This tough exterior I always considered part of my being has served me well at times, even and especially as a highly sensitive person. I know, it seems dichotomous, but so many of us actually embody both things because we must in order to survive this world.

But survival isn't our only option. Thriving and expanding are also here for us, and as rebels, we often need to remember that we are not alone in this work, and that it isn't a sign of weakness to ask for support. 

Recently, I hosted a week long training all about copywriting. I've done this particular training before, so I wasn't starting from scratch, though I was stretching my wings a little further with how I was delivering the info and creating an offer for an upcoming marketing program. 

The biggest stretch, beyond writing new content and diving in deeper to my own copywriting and marketing efforts, was asking for help. And not just the asking, but then allowing myself to receive it, openly. 

When I...

I grew up with two older brothers, each with their own way of moving through the world. I always wanted to emulate them in one way or another, and--as little sisters do--became a little tough girl.

As a teenager I like to think I exuded a rough and rebellious exterior and a deep belief that I didn't need anyone. I went through a phase of punching mailboxes and being angry at the world. I smoked cigarettes and hid shots of vodka in my Wendy's sprite cup. 

But I wasn't a "bad" kid--or all that tough. I was in show choir, got decent grades, and preferred to sleep in my own bed and write poetry in my journal instead of staying late at the party. I just surrounded myself with a bunch of guys and a few close girlfriends who knew me well enough to call me on my BS and hug me when I needed it most. I love them still.

Growing up without sisters, I navigated the world of girls differently. I always felt one degree off from my girlfriends, even if it was just a misperception. I just...

If you're looking for Part I before you read this, don't bother. I'm starting here at Part II because the before existed in another space and time. Literally. A different internet space and nearly ten years ago.

I've been hoping to write a book for quite some time. "About what?" you may ask. Which is a relatively bright question. But the answer is muddy.

You see, I've always felt like I had a message to share with others. I don't know why, and I'm learning that the why may not really matter so much any more. But the vision pulls me, and I'm allowing it to do so more fully these days.

Surrendering to what is and following my heart.

Every Day, I'm Brave is just a piece of the journey. The piece that has taken my anxious brain on a circus ride of healing and learning and practice. LOTS of practice.

So I've learned a few things along the way about showing up, even when it feels like the last thing you want--or can--do. And I've learned a few things about what showing up for yourself...