“I think that’s a moth,” I mutter to myself, pausing mid-flight on the second-floor landing. I’ve been racing up and down the stairs to help my 20-year-old son, who’s home for the summer, get out the door when I notice a tiny flutter. With a slight bend of my knees, I lean over and gently pinch the spotted brown wings between my index finger and thumb.

Have you ever found yourself answering “I’m fine” when you’re anything but?

Or putting on a brave face when what you’re really craving is connection, understanding, and a space to be fully seen?

I had the opportunity to talk about this with Jen Marples on The Jen Marples Show. Together, we dive into the courage it takes to speak your truth — and why doing so is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself and those around you.

One Sunday morning, I stood at Horseshoe Cove—a little inlet just beneath the Golden Gate Bridge—where I meet my cold-water dipping crew every day at 7 a.m.
 
I arrived early that day and found Annie already there—a weekend warrior who drives an hour up the 101 to meet us. Somehow, she’s always the first to arrive.
 
“I’m leading a mother-daughter circle this afternoon,” I told her. “And honestly, the stakes feel high.”

“Take care of that little girl,” I heard Katy say.

I had just moved the pillow beneath my hips to under my head. Out of the corner of my right eye, I could see six other bodies stretched out on their mats, resting in quiet surrender. The sun was shining—a gift. At Stinson Beach, the fog can be so thick and heavy that you don’t know where you are. But this morning, I knew exactly where I was: hosting a two-day retreat, a space I had envisioned to fill us up through deep connection.

I'm thrilled to share that Speaking to What Matters has just won the Literary Titan Gold Award! Thank you to everyone who has supported this journey.

Exciting news! I recently had the pleasure of chatting with Literary Titan about the journey of Speaking to What Matters—what inspired it, the impact it’s had, and why these conversations are more important than ever.

I was standing in the waiting room. I didn’t want to take a seat because I knew I’d be sitting for the next 90 minutes.
I’d reached out to my therapist, working through his new automated system. As I drove to Sacramento Street, I pulled my car over to double check I had the right time and address. 

There was no strategic plan–a joke that’s funny only because it’s true! And yet the response to my little book was SO big, I'm so grateful to have been able to step up and into this moment in wondrous ways.

Every single second of tender sharing, honest reflection, and deep connection happened because YOU stepped up and in and gave each other the gift of listening to each other’s authentic stories. Thank you for showing up with such an open and kind heart.

I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Dr. Doreen Downing on her podcast, where we explored a journey that's been deeply meaningful for me: finding the strength to express my true self. Growing up, I felt the need to keep up a “perfect” appearance, often avoiding difficult conversations and hiding behind a smile. Over time, especially through my work with first-generation college students, I realized the importance of speaking my truth and letting go of old masks.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was walking my Zoom students through my Three C’s framework, I heard one of them sigh, “Oh, so we’re doing the big story,” and I smiled. Her exhale told me she understood the depth of the task at hand.
 
I don’t put my groups on mute during class for this very reason. I want to hear what they have to say. I want to hear their sounds, their reactions, heck, even shifts in their chair. Even though we’re virtual, I want us to have the kind of intimacy that comes from being in the same room together. 

Two years ago, when I was waffling on turning my Google Doc into a book, I was driving on a twist-and-turn road that leads to a little beach town here in Northern California. There’s no service over the mountain (and therefore no chance to call my sister) so I downloaded a podcast.

I was shuffling down the beach trying to remember what my fitness-trainer husband told me about activating the ball of my foot “heel to toe” when I heard a kid’s voice yelling, “Daddy, Let’s go!” 

I might not speak at my dad’s funeral, she texts. The pastor wants to ensure it’s a religious ceremony. My spine stiffens. I want to text back, I think you should speak. [But I know better not to use the word should.]

Instead my thumbs tap, I hear you and yet I don't want you to regret not saying something. Only you know what is in your heart – what you really want. The answer will come. I hit the up arrow.

Last August, I was driving my son to the airport for his senior year in college. We were talking about my upcoming book launch, who would be joining the Zoom, and how this whole publishing-a-book-thing was starting to feel.

“I’m nervous, Charlie. But I’m really trying to trust that my story will land in the right hands and inspire people to tell their story.”

When I was 17 years old, a school counselor pulled me into his office and asked me, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t speak. I was too afraid. But the tears flowed. That day, he saw my struggle. He felt my sadness. And despite our differences, he saw me as the human I am.