My wedding season was this year and it came with a lot of gifts. Most of them weren’t on our registry.
After my courthouse ceremony, my boss (at the time) sent me a code for a free 6 pack of protein couscous from a business that I started.
After my Mexico wedding, that same boss reduced my commission by $3,500.
And after my recent honeymoon, well… the company I helped grow from 300K to 3.5m got dismantled by the conglomerate we never met.
Despite all of this, it was the push I needed to start building the life I want again.
Because I still don’t fully know what’s next… and that’s why I write.
I write to get clear on what I really want out of my next phase of life.
I write to get lost in the clouds like the eight-year-old version of myself, lying on a grassy hill with a rocket pop melting in my hand.
I write to discover the work that excites me now.
I write to just be with my thoughts.
I write to detox from everyone else's opinions.
I write to find my own voice through words.
And I write to hopefully get better at the art of putting words together to generate a specific feeling.
So maybe that’s the real gift this season gave me: not protein couscous, a destination wedding, or even an unexpected exit. But the chance to sit still long enough to hear my own thoughts again. And for now? That’s enough.