We think about it every morning. What the day requires. What the room calls for. Sometimes it starts with a feeling. For me, it starts with my socks. Either way, we know. We have always known how to dress for the day we are actually having.

Most of us are very good at this. We have been doing it our whole lives.

Well. Here we are at the end of May.

True and truth are not the same thing. We may have been carrying something as fact for decades that was never actually our truth. The ones underneath all of it, those are ours. They always were.

New post is up.

thereturningproject.com/journey

Well, hello there. Today I have turned 64.

64 feels like 54 but older. The body parts have staged a quiet revolt. I still cannot reliably dress myself. I am almost always never late. And somewhere along the way I crossed a line I did not notice crossing.

New post is up. thereturningproject.com/journey  |  thereturningproject.com/let-it-stand

Happy Mother's Day. And Happy Mother Day, no apostrophe, no s, for everyone else who does not fit the Hallmark definition but shows up anyway.

The most stubborn stories are not always the ones that hurt the most. Sometimes they are just the ones that seemed the most obvious. New post is up.

How did we learn who we are? We learned from the people around us. From the moment we arrived. Not with a formal pronouncement. Just in everyday life.

The story started before we had language. And it has not stopped since. NOT FOR ONE SECOND.

We made it to the end of April.

Not the end of the journey. Not the end of the committee, which is still very much in session and still has opinions about your sock selection and at least seven other things before 8am. But the end of this particular walk together. And before we step into May I want to take one moment to look at what actually happened here.

Because something did happen. Even if it was quiet. Even if it was small. Even if the committee barely noticed.

I want to ask you something. I hope you can be honest with yourself when you do.

Have you ever heard your own voice? Not your speaking voice. Not the one that orders the tea and runs the meeting and answers the emails. The other one. The one that is yours before anyone told you who you were supposed to be.

Take a moment with that.

I want to ask you something before we go any further.

Who was the first woman’s voice you ever heard?

Not the first voice. The first woman’s voice. The one that showed you, before you had words for any of it, what a woman was supposed to look like. How she was supposed to move through the world. How much space she was allowed to take up. How much of herself she was permitted to show.

I have three drawers of socks. Three. And somehow the greatest daily crisis of my life happens right there at the sock drawer.

Because it is never just about the socks.

There is a whole committee in there. Voices I never invited, issuing opinions, holding formal proceedings, asking what happens if you cross your legs in a nine o'clock meeting and someone sees the orange ones and that is just, forever, your whole impression.

You will know when it happens.

Not because something dramatic occurs. Not because the in spite of disappears entirely or because you wake up one morning feeling transformed.

You know the tired I mean. The one you have always known. The one you thought was just how life felt. You are only now noticing it for the first time.

"For a long time, I thought the fuel I was running on was mine.

I was driven. I was focused. I was getting things done. What I did not know was that I was running almost entirely on borrowed energy. Someone else's doubt. Someone else's voice. The quiet need to prove something to people who were not even watching anymore.

Are you doing what you're doing because of something?

Or in spite of someone?

Both will get you moving. But only one is sustainable.

'In spite of' belongs to whoever you're proving wrong. It's exhausting.

'Because of' is yours. It doesn't collapse when they stop paying attention.

What are you doing right now, and why are you really doing it?

Read the full post on the blog (link in bio).

Inward. Onward. Go.

Not everyone celebrates when you grow.

Some people get confused.
Some get uncomfortable.
Some get quieter.
Some push harder.

I tried to be calm after I said no.

It lasted about twelve minutes.

Then I wrote the follow-up.
Deleted it.
Rewrote it.
Deleted it again.

For most of my life, “no” came with a paragraph. I’m sorry. I wish I could. Let me explain. Maybe next time. Here’s why.

For most of my life, “no” came with a paragraph. I’m sorry. I wish I could. Let me explain. Maybe next time. Here’s why.

Weekend plans: talk to no one but my cats.

New on the Path.

I was standing in front of my refrigerator at 11:30 at night, staring at shelves full of food I didn't want. I wasn't hungry. I was looking for something else entirely.

New on the blog: what happens when 'fine' stops being enough."