As I grew more confident in my handshake, I could not stop putting my hand out when I greeted others. It was a good handshake. It was a welcoming handshake. And it was MY handshake. Years of crafting, reflecting, building, understanding, healing.
Read MoreOn Gratitude…
As I started to type this month’s blog post, I noticed something moving out of the corner of my eye. “Of course,” I quietly whispered, while the right side of my mouth turned up. Of course I would be visited by a ladybug, just a foot away from me and my laptop. This symbolism of good luck, wishes and dreams coming to fruition, worries beginning to dissipate and happiness coming about found me in my office at just the right time. And I welcomed it.
Read MoreI had spent so much of my life wrapped up in my own insecurities that it made it incredibly difficult to grow personally and even professionally. But when I finally accepted my own uniqueness, and worked with it rather than against it, I built my confidence and had the tenacity to move forward in my life.
Read MoreAt half full, we call them Forwards and not retreats since that word can mean to move back, to recoil. When I took over half full, I added Youth Forwards which are specifically for high school students and focus on leadership development and goal setting. The Youth Forwards are based on a retreat I had done when I was 14 years old that had a long lasting impact on my life. It was an eye opener for me and when I trace back as to the “why” I became a facilitator, I keep going back to that weekend.
Read MoreI had the best parents. They were super loving and embraced my uniqueness from the start. They never made me feel different. They made me feel normal. Loved. Beautiful. I hated the moments when I saw the hurt in their eyes when I was teased or uncomfortable – like the time one of my teachers told my whole class that it was my Mom's fault that I only had two fingers on my left hand.
Read MoreAfter college, I took a job working as an assistant in a non-profit office in DC. My main duties involved typing and filing which I executed with my now perfected method of putting my sleeves over my hands. My manager wasn't aware of my hand and was not shy about expressing often that I was way too slow at typing. These voiced slights continued until I finally couldn't take it anymore. I whipped out my left hand from my sleeve ... which proceeded to mortify both of us.
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