Presence and Puffy Eyes

Despite the absence of a paycheck during this season of unemployment, I find myself deeply grateful for something far more valuable during this moment—extra time with my family. This is the last summer before my daughter (and only child btw) enters kindergarten, before the school bus arrives at a fixed time, homework, and the rituals of elementary school begin.

Since February, in between applications and networking, we’ve instituted “fun days” each week, during which I pick her up early from school and we escape (cheaply) to playgrounds, farms, and, now that summer’s here, have pool-hopping adventures. I’m committed to putting the “fun” in the “fun and freedom” thing this year, with or without a job.

This upcoming week is a big one—she’s graduating from preschool and taking the stage for her first dance recital. Even writing that makes my eyes well up. She’s been singing the same songs for weeks, songs I eventually realized were for graduation. Her tiny voice belts out A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman like she’s performing at Carnegie Hall. Her teacher even let her pick from the treasure box for “singing so loud” during their practice. She was proud.

Lillie was born in April 2020, right as the world shut down. I gave birth in eerie strangeness. Parks were closed, going outside felt dangerous, and my labor and delivery doctor entered the delivery room wearing what looked like one of the Apollo astronaut’s spacesuits. It was terrifying. But it was also strangely beautiful. Everything shutting down forced me to be more present.

She’s more than my daughter—she’s my hype woman, my creative director, my co-conspirator in goal-chasing and keeps me honest. She randomly tells me I look beautiful when I need it the most, critiques my décor with authority, helps me cross off bucket list items, told me I said “furlough” too much, and surprises me daily with her curiosity and observations. Just yesterday, while watching a movie featuring Louis Armstrong, she asked, “Was his voice like that as a kid?” The question made me laugh out loud, and genuinely wonder, wait, when DID it become so raspy?!?

Her graduation is Friday. Her first dance recital is Saturday. And if you’re looking for me this weekend, don’t. I’ll be a salty, puffy mess of emotion, joy, and disbelief. But also so full of gratitude. Gratitude for feeling it all so deeply. For witnessing her becoming. For getting to be fully present, just like I was when she entered this strange world.

So yes, apologies in advance to anyone seated near me at graduation. I’m already embarrassed for myself.

Worthy of Our Time

Everyone seems to be gleefully soaking in the very predictable Trump/Musk breakup. And part of me gets it. The implosion was imminent. These two toxic, self-serving figures have done immense damage, and it was only a matter of time before they turned on each other. That kind of ego always eats itself eventually.

But as the memes circulate and the jokes fly, I feel something different: sadness. This isn’t a punchline for me. It’s not a game. I lost my livelihood because of these two dipshits. My income. And far more devastating — programs that supported HIV research, cancer treatment, and basic public health were gutted under their influence. What they broke isn’t theoretical.

And still—still—I can’t root for their destruction. That’s not who I am. I’ve spent my career building things that help people, believing in community, in care, in leaving the world a little less cruel than we found it. 

I vote not to punish, but to protect others because I believe we are only as strong as our weakest link, even those who don’t vote like me.

(I want every person who sees themselves as my political opposite to read that line again.)

What breaks me is this: we live in a society where men like this fail upward. Repeatedly. Abuse, lies, corruption. None of it sticks. They get the mic, the money, the stage, while the people they harm are left to sweep up the pieces quietly, without spotlight or support.

I’m tired. I’m angry. And I’m heartbroken by the way power shields the worst and forgets the rest. We deserve better. All of us.

In a more hopeful moment, I toured the National Academy of Sciences in D.C. today. I’ll leave you with something Einstein once said:

“Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.”

Tenderly Embracing Being a Nobody

Once I nearly completed my book in February, I began querying agents—submitting to over 100 strangers after an initial round of edits. It’s rough trying to get a book published while applying for jobs at the same time. The last three months have been filled with a lot of rejection.

Like a lot, a lot of rejection.

But the publishing world offered something the job market rarely does: feedback. A few agents took the time to respond with thoughtful notes on my pitch, which I genuinely appreciated. One of the most consistent? I don’t have a strong enough following. If I want a shot at traditional publishing, they said, I need to build an audience, then come back.

Essentially, I’m a nobody.

But here’s the thing: being a nobody is exactly the point.

Years ago, I left social media on purpose. Hell, it was even ON my bucket list. I knew it might hurt my career. I knew it might close doors. But the cost of staying online, of living in a society that values performance over presence, was greater. Logging off preserved my mental health, my sense of self, and ultimately, gave me the space to live a life worth writing about.

I’m not young and hot. I didn’t do something extreme like quit my job, sell my house, and travel the world to “find myself.” I’m a middle-aged woman living in the suburbs. I come from privilege, sure, but not wealth. I have debt. I have gray hair and my pants stopped fitting a year ago. Like Adele, I’m not here for the Tik Tok audiences. Through it all, I’ve tried, imperfectly and relentlessly, to live with intention.

That’s the story I wrote.

This book, and the bucket list that inspired it, was built in the in-between. Written during naptimes and commutes, while job-hunting and parenting, while absorbing a world that often feels too heavy. It wasn’t born from a retreat. It came from a real life.

So maybe I’m not the kind of writer the publishing world bets on. Maybe I don’t fit the mold of a “marketable” author. But I believe in telling stories without waiting for permission. I believe in the power of saying something honest, even if nobody’s watching.

And here’s what else I believe: this book will find a home.

Maybe not with a traditional publisher. But somewhere, whether through independent publishing, a small press, or one curious reader who sees something of themselves in my words, this story will land. I didn’t write it for algorithms. I wrote it for the people living real, messy, meaningful lives in between the milestones. For those who don’t often see themselves in glossy memoirs.

This book wasn’t written by somebody.

It was written by a nobody—and that’s exactly why it matters.

Living on Purpose (When Nothing Goes as Planned)

When I was first put on unpaid furlough in February 2025, I cried. Not because of the job itself, but because of what it signaled—a loss far bigger than a paycheck. I grieved for what was happening to our country. I grieved on behalf of communities that would bear the brunt of cruel new policies, and for children around the world whose lives hung in the balance as global aid was dismantled. I mourned for my team, the bright spot of every workday, now facing instability in a time of chaos.

But after a few hours of tears and self-pity, I did what I do best: I created a document.

In it, I started producing my life. 

That document became my roadmap. I’d never been one to cook regularly, but with every dollar suddenly precious, I added a weekly “make a big pot of soup” ritual, nourishing and budget-friendly, right next to a 30-day yoga challenge. Each pot of soup on Friday and each day of movement marked another week/day through furlough — a rhythm, a reminder, and a release. I organized the entire month around four pillars:

• Improve myself

• Connect with others

• Make stuff

• Learn something new 

• Apply for jobs

• Have fun (even with no income)

I filled the calendar with free or low-cost activities that aligned with those goals. I also turned to over a decade of old bucket lists to find forgotten ambitions I could finally bring to life.

By the time I hit 60 days of unpaid furlough, I completed 14 goals, some new, some a decade old. And through it all, I rediscovered something that unemployment and uncertainty couldn't take from me: a deep sense of purpose.

My job has never been my purpose. But the career I’ve built, helping mission-driven organizations tell stories that spark change, has always been aligned with it. And in my personal life, The Great Goal Rush has become the way I spark change in myself. As a beautiful byproduct, it’s inspired and sparked others to do the same.

I’m proud of that.

I was officially laid off April 17th and today I’m at 90+ days without a salary. That’s not ideal. But staying sane, joyful, and purposeful in the face of uncertainty? That’s a different kind of wealth. It’s also a powerful reminder that the goals we set, even the ones scribbled down a decade ago, can still be timely, still be healing, still be exactly what we need.

This is how I stayed grounded during the collapse of a system.

And I can’t wait to share the monumental goals I completed during this season.

My Superpower

One of my greatest strengths is finding joy and purpose even when the world feels like it’s on fire, a mindset shaped and strengthened by a decade of creating yearly bucket lists. That ritual, which my husband and I blogged about in The Great Goal Rush (you can google it), has taught me to chase joy with intention, lean into discomfort, and say yes to things that stretch me. “Write a book” was on my 2024 list and I finished it during my furlough in March 2025. The book captures everything The Great Goal Rush has been for me: a compass, an anchor, and a reminder that even when life feels chaotic, we have control in how we respond. 

Lately, in between applying for literally hundreds of jobs (350 if you want me to be exact), I’ve been returning to the bucket list items I never got to finish. Yes, it’s a distraction, but it’s become a discipline. Movement keeps me grounded. Staying focused, hopeful, and in motion? That’s not just my coping mechanism—it’s my superpower.

Another hidden talent: squeezing in writing anywhere I can, including on the rec center floor outside the bathroom during my daughter’s ballet class.

The big dream, besides getting this book published, is to turn this superpower into something bigger. What does that look like? TBD. My mission is to spark movement—within ourselves and in the world. But if you’re curious about what comes next, I’m building an email list to share updates, stories, and sneak peeks as this evolves. 

There’s a little “sign up for news and updates” doohickey on the contact area below if you want in. Or just reach out to me and I’ll add you. 

It’s Not You, It’s Them: Unemployment in 2025

I want to speak to something that’s really been weighing on me on behalf of everyone out there who’s navigating the exhausting reality of job searching right now.

Lately, I’ve seen so many posts from so-called experts telling the masses how to “optimize” our LinkedIn profiles or “fix” our résumés to catch a recruiter’s eye. And sure, those tweaks can help.

But let’s be real: this isn’t a job market—this the Job Olympics.

I was recently selected along with 8 others for a role where I was one of 900 applicants. And that’s not unusual. It doesn’t matter how many keywords you stuff into your profile, how expert your experience is, how tailored your cover letter reads, or if you’ve had the lived experience –sometimes, it’s luck. Sometimes, it’s timing. And too often, it’s neither.

Even when you do get noticed, the system is still broken. I had five rounds of interviews for a position–one with the CEO, one with the team I’d manage, and completion of reference checks. I was so sure I was going to get the job, I booked my first haircut in a year to look fresh for the first day (this is my new haircut).

And then? They decided to reopen the search. I didn't cry at the birth of my daughter, but I cried all day after receiving this email.

I’m not sharing this to discourage anyone. I’m sharing it to say: this is not your fault.

If you haven’t landed the job yet, it’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because the system is overwhelmed, imperfect, and broken.

Guest Speaking at a High School

I’ve been wanting to explore more ways to speak with young women and girls about purpose, creativity, and resilience, which led to this opportunity. Now that I’ve been placed on unpaid furlough, I suddenly have more room on my calendar to dedicate to it.

I recently spoke to a high school leadership class, and the teacher told me what students need most is to see themselves represented. That meant I needed to focus less on polished accomplishments and more on how I got here—my actual journey.

As I prepared, I found myself reflecting on the last 20 years and realized I’ve been doing some version of this “job” longer than I thought. With my first communion money, I bought a camera, I got involved in the yearbook in middle school, and journalism in high school. I was always trying to document the world around me. So in a way, it’s no surprise I landed where I am.

Of course, I couldn’t resist leaving them with a few nuggets of wisdom:

• Lean into what gives you joy

• Be the change you wish to see in the world

• Appreciate the simple things—nothing is guaranteed

Then came Q&A, and wow—these high schoolers were next level:

• “Have you ever experienced misogyny in the workplace?”

• “How did having a kid change your career?”

• “Have you ever had to sacrifice what you believe in to get something accomplished?”

Okay, little Andrea Mitchells. I came to share some wisdom, but in the end, I left inspired by their courage, clarity, and curiosity. They’re thinking critically, asking bold questions, and I truly hope they shake up the system. Actually—please, go do it.

A Love Letter To My Career

Since it’s Valentine’s Day and all, I want to profess my love… of my career….

I started out producing fashion shows for kids and attending toy conferences at AOL (yes, that AOL). I moved onto National Geographic Society, where I helped produce games, content, and educational videos for kids. At Nat Geo, my team won a Webby and at the after party, I got to experience how it feels to be tightly embraced by Buzz Aldrin.

I realized that I wanted to expand my portfolio—I wanted to use content production and storytelling to make the world better than how I entered it. I entered the nonprofit world at No Kid Hungry. I wrote scripts for food-shaped puppets advocating for kids to receive food stamp benefits, ghost wrote blogs, oversaw the production of websites promoted on talk shows (and once asked to touch up an unnamed spokesperson’s hair to make it a little less gray).

I moved onto another mission-driven organization after three years, the National Endowment for Democracy, where I helped to elevate the voices of activists around the world. I remember feeling the weight of this important work while interviewing a Pakistani political cartoonist who survived an assassination attempt.

For the past three years at the International Rescue Committee, I have had the honor of leading a team dedicated to telling the stories of displaced people and refugees worldwide. If even one person’s perception changed about the 120 million people forcibly displaced, then it’s all been worth it.

The recent cut to USAID have put our client’s lives, programs, and critical aid efforts at risk, and much less importantly in the grand scheme of things, I now find myself placed on unpaid furlough for the next 30 days.

And yet, despite the frustration, heartbreak, and cruelty that sometimes overshadows the good, I still have the audacity to believe that we can make a difference.

I love my weird, unpredictable, deeply meaningful career, and I hope I can continue to use my voice, my skills, and my unwavering belief in change to keep making an impact—wherever I land next (or if I’m brought back at the IRC!).

Word of the Year: Fun & Freedom?

At the start of 2025, as I do for each new year, I come up with a word or words that are my North Star for the year ahead. In January, I declared it my year of “fun and freedom” — freedom from body image baggage, job stress, and anything that dimmed my creativity. I was finished writing the book that kept me awake at night, continued to tackle my bucket list, and as always, leaned hard into joy.

Then life delivered its plot twist: an unpaid furlough, courtesy of an unelected bonehead and the felon-President who dismantled USAID without a second thought. After years of pouring myself into the nonprofit space and humanitarian work, it’s all unraveling and I’m just collateral damage in whatever this new system is.

The irony isn’t lost on me. Now “fun and freedom” includes job boards and writing a billion cover letters. But in a strange way, the theme still fits. This year has been about saying yes to what fills me up and getting clearer on what comes next.

If you want to follow the ride or just need a little push to chase your own joy, see the contact box below and hit “sign up for news and updates.” Let’s move forward—on purpose.