Isn’t it crazy to read someone’s blog or watch them on Insta or be part of their online world and feel that we know them? But we do. I do it.

I adore some of these online presences and they become a part of my daily decompressing time. I go in and out of different blogs or websites that inspire me or of those who I secretly make my mentors. I love seeing how my friends are doing when I read their words and learn about their offerings.

A friend said to me the other day that she assumed I was the most patient mother who never yelled at her kids. Apparently I haven’t quite communicated how impatient and overstimulated I am by my kids, or I have, and she/you don’t want to believe that.

I had to stop following a blog I loved with all my heart because, while I knew better, I couldn’t entangle the beautiful scenes she showed each day from my belief that she was the world’s best everything and I fell short. I know this isn’t true. I know she has bad days but…oiy. You know?

I have made it my practice to try to tell as much truth as feels good and serves myself, my family and my readers.

Sometimes it gets murky. Like right now Patrick, my husband, and I are going through a really deep, healing, we-don’t-know-what-this-all-will-look-like time. And I want to share the bits that will allow me to guide you and share my soul in a way that is healing and teaching and loving. Sometimes that is just a picture of sadness on Instagram after learning some tough stuff about myself. Or it is the stories I tell you in my programs.

I am asked all the time how I know how much to share, what bits and pieces I put out there. The only answer I have is my intuition. I feel really graceful growing infront of you all publicly. It doesn’t scare me, it humbles me. I feel humbled that you take time to read the words that flow. I feel humbled that you trust the process that I’ve gone through enough to want me to teach it to you after.

As a young child I have felt this guide inside of me. I knew that my work on this earth was to create some sort of magic.

While I’m creating this magic, which is me watching you step into your light, don’t think for one moment that I don’t yell or punch doors or cry into my pillow. Don’t believe that if I take one picture in the morning of sunlight on a still coffee mug that I’m not sitting there listening to my boys fighting or scared to open my emails and feel overwhelmed with all that is before me.

Part of this work of mine is to show the beauty inside of the chaos so that you too will look for yours.

Part of this work of mine is to take the fucking hard ass lesson I just had to live and turn it into something gorgeous that I can share with you.

Part of this work of mine is to take these huge leaps of faith and put myself out there in hopes that you see it and feel it and desire it.

Part of this work of mine is to surrender to the truth that my fight shows me, leaning into this light that I was born with.

Part of this work of mine is to be the magic so that you will feel yours, learn yours, know yours.

What I am in the process of right now is learning to trust myself. After years of starving myself thin and now eating potato chips and drinking Prosecco if I want to, I dip in and out of that trust. I am taking huge leaps of faith in my business and praying that I am not screwing up. I am learning how to be inside of relationships without feeling that I have to fix them or accepting only crumbs when I could have a 17 layer cake. (Although learning to accept the 17 layer cake is actually the hard part.)

Trusting myself is scary because I’ve lived for a long time on the edge of trust. Being in that trust means breaking addictions that I thrive on. It means I am in my light, aligned with the spirit of joy really. You can’t teach joy for almost 2 years and not crave expanding the meaning for yourself.

I trust myself. I trust what I share with you. I trust how I show up. I trust jumping into the unknown and that my wings will spread. I trust eating potato chips instead of kale when I want to. I trust that my family is so OK, despite all the moments I wish I could take back.

I trust myself.

I trust you to be here and feel safe. I trust that you might make up stories about my life but that you will truly know that we are all journeying together.

I will learn.

I will guide.

I will show up.

I will share my truths.

And I want to know what you think about…