God I love a comeback.
I could literally get drunk on stories of women who rise from the ashes after a devastating or earth-shattering event. Divorce. Drugs. Kids. Job loss. Losing it all. Give me all the stories about second acts — especially when she had to claw her way back to her own power.
There is something so intoxicating about a woman who decides she’s not done.
I’ve had quite a few second acts myself. Quitting my corporate job at MTV and building my business from scratch. Getting engaged after my divorce. Leaving New York to start over in Florida. And most recently, giving up drinking.
Every single one of those pivots required one thing — clarity.
Not a vision board or a motivational audio book or a five-year plan. I had to get crystal fucking clear on the woman I wanted to be. And I had to get crystal fucking clear on what needed to change in my life so I could become her.
And getting crystal fucking clear requires a little thing called honesty. And honesty can be brutal, babe.
For me, recently, the loudest lie was the wine. I could take a pretty photo of a glass of wine for Instagram, pair it with a cute caption, and get 300 likes. But after I closed the app, the reality was, that glass usually became four. The reality was waking up at 3 AM, heart racing, spinning with anxiety, promising myself I’d stop tomorrow, only to pour that happy hour glass again and repeat the whole fucked up cycle.
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