I was that kid in college with a briefcase instead of a backpack.
It was an identity defining accessory. I was to be a business woman.
And so I was. I wore the suits, clicked along in the heels, developed and implemented strategies, and built a Chicago life with a handsome young man named Jim.
Then Jim died of leukemia.
Our twin babies were five months old.
I fled to my hometown of Seattle to grieve.
And time marched on. I built my career, met and made a life with my husband, Kyle, and we watched those babies become teenagers.
A nagging voice followed me around for years, telling me to write the story of Jim. I fought it. But recently it turned into a constant crescendo – every time I posed a reason why I shouldn’t, it told me why I should. Every time I ignored a sign, a new one would appear.
I finally listened.
I left my corporate career in January 2017.
I’ve given myself the gift of time to think and to write. About Jim, about hope, about politics, about personal growth. As a child who wrote furiously, I am recommitting myself to that early passion, to restore my creative self. And in doing so, renovate my life into one of deeper thought, connection, and being in the here and now.
It’s my own personal mental renovation.
Please join me.
If you would like to get in touch, you can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org.