Inspiraelevation

You Don’t Have to Be Flawless to Be Worth Following

October 18th, 2026

Yesterday, I had a moment when I wanted to run. Not because I didn’t care, not because I hadn’t prepared, but because sometimes, even when you know what you’re doing, anxiety has a way of making you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. My thoughts raced, my heart beat a little too fast, and suddenly, the very thing I had prepared myself to do felt bigger than me.

I froze. I choked. For a moment, walking away seemed easier than pushing through. But I didn’t walk away. And today, I am awfully proud of that.

Talking to groups has never been particularly difficult for me. I have performed on stage, participated in talent shows, sung in choirs, taught lessons, and delivered briefings. But being comfortable in front of an audience doesn’t mean I am free from anxiety. Stepping into my new role as a leadership coach has taught me that a little self-talk is necessary. I never quite feel prepared enough.

For the first few weeks, I wasn’t flying solo. Having a co-facilitator beside me helped. This time, I was on my own. I had prepared, encouraged myself, and reminded myself, You can do this.

Lights, camera, action. Then everything went sideways.

My screen wouldn’t share. The spirit of a bottle of ginger ale I had accidentally tipped over onto my computer seemed determined to wreak havoc. Suddenly, I was struggling to keep the session on course.

Thankfully, I wasn’t alone. My colleague stepped in to help until I could regain my footing and take the lead again.

Finding My Footing

As the technical difficulties mounted and my colleague stepped in, I briefly considered letting go. Maybe I wasn’t capable of steering this ship after all?

Despite my past successes, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I must have looked to the eight students depending on me to lead them and deliver what they had come to learn.

Then my colleague asked if I was comfortable taking over again. I said yes.

I can do this.

And I did.

I pushed forward, refusing to let a moment of vulnerability cost me an opportunity to lead. I accepted help, gathered myself, and kept going.

I didn’t fully recognize it at the time, but that setback was becoming a test that would ultimately become my testament. I was no longer simply speaking about persistence, perseverance, and the willingness to adapt. I was living them.

Those students watched me struggle. They watched me accept help. And they watched me recover.

Perhaps that was a leadership lesson no prepared slide could have delivered quite as effectively. Leadership isn’t always about having the answers or maintaining control. Sometimes, it means continuing through discomfort, recognizing when you need help, and finding the courage to step forward again.

Reflection Is Where Growth Happens

After class, I was still a little distraught over my performance. The perfectionist in me replayed every hiccup and moment of uncertainty. I couldn’t help wondering whether I had done enough.

But reflection lets us look beyond how a difficult moment felt and consider what it actually produced. We need time to breathe, clear our minds, and recognize the growth that may not have been visible while we were experiencing it.

Yesterday, I felt overwhelmed. Today, I recognize that I persevered.

I am proud. I am grateful. And I am reminded that no matter how many times we have done something or how well we have excelled, mistakes happen. Things go topsy-turvy. Even the most prepared among us can find ourselves facing the unexpected.

We may be the leaders, instructors, and coaches, but we must remember that we can also be led, instructed, and coached. There is no shame in accepting a helping hand. There is humility in recognizing that we are still learning, even when we are the ones standing at the front of the room.

Yesterday, I had to practice what I encourage others to embrace. I had to persist, adapt, accept help, and trust that one difficult moment did not define my ability to lead.

I didn’t lead because everything went according to plan. I led because, when it didn’t, I chose to keep going.

Sometimes, the most valuable lesson we offer others is the one they witness us learning ourselves.
I Never Wanted to Be a Doll

September 24th, 2026

I never wanted to be a doll. Not in the way I mean here.

In this process of learning, striving, and struggling to understand the complex nature of human psychology, I am reminded of the phrase, “Some things are not common.” What one person believes to be a common rationale simply does not register with some people. And perhaps that is the most challenging part: learning to make peace with things that appear to lack logic.

Here I am, in my perfectly human experience, having these conversations with myself.

Moving With Purpose

Many of the articles I post stem from real-life occurrences, lessons, adventures, things to live by, and things that I am or have lived through. That requires a certain measure of vulnerability. However, vulnerability does not mean being devoid of respect, nor does it mean failing to be balanced in the relaying of an experience. They say there are always two sides to a story, and I agree. But I am here to authentically tell mine.

I Never Wanted to Be Someone’s Doll

As I was saying, I never wanted to be treated as a doll.

A few years ago, the feature film Barbie was released to much acclaim. Its narrative arc centered around Barbie setting out to solve a mystery, only to discover that the journey was ultimately about something much deeper: understanding her true purpose for existing.

The film’s central song captured that emotional core beautifully. Barbie wanted to fulfill a purpose beyond simply existing for the enjoyment of others. There was a desire to understand that she was more than what she had been created to be for someone else.

I never thought, in all my life, that I would understand what it feels like to be toyed with, to exist only within a specific space in time, only within someone else’s present tense.

It has confounded me to realize how possible it is for human beings to seemingly wipe another person’s existence from their mental framework once that person is no longer physically present.

How is that possible?

I cannot forget a person that easily. Especially someone who has made a significant impact on my life.

Yet I have had the misfortune of discovering what it feels like to only exist when I am needed, when I am seen, or when close proximity is required. Outside of that, the connection drops completely.

I am rendered no more than something sitting on a shelf, waiting to be taken down when the user wants comfort. Something to be dusted off when loneliness becomes deep and unforgiving.

And nothing is more painful.

I am human

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I am not a plastic doll to be admired and only played with. I am not a soulless object that can be dressed up, accessorized, placed on a shelf, and taken down whenever someone needs a listening ear or a place to pour out their problems.

I am not hollow.

I am more.

When the Illusion Falls Away

Sometimes it takes time for the scales to fall from your eyes.

It is easy to buy into a myth when the attention you receive feels real. When someone takes you off the shelf, the interaction can seem genuine. The conversations feel meaningful. The connection feels alive.

But when you are placed back on the shelf, wondering when you will be taken down again, that uncertainty can become consuming and painful.

Some may say, “Well, you have low self-esteem.”

I say it is something different.

It is having expectations of humanity.

It is expecting that people with whom you have shared history, over a long and real stretch of time, will behave within the framework of what we understand human connection to be. It is expecting reciprocity. Consideration. Curiosity. Basic respect.

Illusions are the work of magicians.

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

Perhaps for some people, that really is how they operate. But that has never been how I understand human connection.

A person who understands the basic respect owed to another human being should be able to recognize that what they put into the world is often what they would hope to receive in return.

Life is teaching me that perhaps many people simply do not experience humanity the same way I do.

And maybe that is the part I have struggled most to accept.

No matter how much you try to understand someone else’s thought process, there are moments when you realize you may never truly understand it. Two people can occupy the same relationship, share the same history, and experience the same moments while assigning completely different meanings to them.

Perhaps some differences are not meant to be solved.

Perhaps they are simply meant to be recognized.

I Am Already Real

I am working on asserting my own realness by refusing to allow people I have presumably bonded with to put me on a shelf for safekeeping.

I am no Pinocchio wishing to become real.

I am real.

I have always been real.

That does not require validation.

What is necessary is learning to separate, as much as possible, from people who see you as less and therefore treat you as less.

There comes a point when understanding another person’s behavior becomes less important than understanding what their behavior is doing to you.

That is where the boundary has to be drawn.

Take Inventory

I hope everyone who reads this takes inventory of the way the people in your life deal with you.

Do they only call when they need something?

Do they run to tell you about their day, their adventures, their victories, and everything happening in their world, but rarely stop to ask about yours?

Do you cease to exist once you are no longer within their presence?

Do they only have time for you when they are free, lonely, hurting, or in need of something you provide?

Take note

You may be someone else’s doll on a shelf. A toy that exists only for their comfort, their convenience, their play, and their whims.

Don’t accept that.

You are not plastic.

You are flesh and bone.

You are specially made.

You are human.

You have thoughts, feelings, dreams, memories, experiences, and a life that exists whether someone chooses to acknowledge it or not.

You deserve care outside of the moments when it suits someone else’s needs or agenda.

You deserve to be remembered when you are not in the room.

You deserve to be asked how you are doing, not simply contacted when someone needs to unload how they are doing.

And most importantly, you deserve to remember who you are when someone else has forgotten to see you.

Remember what you were made for

You were never created to sit on someone else’s shelf, waiting to be taken down when you become useful again.

You were made to live.
The Question From the Wooden Pew

September 19th, 2026

I watch social media more than I should. That is probably why I picked up a book entitled The Content Diet, although I haven’t started it yet. But this isn’t really about the book. It is about illusion, expectation, and standards.

The List of Things We Deserve

I have noticed something while watching the typical dating shows and social media dating content, particularly shows and formats like Pop the Balloon or Find Love. One of the primary questions people are asked when discussing the relationships they seek is, “What are your standards?” What are your expectations? What do you want?

The question is often followed by a long list of things people believe they deserve. Self-reflection, however, is rarely part of the process.

A Question I Heard Before I Understood It

I can remember sitting in a wooden pew as a little girl, paper church fan in hand, the kind adorned with images of Mahalia Jackson or Martin Luther King Jr. Somewhere in the sanctuary, a kaleidoscope of colors filtered through stained-glass windows. The visiting pastor, or perhaps it was my very own father, would stand before the congregation speaking with fervor as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his sermon punctuated by an occasional dab of the handkerchief he carried.

Then came the call and response.

“Turn to your neighbor and say, ‘If everyone in the world was just like me, what kind of world would this world be?’”

That was a moment of self-reflection, although I suspect few of us actually stopped to reflect on it. We said the words, but saying them and examining ourselves through them are two very different things.

The Standards We Set for Everyone Else

And somehow, that brings me back to the point of this post.

We move through the world carrying a laundry list of expectations for other people. We think we deserve everything we desire. The partner who is over six feet tall, six-figure successful, attractive, emotionally available, supportive, dependable, ultra-fit, and perhaps even perfectly submissive. We want respect. We want loyalty. We want consistency. We want someone who communicates, shows up, listens, understands, and makes us feel valued.

But how often do we stop and ask ourselves:

Do I exhibit the very things I am asking for?

What Am I Bringing to the Table?

If the things returned to me were the same things I consistently put into the world, would I be satisfied with what came back?

Would I be deserving of the relationship I say I want?

We are all deserving of good things. But there is something sobering about demanding from others the qualities we have never demanded of ourselves.

Self-inventory has a way of humbling us.

It might make us more grateful for what we already have. It might help us recognize the people who have shown up for us, the grace we have received, and the ways in which our own imperfections have been met with patience and mercy.

Maybe the Standard Starts With Me

Perhaps the goal isn’t to lower our standards. Perhaps it is to hold ourselves to the same standard we so readily place on everyone else.

Because before I ask, what do I deserve? perhaps I should also ask, What am I giving?

Before I ask, What kind of person do I want? Perhaps I should ask, what kind of person am I?

And before I judge the world for failing to give me what I expect from it, perhaps I should return to that little wooden pew and consider the question again:

If everyone in the world was just like me, what kind of world would this world truly be?
For His Ears and My Heart

August 3rd, 2026

There are always things happening in my life, some good and some not so great. That’s just how it goes. In life, you must take the sunshine with the rain. I am soon to embark on something new, something I would be lying about if I said it didn’t stir up some fear in me, enough to make me question accepting it at all. I have lost count of how many times I have whispered to myself, Maybe you should back out; maybe this isn’t for you.

The Words We Need to Hear

A month ago I told my mom about the new venture ahead of me. These days I have very few people to talk to about the events of my life, special or otherwise, which made that conversation mean even more. She wasted no time telling me I was more than prepared, that this new adventure was suited for me and would likely result in growth. Even so, her confidence didn’t completely annihilate the fears that still existed.

The days are drawing down, and I will have to forge ahead, giving it everything I’ve got. As a person who carries a lot of anxiety, that is not easy, but every single day I remind myself that I can do it. Ironically, a few days ago my son came to me about a possible promotion and everything that would come with it. One of the associated tasks scared him. He said,

“Mom, I don’t think I am ready for that. I don’t know how to be in such circumstances.”

He went on to say he just didn’t feel comfortable.

Stepping Out to Grow

I thought about what is happening in my own life right now, and I knew that whatever came out of my mouth would be as much for me as it was for him. I told him sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone to get to the next step. You have to walk through the discomfort to grow. I knew those words weren’t exactly something I would say to myself, but there are things I know are spiritually linked, and in that moment I was simply a mouthpiece, whether to encourage him or to encourage me. It was not planned. Those words came at exactly the right time, and I could recognize that it was likely because I needed to hear them too.

Courage Is Not the Absence of Fear

I have learned so much in this life, and one of the truest things is this. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is the ability to move despite it, to conquer it, to walk forward knowing that what’s ahead matters so much more than succumbing to fear and anxiety.

Many wiser souls have spoken to this truth time and time again. Roy T. Bennett once said,

“It’s only after you’ve stepped outside your comfort zone that you begin to change, grow, and transform.”

Albert Einstein put forth the idea that

“A ship is always safe at the shore, but that is not what it is built for.”

And a bit of wisdom attributed to Farrah Gray reads,

“Comfort is the enemy of achievement.”

Living My Purpose

Because I understand my purpose, sharing this is as much in service to that calling as it is a genuine desire to help others through my own lived experiences. Fear has a way of making us feel alone, as if we are the only ones standing at the edge of something new, trembling. But we are not alone.

Every person who has ever grown has stood in that same spot, hearts pounding, and taken the step anyway. I am taking mine, and if you are standing at your own edge, I hope you take yours too. I am rewarded every time I know my words touched someone, whether it be one person or many, because that is the whole point. We walk through the rain so we can show others the way to the sunshine.
Debugging the Human Downgrade

July 31st, 2026

I have often contributed to the AI conversation, not so much as a protest but to invite reflection on the tenor these arguments have taken and the oversaturation of a single perspective.

While this piece concerns technological evolution, it is not specifically about AI in the sense of what has more widely taken shape. I am referring to humanoids and assistant bots in both homes and organizations and what their arrival means for us. That question requires greater attention than the arguments currently being had about assistive technology for development, organization, structuring, analysis, research, data collation, and tool generation that increase efficiency.

When the Manual Becomes a Warning Sign

This came to mind while reading a well-written book on elevating human potential in the wake of an ever-evolving, technology-oriented society. While the book offers the tools necessary to develop and strategically prepare, it also presents some frightening developments. One that caught my eye was the idea that humanoids or assistive robots, advanced intelligence bots, will eventually replace work such as lifting, movement, and the more physically laborious components of society. In fact, they are already being put to use and acquired by those with the means to do so.

This raised an alarm for me, not because of how it will alleviate workloads that require only remedial, repetitive, and banal tasks, but because of the cost that comes with it. It is a cost that is not being considered as carefully as it should be.

Outsourced Cognition

That cost is already visible if we look closely. Humanity has grown weaker despite the accessibility of vast amounts of information, which too often serves only to produce the regurgitation of that information. Artificial developments of all kinds have dulled human sensibilities, processing, evaluative skills, and critical thinking. Technological advancement has contributed greatly to both physical and mental regression. When something else processes, evaluates, moves, operates, or performs, the human loses the ability to do those things, because improving any of these functions depends on repetition.

Our brains are wired for retention through the building of synaptic connections, which comes about by continuously learning and applying the concepts we undertake. If there is any wonder why people cannot compute basic math expressions without a calculator, this is the cause. If there is any wonder why people have lost the ability to speak coherently, write well, or comprehend deeply, it is due to the failure to practice the skills that improve these functions. If you do not use it, you lose it.

Atrophy by Automation

What begins in the mind does not stay there. The world has already seen the dumbing down of society, and looking forward, when more physical labor is removed, the body will begin to deteriorate. Muscles not used atrophy, bones weaken, and illnesses related to a more sedentary lifestyle become more prominent. When the entirety of the human being regresses, that weakness will cause incapacitation, and humanity will be at the mercy of whatever does the work.

Staying in the Loop

It has been said that 10,000 hours of practice leads to proficiency. It is what turns skills into second nature, and it is what will be needed to continue functioning in an environment where AI gains in intelligence. That is the conundrum. To relent and relinquish those abilities, choosing to rely purely on these devices without any human integration, is an ominous harbinger.

The Human Firmware

The idea is not to throw out innovation. It is, as the author of HUMA puts forth, to learn how to continue growing the skills that require a humanistic approach. We must increase the human capacity for growing the intellect without abandoning physical conditioning at the expense of ease. We do not need to fight the machine. We need to stay highly cognizant of the strength of the human mind and body and continue to build and use both.