For a long time, cigarettes were the only tool I had that would successfully make me take a break. And it wasn't just the physical dependence to the nicotine; it was the ritual of stepping outside, connecting with nature and the understanding of seeking permission to take time for myself throughout the day.

When the pandemic arrived, so did a new phrase: "social distancing." It was meant to describe a logistics problem, but the language did something else entirely. We're still living with what it cost us.

Improv taught me how to listen—not just hear words, but notice tone, hesitation, and what's underneath. It taught me how to stay present when I had no idea what was coming next. Most importantly, it taught me that mistakes aren't failures—they're information.

When an AI business name generator suggested "FecalGlow" for my coaching practice, I couldn't stop laughing. But the experience taught me exactly what I wanted to offer: permission to be imperfect, messy, and still growing.

During my first stand-up set, I had a moment where I watched myself from the outside—noticing my tone, my gestures, my timing—as if I were in the audience. I had completely disconnected. What I learned wasn't about comedy. It was about how often we abandon our own experience to finish the story we think we're supposed to tell.

Self-worth isn't something you arrive at once and keep forever. It's an ongoing practice of noticing—who you are, what you value, and how those things shift over time.