45 Looks Different Than I Expected

​To say the first 45 years of my life humbled me would be the understatement of the century. Teenage me? Wild. Slightly feral. Fully convinced I had life figured out while actively doing everything the hard way. You know… like most teenagers. 

My twenties and thirties were basically one long episode of “Who am I and why am I like this?”. Sprinkled with healing childhood wounds, chasing goals, raising babies, building a career, and trying to keep the wheels on the bus. I was moving fast. Busy. Productive. Exhausted… and somehow still missing the point.

I never slowed down long enough to truly value what mattered most. Not really. Not deeply. Not intentionally. It took me forty-four years to realize that four simple priorities change everything…

Friends. Family. Jesus. Yourself.

In that order? Maybe. In a different order? Some days. But all of them? Always.

Here I am at 45. Life feels calmer. Not perfect. Not problem-free. Steady. Joyful. Full of love. A kind of peace that younger me didn’t even know existed. Would I go back and change things if I could? Oh absolutely. I could have saved myself a whole lot of heartache and some truly questionable decisions. The truth is, every wrong turn led to a lesson. Every hard season shaped the life I’m living now. I wouldn’t trade this version of life for anything.

The other day, I was talking to my son. Just a normal conversation. Nothing dramatic. We said our goodbyes, the usual “love you,” and hung up. That is when it hit me. I can’t rewrite my past, but I helped write a better one for my kids. That realization stopped me in my tracks. Every lesson I learned the hard way. Every mistake I wish I could redo. Every moment I didn’t fully appreciate…

I spent my kids’ entire lives trying to teach them those things.

To value people.
To ask questions.
To be kind.
To think deeply.
To love loudly.

And they did.

Are they perfect? Absolutely not. They’ve had their own “well that was a bad decision” moments. They see the world with perspective, empathy, and awareness that I definitely did not have at their age. That’s the win. That’s the full circle moment.

If there’s one thing my parents gave me, it was a deep love for family. The kind that shows up. The kind that tells you the truth. The kind that cheers the loudest and still calls you out when needed. That’s the kind of family we built for our kids. We love hard. We show up. We say the uncomfortable things. We laugh a lot. We forgive quickly. We always come back to the table, because family is the constant. The anchor. The home base when life gets messy.

During the conversation I had the other day with my son, he said something that stuck with me. He told me “Mom the world today is so different from when you grew up”. He’s right. My kids didn’t grow up in the carefree world I knew. They don’t know life without phones, social media, or the internet documenting every moment. They never experienced playing outside until the streetlights came on while your parents had no idea where you were, and somehow everyone survived. No group chats. No Snapchat streaks. No digital receipts of your teenage awkwardness. Honestly..What a gift that was. Every generation has its version of hard. Every generation needs the same foundational things to stay grounded.

Kindness. Respect. Human decency.

Teach it. Model it. Practice it daily. Slow down enough to notice people. Say hello.Say thank you. Wish someone a good day. Acknowledge the cashier, the coworker, the stranger walking by. Those tiny interactions. They matter more than we realize.

Life moves fast. Faster than we think. Somewhere between chasing goals, raising families, and building careers… it’s easy to forget the simple things that actually make life meaningful.

At 45, I finally understand what matters.

And honestly, It’s simpler than I ever imagined. 

The Friends Who Know Too Much

​Spending time with your childhood friends is good for your soul. Like, deep-clean-the-attic-of-your-heart good. I had the absolute joy of spending a week in one giant house with some of my best friends I’ve known since I was tiny and probably wearing questionable outfits and making questionable decisions.

We keep in touch. We see each other when we can. But real, intentional, “no one has to rush home to kids or dogs” time? Rare. So we did the adult thing..took time off work, packed bags, and committed to seven straight days of laughter, memories, and wildly unnecessary shenanigans. And wow… we really showed up for the assignment.

We cooked every meal. We played all the games. We relived old stories (some improved with age, some definitely not). We laughed until our stomachs hurt and our faces felt permanently stuck in smile mode. Somewhere along the way, our little circle expanded to include husbands, wives, and significant others who somehow fit perfectly into a friendship that started over 40 years ago.

Forty years. That’s not casual. That’s not luck. That’s commitment with a side of chaos.

This group has spent a lifetime supporting each other through the loud seasons and the quiet ones. We’ve been each other’s safe place. We tell the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. We show up when life gets messy. We protect each other like it’s part of the job description. Having this kind of friendship with one person is rare. Having it with a group? That’s lightning-in-a-bottle rare.

Kindergarten. Elementary school. Middle school. High school. College. Twenties. Thirties. Now here we are, knocking on the door of fifty and still showing up for each other. That deserves celebration. 

One night I looked around the table and realized I was sitting with four people who know everything about me. The secrets. The dumb mistakes. The quirks. The things that set me off and the exact words needed to talk me off the ledge. It hit me hard in the best way, because I know all those things about them too.

We are wildly different humans tied together by a bond that clearly has a very high tolerance level. Honestly, I can’t imagine life without them. And when you feel that way about people, you know it’s real. You know you’ll do whatever it takes to keep them.

There were quiet moments during the week where I felt a little sadness. That realization that I haven’t always shown up the way I should have. Times I didn’t call. Times I let life get busy and checked in less than I should. Times I was, frankly, a crappy friend.

And then gratitude showed up right behind that feeling. Because none of them hold those things against me. They’ve had their moments too. That’s the secret sauce. We show up when it matters, even when we don’t realize we’re doing it. We carry strength for each other when someone is running low. We love hard. Always have.

I love these people hard. I tell them. I show them. I don’t sit in guilt over the moments I fell short. I just make sure the time I have left is spent proving how much they mean to me.

Lessons Learned From One Week in a Giant House Together

1. We are wildly inappropriate as a group. Like… impressively so.
2. Collectively, we could survive a shipwreck. No question.
3. We are all aggressively early risers now. This is who we are.
4. None of us can party like we used to, and honestly, we’re fine with that.
5. Annual group trips are no longer optional. They are mandatory for survival.

If you’re lucky enough to have friendships like this, protect them. Feed them. Show up for them. And for the love of all things holy…book the trip.

I Flew 18 Times Last Year and 19 Times So Far This Year (Yes, this is personal growth. Please clap.)

​I have always been deeply, spiritually, dramatically uncomfortable with flying. And by uncomfortable, I mean the full theatrical production..crying, hyperventilating, and enough nervous sweat to personally hydrate a small village. Specifically, boob sweat. A truly humbling experience for everyone involved.

There was a time when my pre-flight ritual included washing down a couple Benadryl with a bottle of wine. I even flirted with Xanax for long flights until I woke up drooling on a stranger’s shoulder like a sedated golden retriever on a flight home from Sedona. Nothing bonds two humans faster than waking up mid-flight and realizing you’ve used someone as a pillow for three hours. Phoenix to Charlotte was a learning lesson in personal space for me.  

And yet… I never stopped flying. Because I love a vacation more than I hate public humiliation.

For years, the anxiety didn’t live on the plane, it lived in the days leading up to the plane. The countdown. The dread. The dramatic inner monologue. I have friends who are pilots and airplane mechanics who have given me the “flying is safer than driving” speech approximately 4,762 times. Didn’t matter. Anxiety does not respond to logic. Anxiety responds to vibes. And my vibes were screaming. Hell NO!!!!

Then came the career opportunity.

The kind you don’t hesitate on. The kind you say yes to immediately because you worked your butt off for it and you know it’s a door you don’t get twice. Then about 12 minutes later the realization hits…“Oh. This job requires flying twice a month. Cool cool cool cool cool. Love that for me.” And just like that, your girl was now a frequent flyer of what I lovingly refer to as the fart tube.

The problem? I don’t drink anymore. So my former “pharmaceutical cocktail of poor decisions” was no longer available. This was going to require actual growth. Real self-help. The kind where you stare at motivational quotes and whisper “I got this.” The first few work trips… Let’s just say I emotionally packed an extra pair of pants(use your imagination here folks). Every flight got a tiny bit easier. Not because the fear magically disappeared… but because I learned how to manage it.

Turns out, I am wildly superstitious. Or ritualistic. Or slightly unhinged. Jury’s still out. I now sit in the same seat every flight. I do the same pre-flight routine in the lounge. I am on level 4,827 of my crossword app, because nothing distracts your brain from catastrophic thinking like desperately trying to remember a five-letter word for “citrus fruit.” I created a system. A routine. A sense of control in a situation where you have absolutely none.

Growth looks weird sometimes.

Somewhere along the way, the crying stopped. The sweating stopped. The obsessive “we’re definitely falling out of the sky” thoughts got quieter. I still have the occasional oh crap flight where turbulence hits and I instinctively grab the arm of the stranger in 10D like we’re about to survive a “Captain Sully” moment together. Nothing builds community faster than shared panic.

But overall? I’ve adjusted. I board planes now like a professional. A calm, seasoned traveler. A woman who definitely doesn’t google “how planes stay in the air” before boarding anymore. Probably. 

The wild part about traveling for work isn’t even the flying. It’s the people. The situations. The adventures you never planned but somehow end up in. Airports are basically reality TV casting locations. You see humanity at its absolute best and absolute weirdest. Business travelers sprinting like Olympic athletes. Families negotiating snacks like hostage situations. People eating tuna at 6 a.m. like it’s a totally normal life choice. Strangers who will tell you their entire life story because you accidentally made eye contact near Gate B12.

Travel humbles you. It stretches you. It drops you into unfamiliar cities and forces you to figure it out. It puts you in uncomfortable situations with purpose. It quietly builds confidence in ways you don’t even notice until one day you realize you’re navigating airports, rental cars, hotel check-ins and strange cities like it’s just… Tuesday. Which is wild considering there was a time I needed sedation and emotional support just to get to cruising altitude.

Some of my favorite life moments have come from saying yes to things that scared me. Trips. Career moves. Adventures. Roller coasters at Dollywood that I absolutely did not sign up for emotionally but somehow survived. Girls trips. New cities. New experiences. Watching my kids grow into adults who are brave and independent and willing to try new things…which feels slightly unfair because now I have to practice what I preached. Turns out you can’t raise brave humans and then refuse to board airplanes. Rude.

Travel has taught me that uncomfortable doesn’t mean wrong. Scary doesn’t mean stop. And growth rarely happens while you’re cozy. Sometimes it happens at 35,000 feet, gripping a crossword puzzle and the armrest like your life depends on it.

And sometimes the wildest part of chasing your dreams… is realizing they come with a boarding pass.

Workplace, where you find your purpose and people.

​

I saw a quote recently about workplace friendships, and it stopped me mid-scroll. You know the kind. The kind that makes you sit there for a second and think, dang… that’s actually true. It made me realize how grateful I am for the people I work with.

I’ve been lucky enough to spend the last six years of my career at a company that genuinely believes people matter. Not the poster-on-the-wall version of “people matter,” but the real kind. The kind where people show up day after day, year after year, working hard with the intention to do good and do well. Not just for themselves, but because they care about the work, the team, and the people on the receiving end of it.

And honestly? That’s rare.

My coworkers….my friends…are some of the smartest, brightest, most genuine humans I know. These relationships aren’t forced. No one assigns you a “friend” during onboarding. You choose each other. Slowly, deliberately, over shared deadlines, stressful mornings, long days, and the occasional chaos that comes with real work and real responsibility.

Work friendships are different from any other kind of relationship. You see people in every season. You see them stressed, overwhelmed, frustrated, and exhausted. You see vulnerability and tough days that no highlight reel would ever include. But you also see the wins. The promotions. The pride. The bravery. The quiet moments of joy after something hard finally clicks. You see the whole human.

And not every working relationship is sunshine and laughs. Some are hard. Some are uncomfortable. Some test your patience and your growth in ways you didn’t sign up for. But those relationships matter too. Maybe even more than we realize in the moment.

They teach resilience.
They teach patience.
They teach respect and forgiveness.
They teach you how to lead yourself when it would be easier not to.

Growth rarely happens in comfort. Unfortunately. (Would love to file a complaint about that.)

Over the years, I’ve been incredibly fortunate to build real connections with my teammates. These are the people who give advice when you ask for it… and sometimes when you definitely did not. The group chats that start your day with laughter. The phone calls after long days to unpack the heavy stuff. The dinners, the celebrations, the intentional time spent together outside of work. Those are the moments that stick. Because at some point, the relationship quietly shifts. You stop being “people who work together” and become people who genuinely care about each other’s lives.

More like family than coworkers.

No matter what role I’ve held or what title sat next to my name, I’ve always valued people first. I’ve never believed in looking at others through the lens of hierarchy. Titles don’t make someone more human than the person sitting next to them. Everyone is just a person. A person you get the opportunity to connect with…..if you choose to.

And that part matters. It’s a choice.

I’ve always believed in investing in people. Lifting them up. Reminding them they matter, regardless of their role. Everyone deserves respect, time, opportunity, and grace in the workplace. What they do with that is up to them, but the opportunity should always exist.

All relationships in life matter and deserve respect. But the ones you choose intentionally, the ones you prioritize with purpose, those are the ones that take root in your heart.

And if you’re lucky, you’ll find a few of those at work.

Gratitude 10/10 for 2025… 2026 let’s continue to make it intentional.

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2025 for me, came in hot and left absolutely no crumbs. Promotion? Check. Growth? Double check. Health? Never been better. My family milestones alone deserve their own red carpet. Cameron got married and Stella got engaged. The whole crew somehow managed to stay thriving and healthy. A win in my book.

I love my kids in a way that sometimes makes me question my own parenting style. Watching them step into their lives, build love, chase goals, and create futures they’re proud of? That’s the real luxury. My family and friends…the backbone of every good story I have. They stayed prosperous, joyful and supportive. Thank God, because I don’t have the bandwidth to worry.

Now for 2026? This one’s about to be a headliner. Stella’s wedding. The adventures Brian and I will cook up (hopefully warm ones, because cold is still not invited). But the most important thing 2026 offers is bigger than events on a calendar. It’s the chance for the people I hold near and dear to stop living on autopilot, hit pause, and ask themselves this, “Does this serve me? Does this bring me peace? Does this bring me health?”

Life moves fast. Too fast. One minute you’re manifesting greatness, the next you’re digging through emails wondering who made you responsible for so much. It’s easy to let the routine lead us, to become reactionary instead of intentional. My prayer for the people I love most is that 2026 becomes the year they choose to lead life instead of letting life lead them.

To be purposeful. To be proactive. To evaluate their habits without judgment, and commit to growth without apology. To build the best version of themselves not for applause, but for peace. Nothing would make me happier than watching the people I love succeed, in their own way, on their own terms, with health and calm as their foundation.

So here’s to 2025… thank you for the memories, the lessons, and the glow-up. Here’s to 2026…may we lead boldly, choose wisely, and live in ways that actually serve us.

And in case you are wondering… I’m here, waiting to support, encourage and cheer you on every step of the way❤️