When I reflect honestly, I know that what makes life worthwhile are the things found at the end of an uncompromised path, a path that does not require me to go against my better judgment. Tasks or skills that leave me with a fulfilled feeling are those that require my dedicated, patient effort.

To me, a short-cut is not some huge moral failing, it’s more like the small things we shrug off that end up adding up and slowly chipping away at our integrity. Short-cuts are like the things that could have used a more intentional or honest effort but instead, we took the easy way out.

A few examples could be:

• Making plans and cancelling when you know you should follow through

• Not speaking up for yourself or others when something doesn’t feel quite right in your heart

• Cheating on a test or plagiarizing an essay when you know you could have easily put forth an effort in learning the material

• Making an excuse when you could just own up to a mistake (avoiding accountability)

• Continuing the scroll when you know you need rest

• Posturing to appear one way when your inner-self feels another

The list goes on.

The more we let these things slide, the more they eventually chip away at our real intention, our purpose.

We can recognize when we’re taking short-cuts in our own lives and we can also see how others do it in theirs.

I like to say to myself and to my friends, avoid short-cut people. It’s such a fun, catchy easy thing to say that I think it could even be a song, if I decide to write it lol.

An example of a friend taking a short-cut with you could be when some kind of disagreement happens and someone is able to say, “why didn’t you just tell me? We could have worked this out.” Well, they didn’t just tell you because telling you would be the hard-way …not the short-cut. I think a lot of the time, when someone lets us down; it points to them simply taking a short-cut that better suits the convenience of their own preservation.

Sure, being at the short end of a short-cut isn’t always so serious or offense-worthy, but if it’s happening frequently, it can be taxing, and if you’re in the bad habit of always doing it to others, it can really disenfranchise you from meaningful relationships or opportunities.

The four cardinal virtues seem to be a good system to weigh against when trying to avoid shortcuts that could possibly chip away at your authentic self. I will list them here:

1. Prudence: Practical wisdom, good judgement

2. Justice: Fairness, living honorably in community

3. Temperance: Self control, moderation

4. Fortitude: Bravery, perseverance in the face of fear

If the path you’re taking starts to make your tummy feel uneasy or if someone has treated you a certain way and it feels just a bit off… it may be because one (or more) of the four cardinal virtues were undermined or challenged.

I want to clarify— I’m not saying that in life you need to take every complicated path available, but I think, if you can be honest with yourself, you do see the value in studying for the test, you do see the value in coming from a place of authenticity and love and always speaking your truth, you do see the importance of following through on commitments, you do see the value in taking accountability …even if it does come as a blow to your ego or even if it does require you to face your fears.

You are worth it. Your integrity is reason enough to take the hard-way. Additionally, one should strive to share life with those who see the value in taking the hard-way when approaching you.

Skipping the hard-work doesn’t actually amount to a life worth living. Life is rich and fulfilling when we live virtuously. Dare I say, taking a short-cut is like laying the skip uno card over your virtues. You are worth the effort.

It was on my list for years, The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson, and finally, I finished the book.

It was in this book that I rediscovered the Chicago World’s Fair held in 1893. A fascinating, fascinating event! I’ve watched a handful of documentaries on the World Fair. I cannot get enough. I am fascinated by world building. I go deep down rabbit holes of the creation of immersive experiences— be it through the purchasing of goods or simply arriving somewhere… but that’s another story!

The city of Chicago won the bid for the World’s Fair and constructed a temporary White City— a city that represented what the makers believed a city should be like (apparently, it resembled Rome and their ivory white pillars).

The fair served as a meeting place for cultures and advancements from around the world. The event introduced the public to things like Wrigley’s Chewing Gum, Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, an early version of the Zipper, the Dishwasher, and the Ferris Wheel, to name a few. Nikola Tesla (among many other groundbreaking inventors) attended and presented to the public his impressive display of wireless lamps.

But one of my favorite things I learned about the Chicago World’s Fair is that Walt Disney’s father, Elias Disney, was one of the construction workers that helped build it. And the reason I continue to come back to this thought and fester on it is because… well, think about it, here’s Walt Disney’s father, a modest construction worker, bringing his small children to the site to see the incredible, immersive fair being constructed. It is said that witnessing the World’s Fair served as Walt Disney’s inspiration for the Disney Kingdom. While Walt Disney’s father’s legacy remains that of something beautifully humble, one could say that the inspiration Elias exposed his son to shaped Walt into the storytelling wonder that we know today.

I so often think about individual lives and what the years can amount to, why we’re all here and the difference we can make with the time we’re given. As a mother of four, I feel a race against the clock to make a lot of money and guarantee an inheritance for my children. I feel strongly that my life (when it can be) should be dedicated to improving the circumstances of future generations.

With the economy being where it’s at and the entertainment industry dwindling, sadly, for a lot of us, the idea often feels further from realization.

A couple of years ago, I experienced the loss of my grandmother. And while I did not receive a monetary inheritance, I do believe that she bestowed upon me inspiration— inspiration that could never have been bought, similar to that of the inspiration given to Walt Disney from his father via the Chicago World’s Fair.

Of course, the inspiration given to me from my grandmother was a little bit smaller in scale and instead of appearing in the form of a famous technological event, it appeared on a small workbench in her basement in Walled Lake, Michigan. But it didn’t matter if the inspiration had a place on the world stage or not. The workbench, with its hundreds of small tubes of acrylic paints, the trusty hot melt glue gun, the spools, the thread, the scraps of fabric, the bobbins of silky and lace ribbons… all proved to be dependable ingredients of worlds waiting to be created by my tiny hands that grew more capable with every attempt at making something new.

My grandmother would babysit me while my single mother worked full time. Our day always started with fluffy cooked eggs from her chickens. After breakfast, she would ask me what kind of craft I wanted to make and she always had a way through her ingenious creativity to bring my vision to life. We made dolls out of spools, we crafted small makeshift quilts out of fabric scraps, we made lanterns out of tin cans, we made insects out of sponges— I wish I could remember it all! During these crafting moments, my grandmother would play vinyl records and we would sing together… ding ding ding! Could it be…the reason for my own endeavors as a professional singer-songwriter? I think back on this time with a tear in my eye because I feel fully that no dollar-sign-inheritance could ever take the place of the gift of song and creativity that my grandmother passed to me.

Additionally, because of the thousands of hours we spent at that little workbench, as an adult, I truly feel that through my creativity, I could find a solution to anything and if not a solution, a method of coping with whatever I am up against. I cannot think of something better to bestow upon my own children. While millions of dollars (of course) help people cope, inspiration can come for free (maybe only at the price of your invested time), and inspiration and creativity can never be taken… by anyone— not the bank, not the government, not any foe!

It is with all of that in mind that I’m able to relax. I tell myself that through accessing creativity and inviting my children to be a part of it, I am teaching them something like magic. I contemplate the possibility of maybe only being a stepping stone on my children’s paths, a boost up toward the achievement of their own dreams. With each piece of inspiration I present, I can keep offering sparks. And with that thought, I am more than content, I feel full of purpose, full of intentional legacy.

There was a period of a few years where I would avoid specific music releases. For example, I avoided listening to a lot of the Disney girl stuff— Selena, Demi, Ariana— I couldn’t get with it. A lot of the Taylor Swift stuff (before now)— I just couldn’t bear to sit down and take it in. Any woman with a career that I coveted, I wouldn’t listen to the project.

My avoidance came from a place of jealousy and also insecurity.

I grew up like any other suburban girl outside of Detroit. We were a working-class family, but we had stability. I often begged my mom to let me go to auditions, to explore getting me an agent.

I always knew that I had talent, but my parents would not, could not set aside their day jobs and focus on my career as a “child star”. I laugh about the expectation now, but sometimes I have a certain kind of jealousy toward other stars who were able to explore their talent during youth and who now have remarkable careers. Sometimes, I look at the likes of the Disney girls and think there are many differences between them and myself, but one stark difference is that I did not begin my career as a child.

It’s hard not to look at your peers and compare. I like to say comparison killed the creative. Every now and then, I have to remind myself that I haven’t had a publishing deal since I was 14; I went all the way through college before I was presented with a publishing deal. And I certainly didn’t have a momager who was preparing me for every meeting, sourcing auditions or agents— my mom didn’t want my photo on the school website. She thought she should protect me, and she was right for that.

I am grateful now for my regular experiences sans childhood stardom. I do see the value in developing as an anonymous person and having the freedom to live life without being under a microscope.

Before I signed my record deal, I had worked numerous jobs in restaurants and retail. I was making very little money, but I was able to create a life for myself in downtown Chicago. I was able to support myself with little help from my parents since the age of 18. I had a couple of internships in corporate America and one particular internship at a law firm that litigated class action lawsuits against internet companies abusing consumer data. It was this experience that led me to choose my major, Management Information Systems.

In the meantime, I continued to display my passion for art and music online, networking with music professionals on f/k/a Twitter and joining collectives of indie artists. Because of this, I was able to sign a songwriting and artist development deal upon my literal graduation from college in 2016. It was what I had always dreamed of.

And so I embarked on Los Angeles with all of my never-had-been-on-a-disney-show experience and immersed myself into the pop music assembly line.

I carried the subtle resentment I felt toward others who had childhoods full of showbiz into my new songwriting career. When they became my peers or even potential competition, I couldn’t stomach the albums that all of my friends or fans were getting into. Something happens when you become a part of the machine, when you see behind the curtain. If you think too much about it, the consumption of music becomes something arduous.

I wasn’t fully able to get back on the train of passionate music consumption until around 2019, when I was going through a break up. I finally tapped into something mainstream, Lover by Taylor Swift. Despite my weird and almost removed connection to the pop star (being signed to Katy Perry and all), I was able to see myself in the music and find hope for my own future.

I realized that through listening to Taylor Swift, like I had done for a good part of my adolescence, I found that I felt some representation in it. And that propelled me forward through my own craft. I felt empowered. I was beginning to realize that by not consuming her music, I was missing out on that feeling. Taylor is a pretty good representation of a girl like me. I mean besides the fact that we come from quite different socioeconomic backgrounds and she’s much taller than I am, she is an excellent example of a girl who’s made it in our shared craft. Representation is so important… for everyone.

Besides feeling worthy of pop-stardom (lol), I also felt worthy of adventure, love, and new beginnings. Taylor’s music does have the power to make a woman feel that way; I think that’s why many love it.

And by the time 2020 rolled around, I was late to the Kacey Musgraves party, but I finally showed up when I fell in love and was isolated in my tiny DTLA apartment. The only way I could make sense of my ecstatic feelings was through Kacey’s Golden Hour album. I was finally listening to music again like a giddy girl who couldn’t resist.

Every time I pressed play, I was no longer resentful of someone crafting a “better” song than me. Every time I pressed play, I was adding to my own identity, adding to my own skill set, adding to my own understanding of my emotions.

It was more than just Taylor and Kacey that propelled me back into my love for music. I became obsessed with “Kingston” by Faye Webster, “Door” by Caroline Polacheck, and “Sofia” by Clairo— to name a few more. The feeling of these songs were feelings I hoped to replicate on my own debut album Valley Girl.

Rediscovering my love of music and my ability to see myself in my favorite songs did more for me than just provide a good time. I actually believe that when you consume art, it almost absorbs into you and thus becomes part of you. As you go to create, you are always creating through the lens of what you’ve consumed. Without stealing, you can take your favorite feelings brought on by the essence of your favorite things and create with them in mind. And you can only begin to do that when you’re brave enough to witness them.

Now that I’ve been a signed songwriter for almost a decade (yes, it is weird to be able to write that), I can see now that my own insecurity was inhibiting my ability to consume and appreciate other women’s music, and that came at my own detriment.

I believe now that when you are able to love and appreciate another’s art, only then can you learn from it and absorb it.

I’m not afraid to write that I do long for the artistic notoriety that some of my peers have achieved. I understand now how closing myself up somewhere and being afraid to let art into my vulnerable space contributed to a lesser version of inspiration.

Why be bitter when you can be inspired? Why be jealous when you can admire? Why be envious when you can take notes and apply the technique?

My advice to my younger self or a songwriter or an artist just starting out: soak up everything you love! Don’t let your own “inadequacies” scare you away from it. The audience is longing for your take! It is your duty as an artist to take in the world around you and create from that space.

Loving and appreciating another’s art never diminishes your own voice, it only adds to it.

A little note, from me to you: I know what it feels like to be afraid to be lesser than, but the beautiful art of another does not chip away at your own creation. Every voice is important, no matter when you got your start. Your expression has a place alongside the greats. Take it all in and then give it back. The world is waiting for your perspective.

And for that reason, I want to indulge and say that humanity depends on a woman’s fantasy, her idea of you makes the world go ‘round!

I can’t speak for every woman but I can speak confidently of my own experience. In my experience, there’s none more dedicated to an idea of a man than a woman hoping to make it to the finish line with him.

And I think that is beautiful. Imagine, women everywhere, believing in the absolute best version of their man, so that way the goal of marriage and the goal of procreation makes sense.

It’s interesting to think about how the entirety of the human race rests on a woman’s ability to believe in her own idea of a man. We think to ourselves, he’ll protect me, he’ll honor these vows, he’ll be a great father. And when something goes wrong, he’ll rise to the occasion, and he has the ability to learn.

But of course, it isn’t just women who remain committed to positive ideals they have of their partners. Anyone can be committed to ideas in that way. But women are the ones to say yes and become pregnant and that is how we are all here.

When we think the best of someone, we are committed to that thought and it is in that commitment that we long to remain. It’s a beautiful thing.

I think that some assessments of men are inaccurate. In other words, a women can have so much faith in her own idea that she may ignore reality, who he really is. And thus, babies still go on to be born.

This is when the idea of a man has the ability to become greater than the man himself.

And what is that about? Is that a mechanism of evolution? Have we evolved to have romanticized ideas of the opposite sex so that way we may carry on bloodlines? Is it so easy for us to believe in our own idea of a man over his actual reality so that way the human race can continue? Maybe.

I want to say thank you to women and for their undying optimism and faith that they have in men because maybe a lot of us would not be here if not for that.

Seriously, big round of applause for women. I think there are many reasons to not be optimistic, to not be trusting, to not believe in a man, and yet… here they are, there they go, leaning into vulnerability and giving a man a chance. The thought of it brings a tear to my eye, actually.

It is a woman’s idea of a man that makes the world go ‘round.

My mom, being a single mom of two, found structure and community at a local Catholic church. I grew up attending catechism and singing in the church choir.

St. Patrick’s Catholic Parish is a very standard, Roman Catholic church, but before they built the modern building in the 1950’s, a smaller chapel on the property was the original gathering place. This small single room structure was built by Irish immigrants in the 1840s. It is believed to be the oldest standing frame built by the Catholic church in the lower peninsula of Michigan. Growing up, I didn’t appreciate the history of the building and the emotional weight of the 100+ year old headstones within its tiny graveyard, but as I sit here to write this now, I feel amazed by the original settlers of the area and how evidence of their life still persists.

The lessons taught during catechism were not out there. The instructors stuck to the script, the script being the bible, and we learned the foundations of Catholicism minus the oppressive stuff. I remember a lot of our lessons revolving around concepts of gratitude, asking for forgiveness, and sticking to the word of Jesus Christ. There was never an aggressive push to instill any homophobic rhetoric. Even the topic of premarital sex was rare. The church, at least while I was there, managed to keep the lesson centered around how everyone was welcome in the house of god. That being said, my church experience was a very healthy one. I know not everyone had an experience like that. I know that many are working through religious resentment.

While I did feel the pressure of religious structure, it never asked too much of my identity and served more like a guiding foundation as I approached the rest of the world. I grew up feeling like I had actually been introduced to Jesus Christ, and that I had a direct connection to him through the power of prayer. I remember really feeling like Jesus or God was watching over me and that I could hear that voice of guidance in my mind when I needed it or that I could feel that presence in moments of fear when I needed protection. As a young person, I think those feelings are really valuable. Reassurance found within can be a rare substance when you’re young. Religion, when done right, can serve as that.

The reassurance I found through my religion was reinforced through constant conversation with god. I prayed often, on my own and unprovoked. I wrote Jesus letters in my journal, and I saw him in nature’s creations.

A lot of my conversations with God revolved around being thankful for my life and asking for forgiveness when being mean to my sister or just “sinning” in general. I remember taking great comfort in the idea that God is always with me. And during times when I was relentlessly bullied, I knew that god had my back. I often felt misunderstood at school but felt reassured by the idea that God had a plan for me and respected my dreams (that felt way too big for my small town). I felt that if I could follow the rules of my religion, God would help me find and remain on the path of my dreams.

My interpretation of the rules of my religion ultimately boiled down to this one statement: be true to yourself. The ideals of my true self very much aligned with the teachings of Jesus. I know that not everyone’s true self aligns with the word of Jesus, but for me, it was simple like that.

It seemed that everything I came up against, my true self really did know the right path. If I was faced with an opportunity to lie, I could feel in my heart what the right choice was (and at the same time, it conveniently what was taught to me through Jesus). Quite frankly, asking myself the question “what would Jesus do?” could be applied to many situations I found myself in, and the answer to that question was something that always aligned with my true self. Whatever Jesus would potentially do was unarguably the right answer to me.

Jesus wouldn’t flip this person off while driving. Jesus would have patience for the slow walker in front of you on this sidewalk. Jesus wouldn’t lie right now even though it would be easier to do so… that running narrative in my head was something I could never argue with. Jesus wouldn’t make it a big deal, let it go. Jesus wouldn’t argue with this person clearly having a bad day. Jesus wouldn’t judge this persons horrible fashion sense. The teachings of Jesus and the reality of right and wrong were very much the same thing to my young mind, and I think 99% of it still rings true to me as an adult.

So what happened to me and my bestie, Jesus? Well, I held tight to my friend. My faith in Jesus (which in this sense is equal to the faith I had in myself), led me to feel confident enough to leave suburban Detroit and attend college and university in Chicago.

I used to pray when I had no money. I used to pray when I had no opportunity. I kept my head down, and I worked sometimes 3 jobs at a time. Money found me somehow and opportunity landed on my computer screen.

In my senior year of college, I had viral moment on the internet and ended up being signed as a singer/songwriter to one of the planet’s biggest popstars. I’ve reached career heights that millions of small town girls dream of.

As I made my way to Los Angeles, I remembered feeling thankful, but at the same time that my friendship with God was weakening. It’s during this time in our 20s that I think most of us lean into the whole god isn’t real phase. Knowledge, voices, perspectives, philosophies— coming full fledged toward us like a speeding highway of new neural pathways waiting for our reaction. It makes sense! We’re only alive! It makes sense to want to feel new things.

And so I felt new things and I thought new ideas. I didn’t protect the relationship I had cultivated with god, but of course, my values never left… or did they?

I was in a long term relationship that evolved into a crash and burn, loosey goosey open relationship. I went against my better judgement, experimented with an unconventional form of “monogamy” and was left very much devastated. I knew in my heart that I was on a path that wasn’t aligned with my true self, but I trudged forward, trudging all the way into a point of no return.

I began running around town, so proudly and pseudo-intellectually declaring something like, “I’m spiritual but not exactly religious anymore. It’s the personification of God that I no longer believe in.” I would roll my eyes at the thought of this all powerful, infinite universe somehow landing in the hands of what? One god? One man? I mean, the idea is laughable, it really is.

I kept throwing myself into situations. I was living for the plot. I have a silly thing that I say, “girlies who live for the plot become step mom’s!” I like to say that because it makes me laugh, and I love a sentence that wraps itself up with a bow (even if it isn’t totally true for everyone). But as far as being a step mom goes, that’s exactly where I ended up.

I became pregnant by a lovely man (my now husband) that I knew for only 4 weeks. We share two children now. While my pregnancies and birthing experiences were virtually seamless, I did it all while holding my partner’s hand through his very contemptuous divorce from his ex. His two children from his previous marriage live with us full time now, as his ex is very much up against her own personal adversity. It is safe to say that I am a full time mom of 4. And this new period of my life happened all within a span of 5 years.

I have had many hopeless nights. Sometimes, I just feel bridled with responsibility that I did not ask for. Other times, I feel frustrated that I have all of this talent, all of this ability, and even if I do suddenly feel motivated to cultivate an audience, I don’t have the time or the bandwidth to do so.

I feel much better in 2025 than I did in the years prior though, I will say. Isn’t it wonderful when you can look behind you and see what’s been inspiring all of your fear and stress? I do believe that a lot of what was so devastating is in my past, at least I have hope for that.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel heavy under the weight of it all still. I’m through postpartum. I don’t think I’ll have anymore kids. My step-children are thriving. But you know, the challenges continue, and feeling hopeless doesn’t come back in full force, but it does find me.

And so lately, I’ve been asking myself, what was so wrong with finding a friend in “god”? What was so wrong with imagining his face and imagining myself sharing a word to it? What was so wrong with imagining the ears of the universe and that they might hear my prayer?

Isn’t the first rule of manifestation imagining yourself achieving the thing? Aren’t you supposed to play pretend and picture it? Could the same logic be applied to “God”?

When we’re explaining things to children, there’s a reason we make it simple for them. What if there’s a reason we personify god?

What if imagining the universe as a person makes it easier to chat with him? What if imagining morality and goodness and virtue as the word of god makes it easier to for one to hear? What if thinking you have a friend in Jesus makes it that much easier for you to not feel alone in your lowest of times?

It makes sense that we would make God a person. When we have a message, we look for the most streamlined way in sharing it. Throughout history, survival often depended on how quickly we could communicate a message and how quickly the receiving end could understand the message.

When they went to share the word of God 2000+ years ago, someone somewhere in some congregation may have said, the way we get this word out quickly is through this narrative: Jesus is the son of God and he is meant to teach the people.

I have reached a point where even if it is some silly desperate plight of humanity to personify God, I can’t see how it could be any worse than feeling alone and hopeless. Why not take all of that stardust and amount it to a friend? A friend who only wants the best for me, promises me purpose, and can be a landing place for the hope that is otherwise stagnant. A friend who’s moral code aligns so well with my own authentic self?

How else would the people of the world hold themselves accountable if not for believing that God is always looking upon them and can actually see them? Most of the time, for me, the judgement of my true self is enough to keep me from doing something harmful, but I can see how a third party observer’s perspective could trump my own and therefore, keep me on a path of least resistance.

I do not regret where I am now, but I do regret what I have been forced to shoulder, and I know that it’s all simply just the consequences of my own decisions. A lot of what I have to shoulder could lead directly back to moments when ignored the better judgement of my true self, the same self whose ideals aligned so clearly with Jesus Christ.

I can see how losing a the friend I had in Jesus Christ contributed to my lack of direction. And when I say Jesus Christ, I mean the better judgement of my authentic self. Why did I abandon him? Why did I abandon her?

I think it was only natural to kind of lean into the cynicism of the world. It seems it’s almost a symptom of being young: believing that nothing really matters, that no God is really watching.

As I’m still up against some really challenging, personal struggle, I am ready to dumb it down for myself. I am ready to once again absorb the most streamlined, ancient religious story to feel more aligned with myself. I feel that I am up against serious hopelessness— I can no longer afford to let stardust be nothing. I would much rather have and feel my thoughts with the idea that I am not alone in having them.

I am happy to have the opportunity to personify God and speak to him regularly again.

I want to stress to my daughter that she will be tested by her own divinity, especially if one day she chooses to become a mother.

I look forward to telling her about the sanctity of her softness, and how upon a woman’s softness rests the potential of humanity, the potential of a family. That is why a woman’s softness should be a shared effort in preservation.

Oftentimes, and especially during childbirth and the child-rearing years, the strength that a woman has to muster requires her to occasionally leave her softness.

When I think of an ideal partner, I think that someone who is right for you is someone who ushers you back to the place of your true self, reminds you of it during difficult times, and makes you feel safe enough to once again... be soft.

Of course, a woman’s softness is not only her partner’s responsibility. Ultimately, we are all in control of ourselves, we’re each responsible for how we react to adversity.

But one day, when you marry, the home you build together becomes a shared mirror.

Personality traits like resentment, quick temper, impatience, or anger may become more present in the mirror. Once upon a time, these unfavorable traits were rarely used to describe you, but under the weight of new responsibilities, these traits can suddenly feel like they dominate the self.

When one’s environment is ripe with conditions that cause one’s most unfavorable personality traits to surface, it can lead one to feel disenfranchised from the self. It’s no fun to look around and feel as though you can blame your partner for that.

No one can thrive under circumstances where it becomes extremely difficult to remain a soft version of oneself or even just a likeable version of oneself. Two people in a healthy relationship will work together to make it easier to be people that they both like.

When we enter into relationships, part of the draw is how we like ourselves within them. As a relationship ages, the perception we have of ourselves within the relationship evolves. As much as it is important for your partner to support you so that you can be a likeable version of yourself, it is important for you to be encouraging of the likeable version of your partner. Painting a picture of your partner that only depicts them as incapable will not help them to feel like a version of themselves that is sustainable.

A healthy relationship will add value to your heart, not just your bank account or social sphere. The right relationship will lift you up in your lowest of times.

Ladies, there’s a good chance that postpartum will be one of your hardest seasons. It is during this time that your partner’s ability to help restore your softness truly matters.

And so, what exactly does it mean when a woman can be soft? To each woman their own, but for me, it means that I can depend on my partner, that I’m not alone in what should be shared responsibilities, that my effort in my relationship is not unmatched, and that the urgency I apply to child-rearing is valued and reciprocated in my partner’s own way. When this criteria is met, I am able to be softer. I can relax. I can exit survival mode. I can lay down my arms. I can be someone that I like.

If your partner is unable to meet your own softness criteria, it is likely that the return to your softness will be a path less traveled, and your reflection in the mirror will be someone you hardly recognize… or worse, someone you don’t like.

Relationships break down for many reasons, and one very real reason could be that someone is simply unable to be someone they like anymore. Considering this, it is easy to imagine and empathize with someone who strays outside of their relationship.

Imagine, the hardworking businessman who can’t escape the stress of his perceived identity through his partnership, so he ventures outside of his relationship to be someone else… almost through someone else.

I’m not saying it’s right or good. I’m someone who thinks it’s better to end a relationship rather than cheat, but given all this, I think there’s room to empathize with those kinds of situations.

I think that situations where we have to be secretive in order to feel like our true selves should lead us to reflect on our circumstances and lead us toward making adjustments to our lives that better support our authentic selves. Of course, it is easier said than done.

And so, for my daughter, and for anyone out there who may need to hear it, when you feel that the best version of yourself is rarely getting air time, it may be time to retire the show.

In your relationship, it should be easy, if not simple, for you to be the soft version of yourself.

And of course, certain times will be more trying than others, especially during the child-rearing years.

Choose and continue to choose the relationship that allows you and your partner to both be someone you like.