validating shit storms

Inspiring you is no longer on my to-do list.

  1. Because I don’t want to.

  2. Because I like you more than that.

  3. Because you can inspire your own self.  

And if I were going to Vegas, I would bet alllll the quarters (while holding a drink in one hand with Laci as my casino guide) that you don’t want to be inspired.

I have spent most of my life, especially in my early 30s, trying to “live a life that inspires”. That is especially toxic for a recovering perfectionist. After the shit storms I went through during those years, I felt (and was told) about the expectations of how my life was now to be a poster child for forgiveness/faith.

In my past attempts to inspire, I now realize it was done with the heart to make something shitty that went down have some worth. But what I’ve gone through has worth and intention regardless of who does or doesn’t get something from my life lived.

The expectation of inspiration placed an immense weight on my shoulders.

It suffocated creativity.

And what little creativity could be squeaked out, felt slightly filtered and forced.

When I come across inspiration these days, sometimes I'll feel the vibes that are similar to the ones I feel when being sold to. Instead of being sold on buying a product/service, I’m being sold to validate the worth of someone’s experience. That their shit storm did have meaning after all. 

We don’t need each other to validate the meaning of our shit storms. We need each other to laugh, cry, and watch "Scandal" with (#TeamOlitz all the way). Deep down, I think we simply want to know that we’re not the only one and that maybe, just maybe we are not forever defined by it. 


"The Vault" is a collection of curated words that overcame my inner critic's desire to delete. When looking at my online writing during the past 10-ish years, sometimes I cringe and sometimes I smile while giving myself all the high fives. Years later I still learn something new when I look at the words I would pound out on dinosaur of a Dell™ desktop at 3am. This act of vulnerability in giving space to words from the past fuels my tenacity to keep going. To never give up on getting my heart and soul out on the page.