The Exact Second I Realized I Wasn’t the Person I Thought I Was
Naturally, it happened over a mimosa.
Alex’s home is a creative person’s dream — full of color, story, and that gentle Southern hospitality that makes your shoulders drop. Plants everywhere. Art in every corner. A space that feels lived in, loved in.
We met almost a decade ago. I’d driven from Evansville, she from Lexington, both of us headed to a wedding at Whitehall in Louisville. I was the makeup artist; she was the cake designer. I’ll never forget how she advocated for the exact spot her cake needed to sit. I adore a woman with vision.
As we’re catching the other guests up on our origin story, I feel myself soften. It’s always hard for me to settle in around new faces — comparison, perception, the old “am I too much or not enough?” loop tries to kick in. The champagne helped, sure, but so did the warmth of the room. We drifted through conversations about horses, divorces, and art like we’d known each other much longer.
And somewhere between the third laugh and the next sip, I started complaining about someone in my life who always says the right things but never actually does them.
And the SECOND — the literal second — that sentence left my mouth?
I got spiritually slapped.
Because suddenly I saw every moment I have said the Thing and not done the Thing.
Not the “need time to plan” moments.
The “I’m avoiding the life I say I want because what if I fail” moments.
That’s when the radical honesty hit.
Like… the kind that doesn’t whisper — it throws the whole book at you.
The kind where your chest goes hot because you know you just told the truth out loud… and now you can’t un-know it.
A slideshow of my mess. My excuses. My softness. My avoidant tendencies.
That mirror was entirely too disrespectful.
But here’s the part where I turn my mess into my message (on brand for me, thank you):
I decided I couldn’t leave that brunch as the same version of myself who walked in.
And not in a glamorous “new me loading” way — in a radically honest, “okay, let’s stop lying to ourselves” way. We can’t ask people things that we’re not even willing to do for ourselves.
So I started doing. Small things. Real things. Things that actually moved the needle of who I say I am.
Here’s what that looked like this month:
I went to the opera, even though I felt…undeserving of culture.
I honored my obligations and actually rested during my menstrual phase instead of pushing through like a feral corporate girlie.
I meditated in the morning instead of scrolling.
I initiated a coffee date with someone I’d actually like to become friends with.
I invited people into my home — unheard of for my abandonment-wound-avoidant self.
I frolicked in the woods for hours like a woman in a perfume commercial reclaiming her life, but like, filled with feminine rage.
None of it was life altering exactly.
But all of it was honest.
And honesty is the part of becoming that no one wants to talk about — because it requires admitting you’ve been participating in your own stagnation. That you’ve been narrating instead of living. That the in-between asks you to look at yourself with no dimmers, no soft filters, no “be delusional, babe” edits.
So here’s your invitation from one “say-er turned back to a do-er” to another:
Let’s stop narrating the life we want and actually build it.
Even messily. Even slowly. Even while afraid.
Radical honesty first. Magic second. Momentum always.
If you want a container where you actually DO the things you say:
✨ Handled — where we knock out the lingering thing you’ve avoided
✨ The Intentional Hours — accountability, momentum, and community
✨ Pretty Deep Beauty Sessions — because sometimes you need a ritual to unlock courage
Choose your medicine.
Choose your hard.
Choose the version of you that actually matches your words.
The in-between is messy.
But baybayyyeeee, it’s where the magic happens.
