Truth Over Tolerance
Not everyone will treat you with kindness—and that’s on them. Rudeness, cruelty, dismissal… those choices reflect what someone brings into the world, not what you deserve. You are not responsible for someone else’s inability to show respect or humanity. Recognize it for what it is—and don’t carry what isn’t yours.
This is your reminder:
You don’t have to internalize someone else’s limitations. Let their behavior reveal them, not define you.
SLAY on!
If I’m being honest, most of the time…I don’t feel ready.
Whether it’s a new opportunity, a big decision, or even sitting down to write something like this—I rarely feel 100% ready. If left to my own devices, I’d keep fine-tuning, researching, adjusting, and second-guessing. I’d wait until everything was “perfect.”
But what I’ve learned on this path is simple and powerful: ready isn’t a feeling—it’s a decision.
We tell ourselves we’ll start when we feel more confident.
We’ll speak up when we feel more prepared.
We’ll leap when we feel less scared.
But the truth is, that feeling of readiness? It doesn’t always show up. And if it does, it usually comes after we’ve already taken action—not before.
The illusion of “readiness” keeps us stuck. We wait, thinking there’s some magical moment where we’ll feel different—bolder, braver, more equipped. But most opportunities don’t wait for us to feel ready.
They ask us to decide to be ready.
In my life, there have been countless times I’ve had to make that decision.
Sometimes it was because of a deadline.
Sometimes it was because an opportunity had an expiration date.
Sometimes I just knew if I didn’t move forward, I’d stay stuck.
And every time, I’ve learned this: I didn’t need to know everything. I just needed to know enough to start.
Being ready doesn’t mean having every answer. It doesn’t mean knowing the full path. It means saying, “I’ve got what I need to take this step, and I’ll figure the next one out as I go.”
One thing I’ve carried with me on my journey is this simple reminder:
Do what’s in front of your hands.
That means staying grounded in the present step—even when your mind wants to jump five steps ahead. Yes, it’s wise to have a vision. I like to look a little ahead, to prepare for what’s coming. But the real growth? It happens in the now.
When you focus on what’s right in front of you—just the next task, the next decision, the next act of courage—you start to build momentum. And that momentum leads to clarity, confidence, and more opportunity.
Waiting until you feel ready often comes from a deeper fear of making mistakes. But perfection isn’t the goal—progress is.
You’re allowed to make messy starts.
You’re allowed to learn as you go.
You’re allowed to pivot, evolve, and adjust your plan.
Because the truth is, the journey is the point. It’s not about getting it “right” the first time. It’s about moving forward, learning, and becoming.
You’re not behind. You’re not unqualified. You’re simply standing at the edge of the next thing. And all that’s left is to decide to begin.
If you’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to start, here’s your sign: stop waiting.
Make the decision. Be willing to show up before you feel completely ready. Trust that you’ll grow into each next step—and that you already have everything you need to begin.
The truth is, you won’t always feel ready.
But you can always choose to be.
Let’s check in, SLAYER:
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s something you’ve been waiting to feel ready for—and how can you choose to begin today instead?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck waiting for the “perfect moment,” send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
Let the Shadows Fall Away
Not everyone is meant to walk beside you when you begin to shine.
As you step into your truth, the people who only saw your potential in pieces may start to fade. And that’s okay.
You weren’t made to shrink, edit, or filter who you are just to be accepted.
The more you show up fully—without apology—the more you create space for relationships rooted in real connection, not performance.
Let go of the need to be understood by everyone.
The right ones will never be afraid of your light.
SLAY ON.
For most of my life, I felt like a chameleon. I’d shift and mold myself to fit the people I was around. I convinced myself that if I acted the way they wanted—or the way I thought they wanted—I’d finally belong. But deep down, it didn’t feel right. And often, I’d leave those interactions feeling drained and wondering, “What’s wrong with me?”
I’d watch others with envy. They seemed to flow effortlessly through social situations, forming connections with ease. I couldn’t understand why it felt so hard for me. Why did it feel like everyone else had the key to belonging, while I was stuck on the outside looking in? I’d analyze every interaction, wondering what I did wrong, why I couldn’t seem to fit.
The truth is, it wasn’t about being wrong. It was about being in the wrong rooms.
It wasn’t until I began my journey of self-discovery that the truth hit me: there was nothing wrong with me. I just wasn’t with the right people. I wasn’t being true to myself, and I wasn’t choosing connections that were aligned with who I really was—because, if I’m honest, I didn’t even know who I really was.
I’d spent so long being a version of myself that I thought others wanted me to be, that I lost touch with my core. The parts of me that were silly, passionate, curious, and maybe a little bit weird were buried under layers of trying to fit in. I muted my personality. I downplayed my dreams. I laughed at jokes I didn’t find funny. I agreed with opinions I didn’t fully believe in. All because I thought that was the way to be accepted.
But acceptance built on pretending is fragile. It’s conditional. It’s a house of cards ready to collapse the moment you stop performing.
Those people I admired weren’t more skilled or more likable than me—they were just authentic. They were showing up as themselves, unfiltered and unafraid. I, on the other hand, was performing a version of me I thought was acceptable. And in doing so, I was hiding the parts of myself that actually made me unique and magnetic.
For so many of us, the idea of being our true selves feels risky. Maybe we’ve been hurt in the past when we showed vulnerability. Maybe we’ve faced rejection, criticism, or ridicule. Maybe we grew up in environments where it wasn’t safe to be fully seen. Over time, we learn to armor up. We put on masks. We adapt.
But here’s the thing: that armor may protect us from pain, but it also shields us from connection. When we hide our truth, we also hide our light.
The reason social situations felt so hard for me wasn’t because I was broken or unlikable. It was because I wasn’t showing up as me. I was exhausted from pretending. And deep down, I felt the ache of knowing that I wasn’t being true to myself.
Everything changed when I started to get curious about who I really was. I asked myself hard questions:
The answers were both surprising and freeing. I realized that the right people—the ones who would become my “chosen family”—weren’t the ones I had to impress. They were the ones who loved me for me. They were the ones who felt easy to be around, where conversations flowed, laughter was real, and silence was comfortable.
I stopped chasing approval from people who didn’t value my authenticity. I started prioritizing connections that felt reciprocal, nourishing, and aligned with my values. Slowly, my circle shifted. And with it, so did my confidence.
Finding your people doesn’t happen overnight. It takes patience and courage. It requires being honest with yourself about the relationships in your life:
If the answer to any of those questions is “no,” it might be time to reevaluate.
Here’s what I’ve learned: the right people will get you. You won’t have to explain yourself or perform. They’ll love your quirks, celebrate your wins, and hold space for your struggles. They’ll lift you up, not tear you down.
And the beautiful thing is, when you start showing up as your true self, you naturally attract those people. Authenticity is magnetic. When you let your real light shine, it draws others who resonate with that light.
One of the hardest but most liberating steps is letting go of relationships that no longer serve you. It doesn’t mean those people are bad or wrong; it just means they’re not your people.
Letting go creates space—space for new connections, space for self-growth, and space for deeper alignment. It allows you to breathe easier, to trust more, and to open your heart to those who are meant to walk this journey with you.
I promise you this: when you find your people, you’ll look back and realize that you were never broken or wrong. You were simply waiting for the right connections to show you how beautiful and worthy you’ve always been.
Here’s what I want you to remember, SLAYER: you don’t have to dim your light to fit in. The world doesn’t need a watered-down version of you. It needs you—fully, unapologetically, courageously you.
When you find your people, everything clicks into place. Life feels easier. Conversations feel more meaningful. Connections deepen. And you start to trust yourself in ways you never thought possible.
Because finding your people isn’t just about them—it’s about you finding yourself. It’s about coming home to your truth and realizing that you were never meant to fit in. You were meant to stand out.
Take a moment to reflect and journal on these questions, SLAYER:
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you found your people, or are you still searching?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s struggling to find their place, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
There comes a time in life when you realize—not every space is meant for you. Not every conversation needs your input. And not every audience is ready—or even willing—to hear what you have to say.
For years, I believed I had to be everywhere, say everything, and make sure I was heard. Even if it meant squeezing into spaces that didn’t feel right. I thought that was how you made an impact. Be louder. Be present. Be seen.
But experience has taught me something far more powerful:
True empowerment comes from going where your voice is needed, not where it’s merely tolerated.
It’s a shift from trying to fit in to standing tall where you belong.
We’re bombarded with messages telling us to “show up everywhere.” Post more. Be visible. Stay relevant. Hustle harder.
But visibility does not equal value.
When you stretch yourself thin trying to be in all the rooms, you lose something essential—clarity. The more you chase attention, the more disconnected you become from your true message.
Impact isn’t about volume. It’s about resonance.
The power of your voice isn’t in how many people hear it, but in who hears it and how deeply it connects.
Quality over quantity. Alignment over attention.
Your voice deserves to be heard in spaces where it is valued—where it can make a real difference.
Not every invitation is an opportunity.
Some spaces want what you represent, not who you are. You might be included to check a box, but your actual voice? It’s sidelined.
That’s not your room.
Ask yourself:
If the answers are no, it’s not your place to pour your energy into.
You deserve spaces where your contribution matters.
It’s human nature to stick with the familiar. But sometimes, the places we’ve outgrown are holding us back.
Finding where your voice is needed often means stepping outside your comfort zone.
Try new communities. Enter unfamiliar conversations. Build fresh connections.
You might be surprised how much common ground you discover when you truly see and hear others. Different backgrounds, same dreams. Different paths, shared values.
That’s where genuine community begins—with curiosity, openness, and the courage to explore beyond what feels safe.
As we grow, so do our relationships. Not everyone who started with you is meant to go the distance. And that’s okay.
Invest in connections that:
The right connections won’t just tolerate your voice. They’ll make space for it. They’ll value it. They’ll help you carry it further.
One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is knowing when to walk away.
Leaving a space that doesn’t align with you isn’t failure. It’s wisdom.
When you walk away from what no longer serves you, you create space for what does. For the right people. For meaningful conversations. For opportunities that honor your voice.
Walking away is a declaration of self-worth. You’re not here to prove yourself in rooms that don’t value you. The right spaces will invite you in, not because they have to, but because they want to hear what you have to say.
When you focus your energy where it’s truly needed, you create a ripple effect.
You may not always see the immediate impact, but:
Impact isn’t always loud.
It’s the quiet strength of showing up authentically, in the right spaces, at the right time. That’s where real change begins.
Even as I stepped away to focus on other parts of my life, the State of Slay™ blogs never truly went silent. More people have been reaching out, telling me they’ve been revisiting old posts, finding guidance, connection, and reminders that they’re not alone.
And as you may have noticed, I’ve quietly been writing and uploading new posts over the last few weeks—preparing for this very moment.
So today, on the 8th anniversary of the launch of State of Slay™, I want to say it loud and clear: I’m back.
This next chapter will bring new energy, fresh stories, and the same commitment to real, vulnerable dialogue that started it all. If you’ve been wondering when the blogs would return, this is your answer.
I’m here. My voice is here. State of Slay™ is here.
You don’t need to force yourself into spaces that don’t align with you.
Instead:
When you go where your voice is needed, you don’t just create change—you create connection, fulfillment, and purpose.
That’s where the real magic happens.
I’d love to hear from you.
Where is your voice needed right now?
Share your thoughts in the comments. Let’s support each other in finding those spaces.
And if you know someone who needs this reminder—send it their way.
We rise when we lift each other up.
It’s easy to carry the weight of old stories, the ones that say you can’t, or you’re not enough.
But today, release those stories.
Clear the space for your truth, for the voice that’s been waiting to be heard.
When you let go of what no longer serves you, you make room for what’s real, what’s possible.
This is a reminder to free yourself from the chains of yesterday and step into your truth.
Your truth is waiting.
SLAY ON.
It’s tempting to look at someone else’s journey and think their path could be ours.
But the truth is, following someone else’s map won’t lead you to your destination.
Your journey is unique, filled with your own experiences, lessons, and growth.
Trust your steps, even when the road is unclear.
Embrace the detours and the unexpected turns—they’re all part of your personal map.
The path to self-discovery isn’t about following others; it’s about forging your own trail.
So, take a deep breath, trust yourself, and keep moving forward.
Your path is unfolding exactly as it should.
SLAY ON.
We’ve all been there—someone we care about comes to us, overwhelmed by their circumstances. We listen. We offer suggestions. But what they really want is a quick fix, and often, one that lets them off the hook from actually doing the work. Sometimes people just need a break, and it’s kind to help where we can. But more often, the most loving thing we can do is encourage them to help themselves.
Before I began my recovery journey, I constantly looked to others to rescue me from my own messes. I played the victim, and life felt so unmanageable that it was easier to expect someone else to clean it up.
The truth? My thinking was broken. My perception was skewed. I had no healthy tools or coping mechanisms. So when I finally reached out for real help, I was asked one question that changed everything:
“What are you willing to do?”
And for the first time, I said: Anything.
That was the moment things shifted. I had to fall far enough down into despair before I became willing to fight for my life. And fight I did.
Recovery taught me that this new way of living would only work if I worked it. No one could do it for me. I had to believe I was worth the effort—and that belief became the spark that lit my path forward.
With each milestone I earned, my self-esteem and self-worth grew. I began to think about the younger version of myself—the one I’d neglected, the one I’d hurt. I made a commitment to her that I would never abandon her again. That’s who I fight for now. That’s who I protect.
You can’t do the work for someone else. And if you try, you’re actually robbing them of something vital: the opportunity to grow.
Growth comes from struggle. Strength is built through effort. Confidence is earned through consistency. When we do someone else’s heavy lifting, we deny them the chance to build the muscle they’ll need to stand on their own.
Of course, we can offer support. We can stand beside someone and remind them they’re not alone. But we must let them take the lead. Not only is it healthier for them—it’s healthier for us, too.
Practicing this kind of boundary is a form of self-respect. It’s a reminder that we’re not responsible for fixing everyone’s life. That people-pleasing, over-functioning, and rescuing don’t lead to healing—they often lead to resentment.
You can love someone deeply and still let them do their own work. In fact, that might be the greatest form of love there is.
SLAY on.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one way you’ve learned to step back and let someone else do their own work—and how did that shift your relationship with them or yourself?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s always trying to rescue others, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that loving someone doesn’t mean fixing them.
We are what we allow.
And when we allow people to treat us as if we’re not worthy—when we accept behavior that belittles us or dims our light—we start to believe we deserve it.
But our worth isn’t something other people get to define. It doesn’t come from approval, status, or success. It comes from within. From who we are, what we value, and how we show up in the world. True worth is self-sourced. And once we see it clearly, it becomes much harder to stay around people who don’t.
When I was living in the dark, I didn’t believe I had any worth.
I made choices that reflected that belief. I tolerated disrespect. I spoke to myself with cruelty. I stayed in environments that diminished me. I confused success with self-worth and chased external validation to feel like I mattered. And when I didn’t get it, the old narrative played on a loop: You’re not good enough.
I lived like someone who had no value—because I didn’t believe I did.
It wasn’t until I stepped onto the path of recovery that I started to challenge that story. At first, I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I couldn’t say, “I love you” to myself. The words got stuck in my throat.
But slowly, with support from others who had been there, I started to find glimmers of self-worth. I made a list of what I liked about myself. On days when that felt impossible, I wrote down the opposite of the harsh thoughts I was thinking—and used that as my starting point.
I did the work. I stayed the course. And slowly, something shifted.
Acts of kindness, both given and received, started to restore me. I gave back where I could. I surrounded myself with people who saw me clearly. I honored the little girl inside me who had never felt safe, and promised her I wouldn’t abandon her again.
With each step, my self-worth grew.
And as it did, my tolerance shrank.
I no longer accepted treatment that chipped away at my light. I no longer stayed in rooms where I felt unseen. I started seeking out people who inspired me, who respected themselves, and who respected me too. Because once you see your own worth, you can’t unsee it—and you won’t settle for less.
You don’t have to earn your worth. You don’t have to prove it. You just have to see it—and then live like it matters.
Surround yourself with people who reflect that truth back to you. And when you feel yourself dimming to fit into a space that doesn’t honor you, step back and ask: Is this what I deserve? Or am I shrinking to make someone else comfortable?
You have value just as you are. The right people will recognize it. But most importantly: you will.
SLAY on.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one way you’ve reclaimed your worth—and how did it change what (or who) you allowed in your life?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s forgotten how worthy they are, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder to rise.
It wasn’t a dramatic moment. There were no grand speeches or earth-shattering revelations. Just a quiet, honest story from someone who had been through it, too. A simple retelling of a journey—his lowest lows and the moment he decided to ask for help.
That story gave me the courage to reach out. It was the first spark of hope that told me maybe I didn’t have to stay where I was. Maybe change was possible. Maybe I could begin again.
That is the power of carrying a message of hope. And it’s why I do what I do now.
Hope doesn’t always come with fanfare. Often, it shows up in the form of a shared experience. In someone else’s voice. In a message that says, “You are not alone. I’ve been there, too.”
Especially in challenging times—when life feels uncertain or heavy—those stories matter more than ever. We may feel isolated, ashamed, or like our pain is too much of a burden to place on anyone else. But when someone dares to tell their truth, they give permission for others to speak theirs.
And sometimes, that’s all it takes to change a life.
We weren’t meant to do this alone. I know I couldn’t have walked this path without the people who were willing to share their light when mine had gone dim. Whether it was a friend, a professional, or someone who simply saw me and cared enough to reach out—each one helped carry me forward. Now I do the same.
We often think our story isn’t worth sharing. That it’s too messy, too painful, or not inspirational enough. But that’s not true.
Your story—exactly as it is—might be the one someone else needs to hear. It might be the bridge that helps them cross from fear to courage, from shame to honesty, from isolation to connection. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to be real.
Kindness counts. Connection heals. And hope spreads when we pass it on.
During difficult seasons, I’ve learned to slow down, keep things simple, and focus on the people, practices, and projects that bring me joy. That is what fuels me.
Hope isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s a quiet hello. A knowing glance. A kind message. A reminder that someone cares.
Today, offer your story. Offer your presence. Offer your hope. You never know who needs it—including you.
SLAY on.
I’d love to hear from you.
Who carried a message of hope to you—and how are you carrying it forward?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who could use a little light, send this to them.
Sometimes, hope is hiding in someone else’s words.
