the path made clear…


Have you ever built or created something you were proud of? Something so special that it embodied your identity and how you defined yourself? I have. For thirteen years, my work at the marketing agency I founded was nearly every part of my being. I would wake up each day with unbridled energy to take on the day's tasks, score wins for my clients, and keep employees happy. The small business started in 2008 with a $2,000 loan from my grandfather, a used Mac desktop, and a desk purchased from an Office Depot going-out-of-business sale became my identity, and I worked tirelessly to grow it into something I was proud of. Over thirteen years, BAM! expanded to a company that had ten employees, twenty contractors, and was clearing nearly $3M a year. Now, at 39 years old, I can honestly look back and say it has been one of my proudest achievements.  

Working in marketing and communications, I learned that it is a constant challenge to create unique messages and craft stories that connect with a brand archetype and message. Talking to strangers, whether through a billboard or a social media post, was my daily jam.

Doing this work was an absolute joy, especially when I had the opportunity to collaborate with many different business verticals, not for profits, notable thought leaders, campaigns, and government entities. As a passionate storyteller from a young age, I quickly learned how a story or a message could resonate with people. I knew how people (consumers, friends, my parents) wanted to be talked to and how I could use a story to change their minds or influence behavior. Doing so with empathy, compassion, and clarity also made this work even more powerful and enjoyable each day. This became the cornerstone of our approach at BAM!, as well. We believed that every person, every business, every organization had a story to tell, and we could help them tell it by rolling up our sleeves and embedding ourselves in our clients’ cultures and goals. 

As the agency continued to grow, I was given opportunities to work on projects a young scrappy kid would have only dreamed of. Each day, I woke up dreaming of the next project engagement, or opportunity. My talents as a marketing storyteller sustained me. Telling these stories gave me joy, helped me find purpose, and allowed me to feel a part of something greater than myself — no matter how hard the operation of a business became. 

Running a marginally successful business and building a name for myself was a drug for me. The business and its’ success became my identity and what I was addicted to. What I began to realize towards the end of 2018 was that my addiction to business and work were an attempt to fill a void.

That dark and lonely void developed over many years, especially as a teenager and a young adult, when I felt silenced and unappreciated. It was continuously filled with hateful and distracting internal dialogue that said, “You don’t belong…” or “Your family doesn’t approve of you or your choices…” or “People you think are friends, actually aren’t…” Hearing that kind of internal dialogue over and over, can have tremendous negative impact on one’s humanity. Thankfully, over the years, I have been able to navigate what was fact, and most importantly what was fiction. We can sometimes be our own worst enemy. Understanding that is one of the first steps towards true liberation.

~

After these last two years of the pandemic, I, like many people, have stories to share about trauma, loss, resilience, and hope. As I wrote and leaned into my lived experiences over these past two years, I came to a deep realization. Despite returning to some semblance of a “new normal”, I needed a change both personally and professionally. I no longer loved the work that I was doing. I knew I had so much love for the community of Nashville that I call home, and I felt called to be in service to her and her vibrant and diverse population. So after thirteen years, on the last day of January 2022, I  decided that the current iteration of BAM! had run its course, and I needed to reinvent.

This reinvention was brought on not only by the pandemic, but a season of shit that I had to navigate at the same time. Throughout that time, I was often reminded that life can be “brutiful”— both brutal and beautiful, in chorus with one another. As I traveled through these increasingly hard days, I found strength in different ways from writing and reading, spiritual practice, and hours and hours of therapy. I learned that I could do “hard things” and these things that I was forced to navigate were important steps towards my progress of reinvention and becoming. 

Glennon Doyle’s latest book, Untamed, had a profound impact on me during this brutiful phase of life. Specifically the essay entitled, “questions”provided me with one of those ‘aha’ moments that Oprah has often talked about. 

“…Letting old structures burn can feel uncomfortable and disorienting. Rumbling freedom is scary because at first it feels like chaos. …Progress is just perpetually undoing our no-longer-true-enough systems in order to create new ones that more closely fit people as they really are. People aren’t changing, after all. It’s just that for the first time, there’s enough freedom for people to stop changing who they are. Progress is the acknowledgment of what is and what has always been. Progress is always a returning.” 

While this specific essay specifically addresses the lived experiences of our transgender siblings, I felt specifically called to that passage as I was letting old structures that no longer work for me, burn so that my path could be made clear. This passage was an enlightening and gave me the push that I needed — to begin again. 

Nearly all of my personal experiences from this brutiful life have been reserved for my inner circle, my chosen family, trusted therapists, and volumes of journals. These experiences have made me into the person that I am today. These heartbreaks have made me realize my purpose, these heartbreaks have made my path clear. I am excited to invite you on this journey with me. 

Despite having nearly a decade and a half of professional storytelling and marketing experience, I find that the art of sharing personal narrative is extremely difficult. I constantly attempt to edit midstream, and I wrestle with words and how people will perceive what I am trying to share. Our complexities as individuals are nuanced and innately beautiful, so I have made significant attempts to be daring as I write.

Those who know me will tell you that I am a multi-passionate person with broad interests and experiences. I am a thought partner, a vision caster, and someone who is constantly trying to see the potential and possibilities of whatever project I am a part of. However, what I have learned over the years is that even with the talents that I possess on a professional level, the complications of trying to share my personal stories and experiences in an authentic way are more challenging than I realized. 

While I love marketing, storytelling, and brand strategy and continue to do it as an independent contracted professional, I’ve realized that my ‘heart work’ is focused on the idea of ‘belonging’. Dr. Brené Brown has a lot to say about belonging, defining it as “being part of something bigger but also having the courage to stand alone, and to belong to yourself above all else.” This is not about assimilating, but more about leaning into the truth of “this is who I am.” 

Take a moment to think about how lucky are we, when someone shares the opportunity to truly know them. Is it a courageous act of love. We can create meaningful change when we break down the walls of division to come together and create opportunities where everyone can thrive. 

Telling the stories of others during my BAM! days was a welcome distraction from spending time to understand and share my own story. I knew that I had a story to tell; I just fought every opportunity to tell it. I knew deep down that the shame I carried with my stories and experiences was holding me back. The only way I could genuinely thrive was to break down those walls and truly let people in. 

My life story is one of loss, trauma, a lack of belonging, and struggle. I have navigated the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I have lived through hell, but have also seen some of the greatest joys. These experiences are my stories — ones that, until now, I have left to private journals as part of my own healing. I am excited to share them with you, my friends and followers, both known and unknown.

Why now, you might ask? The answer isn’t so simple, and I’m not sure I even know it at this moment in time. I do, however, truly believe that the day this essay gets posted, someone who needs these words will find it. I trust that whomever you believe in and whatever your spiritual practice might be, you were led here for a reason.  

When we speak our truth, the energy that comes from this flows through the body — it can sustain us, inspire us, and raise us to new possibilities. We limit the actual opportunities of life when we are not honest and authentic. As Michael Singer says in The Untethered Soul,“…With a permanently open heart, there is no more valve. You are able to live in love — which feeds you and strengthens you. That is what your heart is meant to be.”  Our stories are the common thread we share. The difference is how we use our energy and emotional intuition to interact with others and communicate our feelings, thoughts, and experiences with grace, empathy, and transparency.

~

In a world obsessed with perfection, glamour, success, and wealth, we don't like to publicly share our challenges or our darkest and saddest times. Instead, many of us choose to bury those things, terrified of showing any signs of vulnerability, lest our existence – and our pride – be diminished.

Inauthenticity is one of the most significant barriers to achieving true liberation and becoming who we are truly meant to be. When this becoming is halted, and we hide or suppress the pain of our lived experiences, it inhibits love from flowing through our whole being. Giving energy to the pain of our experiences precludes an ability to become reinvented and remarkable people. 

There is a clear difference between asking the world to join us on the ups and downs of life and doing the deep work of healing ourselves through meditation, writing, spiritual practice, and therapy. We cannot ask the world to join us on this path until we understand our own stories and can share them beyond 140 characters or a 15 second video. When we authentically share our lived experiences, we create a culture of freedom by showing others that things can and will get better.  I am forever grateful to those people who showed me, through words or actions, that reinvention was possible.  This is process is a journey and not for the faint of heart. 

What I have learned over these last few years, especially, have served as the foundation for making my path clear, and I want to share this gift with you. I want you to know that you are not alone. Even though it might be hard to understand or see today, each experience is but a season. You will thrive when you put your heart into the work of healing, and eventually you will see that what happened to you, happened for you. 

Truth, liberation, and freedom have often been contaminated by those who think they know more than us or those who tell us that we must live our lives according to their beliefs. Truth for each of us may be known, but it also may be elusive — its definition is challenging. I believe that truth is centered on individual experiences, not centered on the fluidity of philosophy. Truth changes for each person, and it impacts how we show up in this world, how we make decisions, and, most importantly, how we treat other people. Our view of truth is the most critical interpretation of the world. When we know our truth, we will be able to navigate life with more clarity and consistency.   

Over the next few months, as I share some of my essays, my hope is that you will see that no matter what has happened, there are always opportunities and hope for better days. You can reinvent. You can begin again. You belong to something beautiful. 

 
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the wheels on the bus

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We are meant to do hard things.