Because of my creative nature, a strong theme in my life is living the balance between structure and freedom for my passions and talents to really thrive. Being lost in my work feels amazing… but it’s not sustainable. The aftermath of constantly being lost in a swirl of creative passion isn’t pretty.

Have you ever seen those wildly adventurous people and wondered how they do it? Where does that energy and confidence come from? How do you always find these cool places in the middle of nowhere (or hidden in plain sight)?! Why do adventures just seem to always happen for some people? Here are 3 lessons I learned in transforming from an apartment-dwelling hermit in the city to a full-time RVer on the Oregon coast!

It feels like taking a compliment from my hero, when I see the joy and support and kindness in the eyes of the ones who have loved me the most through every step of my journey. I see the relief in their posture and the ease of their breathing knowing that I am finally at peace in myself. I’ve been so deeply loved, protected, and supported by such incredible people.

There’s a unique strength to being fully present in your own life. I finally have that strength. When people ask why I go to bed early, or how I wake up so early to write and have this little routine… It’s easy for me to answer. “Because it’s worth it.” That’s all there is to it. I’m a spiraling monster when I don’t have some routine. My routine makes the choices that are non-negotiable for the person I want to be.

You would never have known it by looking at me, but before I left everything I’d ever known and ran into the loving arms of the ocean at the edge of the world… I was lonely most of the time.

I was all smiles, with this gift/curse of an eternal babyface inviting everyone in. I was giggles and optimism, boiling over.And that was real - I had so much love and gratitude for my people. But on the inside, I felt so alone.

When I was crying over wanting to see the ocean every day, I was telling myself this story that I was too busy building a stable life to take a break for the ocean. I was also telling myself that once I went, I’d never want to leave. So it was either/or and all-or-nothing, combined, that kept me

There’s an awful lot of violence and cruelty in this world. Anyone truly committed to kindness is going to feel some strong things around that violence, which means they’re going to have to stand up to the oppressors and those contributing to the violence, or else they’re not truly living in alignment with their values.

And… sometimes traditional kindness doesn’t cut it. So, then what?

I changed my life. . . and I’m leaving this decade more myself than ever, but at the same time an entirely different person. Here’s what I would say to the girl I was two years ago, given the chance.

In truth, I wouldn’t really change a thing. But I hope this message serves others and makes their journey a little deeper, a little easier, a little kinder. . . The girl I once was will never read this, but you will, and I believe you’re here for a reason.

After the whirlwind of the previous several years and a lifetime without stability. . . I thought I had no roots.

Everyone’s threshold for pain is different. What feels ticklish to one person can be agonizing for another. I think the same is true for joy… I couldn’t enjoy my dreams coming true until I moved past my old limitations for how much joy I was allowed to experience.

I’ve broken free of a 10 year relationship, opened Raped, Not Ruined for pre-orders, and taken a roller coaster of love and ethics in my personal life…

Of course I am feeling worn out, emotionally. I’m nervous about this commitment to explore joy… Is it supposed to be so messy? Am I still supposed to feel so raw and vulnerable in the light?

You have the power to tear that belief into a million pieces and replace it with a hot new truth that empowers you, that brings you to life and embraces that powerful and inspiring woman you already ARE instead of pushing her away and denying yourself the opportunity to be her.

This massive crash and burn that has been my 22nd-23rd years around the sun started with this complete loss of something beautiful and powerful inside of myself- the understanding that my healing was strength and beauty and that the way I chose to exist through suffering was worth something.

I’ve been a super healthy CFer for most of my life, and that’s not really because I’m a Cystic Fibrosis fighter or a super hero or anything. Honestly, I mostly got lucky. I rebelled against the standard western approach to CF, refusing meds and being non-compliant at every opportunity. I never took my meds, and it’s catching up with me. Here’s what I would tell my rebellious past self about taking care of her chronic illness…

Two weeks later: I hear my soul telling me that joy shouldn’t have to be numbed- that drinking shouldn’t be a requirement for relaxation and fun.

I’ve been terrified at the sometimes absent and too-often apathetic face I see in the mirror. This joy is real, for a moment, but the second a vice comes into play, I’ve betrayed the purity of the moment and a piece of my heart breaks without my permission. The self-betrayal has to stop. That’s not love. I can’t live like this.

Since I felt so frustrated that this thing I’ve been working at for years isn’t making the kind of progress I want it to, I decided I need to give myself a break… but also make sure that I’m doing all that I can to play the part of someone who has lived through the transformation and come out the other side…

For the first time in over a year, I felt safe. I felt bright and warm and safe. I felt like life was flowing through me, and like I was comfortable. Like the shimmer of peach fuzz in the sunset, you know? That simple kind of early autumn sunset on a hammock in the country, perfect.

Of all the catalysts in my life thus far, gentleness has been the most magnificent.Have you ever noticed how, when you push and fight for something you really want, it can start to feel like every little thing is working against you? When we’re desperate, when we try to force things, it makes a battle out of what could have been a walk along the countryside.

I’ve been rebuilding myself with love and dedication, and it has been the most beautiful, powerful, painful, ugly experience of my life.

Here are 10 major lessons I learned while recovering from an abusive situation I got myself into at 22 years old.