Big Ass. Big Brain. Big Heart.

Everything is big right now.
My ideas are big.
My ass is big.
My fear is big.
My faith is big, too—but it’s the kind that shakes, not floats.

I’m eating comfort food for most meals.
I don’t want advice about it.
I ate the bag of chips, stashed the rest of the fears I inhale daily, and tossed it in the trashcan nearby—clearing the desk of my intellect and passion with every meal. Ha! That’s funny.
Because that’s what it takes to keep going sometimes, right?

Remember?
That’s what I said I’ve never done.

We’ve had somewhere between 8 and 14 people at our lake house for most of the last two months.
I love a house full of meals and motion.
But good Lordy, mercy me—stillness would be great.

I miss our hot tub time too. Mike and I both need it. During the summer months in Central Texas, it’s just too hot to soak—even at 4am.
The hot tub is drained, and so am I…so that regular and consistent practice is missing right now.
I do recognize that.

Without it, I’ve been taking breaks with Lauridsen. If you don’t know him, he’s a choral composer who writes for the soul.
For dissonance. For breath. For the moment where sound stops being sound and becomes release. Movement, melting, and something I can’t quite name—but I know it when I feel it.

Mike and I leave for a cruise in less than a week.
I should be doing laundry and packing.
But instead, I’m trying to peel away—to unpack some of this so I don’t accidentally bring it with me.
Because let’s be honest, the last thing I need is to show up thinking I’m light and free- only to find my heaviness stashed away in the toiletry bag next to the mascara.
Folded neatly between the flip-flops and sundresses.

I mean… right?

I know the ship must have several hot tubs.
I don’t know the rules yet, but I doubt they’ll let Mike and me skinny dip with our coffee and marvel at the stars. But I sure wish they would.
Maybe the risk is worth it.
That would be epic.
That would be big.

The other day I realized something:
I’ve always compared writing to singing with you here.
That’s not an accident.
There’s a rhythm I’m chasing. A resonance…a heartbeat release that comes from hitting the right line at the right time.

And when I get it right?
I feel it.
And I think you do too.
Which is kind of… stunning, y’all.
Think about it—this connection we just made, through digital connection.
See? I’ve been thinking about this for yearzzzz.
Years.

I’m steeped in it like the hot tea next to me now.
It’s 3:59am, and honestly?
You’re my hot tub this morning.
Welcome.
Sit awhile.

This writing is interesting.
There’s an ebb and flow to the ideas.
An input-output rhythm.
I stewed over the last three pieces for two months, but this one?

It flew out of me like a water volleyball I’ve been trying to hold under the water—pressure building until it found a way to surface.

That’s how I know I needed it.
This isn’t just writing—it’s release.
Me, in here, talking to you about what’s actually going on in my brain.

And think on this:
If the framework I’m building really can scale across sectors, platforms, and digital spaces…
If it was born from trauma and the unbuckled potential of my own mind, body, and soul…
If the person behind it feels as much as I do, tracks the microdata like I do,
and still tries to be present and connect like I do…

No wonder she used to drink three glasses of wine each night?

Ha. Just saying.

I don’t want to drink this morning…
Don’t worry.
There’s always more chips at 7-Eleven.
They’re open 24 hours.

If you made it this far, thanks for sitting with me.
I don’t take that lightly.
These are the kinds of things I usually process in hot tubs or notebooks, but now they’re on the page.

And that’s… big.