Endings are hard as hell. Yet fresh restarts can feel hopeful and exciting at the same time. There’s room for both feels to take up space.

Then I realized - breaking some trust with myself isn’t about fulfilling promises to never eat some Girl Scout™ cookies or pizza.

At that moment, my gut proved itself once more how it’s better than a crystal ball. I discovered how silence is a much harsher response than the initial conversation laced with “sorry” and “I don’t know”.

While walking into the ER entrance, I was so dazed from my busy work day, teenagers, and getting my brain to stop going through the details of worse case scenarios - i.e. Danny dies, I catch Covid and die, our boys are without parents, and Alex lives the rest of his days without someone reminding him to shower each morning. 

I didn’t even realize I was allowing it most of the time. I was basically writing a Tracker Keeper™ full of permission slips to stay small, quiet, and uncomplicated.

Leaving the known of a toxic work environment for the freshness of the unknown was the best decision.

I’ve done this before, but it’s just been lying dormant for the past couple of years. It was the reminder I needed of how I love communicating/educating people in a way that flips the script.