathy and heartache for those suffering, while also trying to appreciate and savor the preciousness of the life in front of us. Beauty and pain, side by side.

“I am washing my face before bed while a country is on fire. It feels dumb to wash my face, and dumb not to. It has never been this way, and it has always been this way.

Someone has always clinked a cocktail glass in one hemisphere as someone loses a home in another, while someone falls in love in the same apartment building where someone grieves. The fact that suffering, mundanity and beauty coincide is unbearable and remarkable.

I consider whether its foolish to want to have children at times such as these and I consider that its has always been “times such as these” and I consider that its never been worse. Then, in some ways, never been better. Shouldn’t my hypothetical future child have their chance to smell honeysuckle and taste berries.

What does it look like to stare in the midst of smoke, I choose energy?
For starters, I choose to finish washing my face.
Then, I choose to look: Not away, but toward.
I choose to trust: First, in goodness. Then, in people I know.
Then, in people I’ll never meet.
Always, In myself”. – Mari Andres

Then, I choose to look: Not away, but toward.

As we are all being asked to look “toward”, I’m also challenging myself, and you, to look within.

It can be so easy, in “times such as these” as Andrews says, to want to find blame. To want to place our anger somewhere, on someone or something. To make sense of the tragedy and find the culprit.

When I open my phone in recent days and go online I’m not just heartbroken by the images of sheer loss and grief, but now a new added layer of anger, rage and blame that I’m witnessing. Quick finger pointing; The LA mayor, Biden, global warming, big oil, colonization. All targets.

And while the easy answer is “yes” to all of these. We know the answer is so much more complex and is not just the fault of one party, one law, one ideology.

It can be so tempting to want to “other” in moments like this. To place blame over there, so my conscience is clean here. But it doesn’t work that way. Because the truth is, we are ALL to blame. Me, you reading this, all of us.

We have all been adding, and benefiting from, the decisions (conscious of it or not) that got us here, and therefore we will ALL be responsible for the change required to rebuild from this.

The true change that will be required to make our world whole, safe and at peace will require us all to realize just how disconnected from ourselves, each other, and the planet we truly are.

The L.A. fires, while horrifically tragic, are no different than every other disaster we have experienced. But our actions following this need to be different. Instead of offering our “prayers”, where instead can we offer true action and change individually, to help us all collectively.

We are not free, until we ALL are free.

We are not safe, until we ALL are safe.

We are not well, until we ALL are well.

This is not a planet of you versus me. We are a sum of the whole. It’s time to start behaving as one.

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*If you are looking for places to donate/help in the L.A. area here is a full spreadsheet of places that could use your help.

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**By far and away the number one saving grace for me during this time has been my meditation practice. It is truly my life force.

If you are interested in starting your own daily practice, and become more aware and accountable for your energy, come join me for a 28-day mindfulness reset where you will have the support and daily accountably to develop and deepen your own meditation practice.

I’ve said this before, but I truly believe the number one thing we’re all being called to do this year is to become more responsible for our own energy. And for inspiration to get started today on your own mindfulness practice, you can listen to my most recent podcast episode on mindfulness here.

It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I swore I wasn’t cooking this year. And yet my dishwasher is running for what is now the hundredth time today, bread is “drying out” in my oven for stuffing, and my kids are playing Nintendo in the not-far-enough distance because I can hear them fighting.

Long way of saying – looks like I am cooking this year (and clearly a little resentful about it).

I’ve been wrestling a lot with the holidays this year. When we moved to southern California two years ago, I wasn’t conscious that we were running from family/the holidays – but maybe in some small way, I was. I don’t know.

Over the years, JP and I had hosted a lot, and somewhere between babies being little, the booze we over-consumed, and family arguments – it lost its luster on me.

I stopped enjoying it.

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When we got settled out west, I had convinced myself that we’d do things “differently.” No pressure, I said. We’d take it easy. Just us, the kids, the beach. We’d rewrite our story.

This is our third holiday season out here now, and in some way I’m still figuring out what in the hell that means. And asking myself, what is it that I want? Like really want? What would feel really good to me?

And to be honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure.

But I do know that I no longer feel pressure or obligation about any of it, and that feels really liberating.

I’m really present with my kids now on these holidays. I’m not orchestrating or planning the magical moments – I’m in them. Experiencing them. And that feels really different and new for them.

A friend of mine recently shared the concept of “cherished outcomes” with me, and as she spoke, I quickly realized how often I do that in my life. How in my head I have an idea of how things “should” be, how I want them to go, instead of simply allowing them to be.

Looking back, I realize how many holidays I spent not only orchestrating my “cherished outcomes”, but also the pressure and expectations I felt from others to create theirs. One big invisible web of pressure. On all of us.

I shared more about this topic on the podcast last week (you can listen here) around rewriting some of these old stories and cherished outcomes.

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I share this now because I think so many of us find ourselves in a similar season of wanting to rewrite holiday traditions or, at the very least, just stepping back and consciously making new choices. So consider this your (and my) reminder that we get to choose. All of it.

You get to choose how you want to feel, what you value, how you spend your time, the traditions your family either creates or rewrites. You have agency over all of it.

How this next month goes (or your whole life, for that matter) is up to one thing – YOU.

I say this all the time, but the beauty of having agency and freedom over your life is that, at any point, you get to choose again. Change your mind. Or start something new. At any point. None of this is permanent or fixed. It’s all fluid. And let’s be honest, we’re all just making it up as we go.

So maybe this month, take a moment to step back and give yourself permission to ask yourself – what is it that I want? Truly. What would feel really good to me this year for the holidays? And then go make that happen. Without guilt. Without shame. Knowing that you are worthy of “all” of it – whatever that looks like for you.

I never planned on being sober. 

If you would have told me years ago that I’d never have another drink again, I would have laughed. After all, I didn’t have a drinking problem. 

And yet, here I am, three and a half years sober.

Like most of the people around me, I considered myself a “social drinker,” whatever that even means. A great bottle of wine over dinner, a spicy margarita on our patio, and every once in a while having one too many with the girls on a rare Saturday night out. That was about as wild as my story got.

But a drinking “problem”? Never. After all, I didn’t drink any more than anyone else I knew. In fact, I felt like I drank less.

But it didn’t matter because asking myself if I had a “drinking problem” was asking the wrong question. 

What I should have been asking is, does drinking make me feel good? Does it add value to my life?

Alcohol is the only thing in our modern society that we have to have a “problem” to justify quitting something we know is not good for us.

And deep down, for years, I knew. 

As I look back on my relationship with alcohol, I can see now that it was always surrounding me. At every family holiday, at every celebration, marking every occasion. It was everywhere.

Up until now, I don’t think there was ever a milestone, an occasion, a holiday that wasn’t shared with a drink in hand. And I never questioned it. It’s just “what we did.” What everyone did. So that’s what I did.

To add to it, I became a mom as wine culture was at its peak (and I think probably still is). A bottle for baby, and a bottle for mommy.

The jokes and memes about drinking and motherhood were (and still are) everywhere.

Even now, I hear moms on social media or in my circle joke about needing a glass of wine after a long day with their kids, and I cringe. Not out of judgment of them. But out of my own judgment of me. 

That used to be me. 

I spent years in my motherhood journey, and my adult life in general, with a glass of wine in my hand. Thinking it would help me cope. Help ease the stress. Help me relax and not be so uptight with the kids. 

And yet, alcohol never made anything better. 

It numbed me for a few moments, sure. But in actuality, it only made me feel worse.

It heightened my anxiety.

It robbed me of quality sleep.

It made my body puffy and inflamed.

It made me irritable and short-tempered.

It affected my health, my relationships, and my mindset.

I was the worst version of myself when I drank. Always. It didn’t matter if it was one glass of wine or three spicy margaritas. It brought out the worst in me. 

But I had become so accustomed to this watered-down version of me, so surrounded by “social drinking” everywhere I looked, that I didn’t think alcohol was the problem. I thought my inability to “handle” it was the problem. Not the actual alcohol.

I was the problem. 

In the past, I had taken time off from drinking. A dry January here, a detox there. I had toyed with sobriety, but I never truly understood the depth of how alcohol was holding me back until I stopped for more than just a month or two.

For years, I had been hearing this voice inside me each time I drank. I knew it wasn’t serving me. I knew it wasn’t helping me. But I let myself off the hook every time. It’s just this one night; it’s Christmas; we’re on vacation; it’s my birthday. 

There was always an excuse, a way I could justify having “one more” drink. Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a glass of wine. 

But deep down, in my core, I knew something was off.

Not because of a “problem” but because I wanted to experience ALL of life, and alcohol was holding me back. It didn’t align with what I said I valued. It didn’t match all the other things I was doing to stay present and mindful in my daily life, and the internal tension it was creating was eating me up.

At the time, I was waking up early every day to meditate. Drinking my lemon water and tea. Mindful of my food choices, of my thoughts, of my stories. I was living as mindfully and as consciously as I knew how. 

And then at night, something in me shut off, and it was as if a totally different Katy appeared.

I was on autopilot, and I didn’t even see it. I’d be making a healthy dinner for me and the kids with one hand, and pouring myself a glass of rosé in the other.

But one of those actions I had to justify to myself. It’s not “that bad.” It’s just a glass. I ate so clean/healthy all day; what’s the big deal?

As time went on, I could feel it becoming a big deal. My hangovers felt more intense, even just after a glass of wine. My morning meditations felt foggier. I had a harder time getting up when my alarm went off. I wasn’t the same person.

And I knew. This thing I was doing. This “one glass” here or there that I was justifying was robbing me of my life. Little by little. It was watering me down. 

It wasn’t adding anything. It wasn’t making me more productive. It wasn’t helping me reach my dreams. It wasn’t making me healthier. 

I wasn’t going to live longer as a mom because of it. I wasn’t going to sit down and write my book because of it. I wasn’t going to move my family across the country because of it. I wasn’t going to create the life of my dreams because of it. 

It was giving me nothing. 

And yet it was taking, little by little, each day.

And inside, the more I started to see it, the angrier and angrier I became. At myself. 

Justifying this “thing” I was doing all these years. This thing that I said wasn’t a “problem” for all these years. 

And yet, as I looked back, it was a problem. It was a very real problem. Maybe not the way society so conveniently labels alcoholics as having a problem. But it was very much a problem. 

It was getting in the way between me and every single thing I said I loved, valued, and wanted to do with my life.

It was the thing that was keeping me stuck, and I knew it. 

I finally got to a point where I had lived too many days frustrated and angry over this one thing that I just couldn’t shake that I was over it. All of it. I was over me. I was over the excuses. I was over the fear. I was over all of it. 

I wanted out. 

So on what I thought was going to be a normal night of the same justifications, something shifted.

It was New Year’s Eve 2020, while visiting my family back in Ohio for the holidays. Without any premeditated thought, I stood up from the table where everyone was sitting around and talking. I walked over to the kitchen sink and poured my glass of very warm, mediocre white wine down the drain. Without saying a word, I set it in the sink and went to bed. That was the last drink I’ve ever had. 

At the time, I wasn’t consciously “quitting” drinking. I didn’t know what it was that I was doing. I just knew sitting there, around the table that night, something felt off. It didn’t feel good. And I knew something had to change.

I didn’t have the courage to say that I was quitting alcohol for good. That felt too big. Too scary. Too much of a commitment. So in my mind, I framed it as just another dry January. But deep down, I hoped it would last longer. 

As January quickly passed, I kept going. January turned into February, and February turned into March, and March into April. On the months went. And that whole time, I still wasn’t sure.

I told myself I’d just take it one day at a time. No promises. No overthinking. No worrying about future situations or holidays. 

My only promise to myself was that I wouldn’t drink “today.”

And three and a half years later, I’m still not drinking, today.

I can say confidently now, three and a half years of “todays” later, that I’m also not drinking tomorrow, and most likely not for a very long time, if ever. But I don’t look at sobriety like that. It’s not something I have to fear, control, or plan for. It just simply is. 

It’s no longer about a decision, but instead a way of life. 

It’s what feels true to me, in my body, today. And most likely will continue to feel true in my body in the future. But I’ll keep checking in with myself. Keep being honest about what it is that I value, and ensure my daily actions match.

What I value today is feeling alive and awake in my body and mind, and sobriety helps me to feel that.

Yes, I think I could do this work with alcohol still a part of my life. I’m not saying you have to be sober to live mindfully or connect to your true self.

But what I am saying is that for me, alcohol got in the way of that. And it took me becoming sober to understand all the effects it had on me. I knew before I became sober that I would feel “better,” but I had no idea how much better it would actually get. 

There’s a clarity that comes with sobriety.

Not right away. It takes time. But it’s there and it’s profound. 

Sobriety has given me a deeper connection to myself than I ever had before. I sense my feelings faster, I pick up on nuances quicker. I’m more observant, more vibrant, less reactive, and more in tune with myself and the world around me.

I joke with JonPaul that it’s our superpower. And in honesty, it feels that way. 

Like any big change in your life, though, sobriety doesn’t happen easily. It’s work. 

My first year into sobriety was emotionally brutal. I lost a lot of friends that year. Emotions that had been stored deep down began surfacing, and there was no longer a vice to help numb the pain. There is nowhere to hide, from anything, in sobriety. 

The good or the bad is that you feel it all. Always. Every day. The sadness is deeper, the heartache heavier, the loneliness emptier. 

But equally, the joy is bigger. The beauty, more abundant. The connections, more authentic. 

If you’re curious about living a life without alcohol, I can’t tell you what to do. Only you know if that’s something that feels true for you.

But what I can tell you is that for years I debated taking this leap. There were signs all around me. I just wasn’t ready to face them. I was too scared. I spent so many years continuing the same habits and patterns because I was afraid of losing people in my life, I was afraid of making situations uncomfortable, and I think more than anything, deep down I was afraid I’d fail. That I couldn’t do it. 

I was afraid that somewhere below the surface, my drinking was more of a problem than I was ready to face. That I was addicted. And that I couldn’t quit. That I wouldn’t be strong enough. 

There is only one way to make it through in sobriety: facing all of your fears, head-on. There’s no way around them, and we all have them. You are forced to come face to face with yourself, hold yourself accountable, and be honest about who you truly are. And that, for any of us, is terrifying.

But what’s even more terrifying and uncomfortable is staying the same out of fear.

I heard someone say once that the person you need to be, to face the situation you’re most afraid of, is the person you’re becoming.

We have to trust, and have faith in ourselves, that we’ll become those very people we need to get us through whatever situation we’re most afraid of. Whatever that is for you. Whether it’s becoming sober, overcoming an eating disorder, or leaving a marriage. 

We must have faith that we are becoming those people, right now. That we won’t let ourselves down. That we will rise to the occasion. We have to believe in our own goodness and our own ability to save ourselves. 

No one else can do that for you, except you.

When you leap, the staircase appears. The woman you need to be will appear too.

If you’ve been considering taking this leap, I promise you, the stairs are there. But you have to take the first step. 

Not for every day. Not for the rest of your life. But simply for today.