Brand Fearless

09/03/2026

I was deeply saddened to learn of Gloria Steinem's passing. As a young woman in college pursuing my minor in Women’s Studies, I learned so much about Gloria, her work, her activism, her courage, and the extraordinary role she played in advancing equality and amplifying women’s voices. Her life and work helped me understand not only how far women had come, but how much courage, persistence, storytelling, and collective action it took to get there.

Perhaps that is why her passing feels especially poignant at this moment in history.

So many women before us fought extraordinarily hard for rights and protections that generations after them might have assumed were secure. Yet we have been reminded that progress is never guaranteed. Hard-won protections can be rolled back, and women continue to face discrimination, violence, exploitation, inequality, and challenges to their autonomy. There is still so much work to be done.

One piece of advice Gloria offered feminists and organizers feels especially meaningful today:

“Telling each other our stories is the single most revolutionary act in every way…change comes from telling the truth and knowing that you’re not alone.” — Gloria Steinem

Thank you, Gloria, for doing exactly that for so many decades. Thank you for telling the truth, telling the stories, challenging what needed to be challenged, opening doors that had been closed for far too long, and reminding generations of women that our experiences, our stories, and our voices matter.

And to the young women coming behind us: keep learning. Keep speaking. Keep asking questions. Keep telling your stories. Keep standing up for one another. And never assume that the rights generations before you fought for will protect themselves.

There is still so much work to be done, and each generation has a responsibility to carry that work forward.

And don’t worry, Gloria, I’ll keep telling my story. I know so many others will, too.

Rest in power, Gloria. Thank you for everything you gave to women and to the world. 💜

Photo: Warren K. Leffler / Library of Congress, 1972

05/23/2026

Lately, as the heat and humidity have rolled in, I’ve been feeling the realities of this imperfectly imperfect body a little more deeply. The truth is, there are days I want to be on the beach with my feet in the sand and salt air filling my lungs. I’m a Cape Cod kid after all. The ocean has always felt like home to me. The sun was always somewhat of a challenge for my body, even long before I understood why, but over the years, that sensitivity has intensified to the point where I can only tolerate short periods before it begins to take a physical toll. The very thing I love most now requires limits, pacing, shade, and careful listening to my body.

There are days I want to be out playing basketball, planting in the garden for hours, walking farther, moving more freely, and simply existing in my body the way I once did. But chronic illness, chronic pain, an ileostomy named Daisy, connective tissue disorders (hEDS), dysautonomia, MCAS, menopause, and all the layers that have unfolded over the years have changed the way I move through the world. Sometimes the more I push, the more my body pushes back.

And yet, I keep showing up.

Not perfectly. Not gracefully every day. But honestly, intentionally, and with gratitude for the body that has carried me through more than I ever imagined it would have to endure. This body may not look the way it once did. It may swell, flush, sublux, exhaust, and protest. It may require more rest, more flexibility, more patience, and more compassion than I ever expected to give myself. But I have learned to speak to her kindly and to thank her for her resilience and all she has survived.

The healing dance continues with all its ups and downs. The ocean still flows imperfectly, and somehow, so do I. To those who now look different than they once did, but whose spirit remains fully intact and vibrant inside, no matter how much it has been pushed to the brink — I see you. We move like the willow, flexible and flowing, bending when we must, but still rooted deeply in who we are.

I still believe in spiraling upward, even if the path looks dramatically different from what it once did. I still believe in possibility. I still believe there is meaning in continuing to create, connect, write, advocate, and share these experiences openly.

Because this was never just about me.

It’s for every person navigating chronic illness, disability, grief, change, pain, or a body that no longer behaves the way the world expects it to. It’s for the people who keep showing up anyway. The people adapting in real time. The people learning to hold both heartbreak and gratitude at once.

And no matter how long this memoir takes — emotionally, physically, creatively, or financially — I will reach the finish line. Perhaps not on other people’s timelines, but on my own. And that is enough.

04/19/2026

This book has been a long process.
After my diagnoses of hEDS, dysautonomia, and the confirmation of MCAS in December 2025—on top of my ileostomy and autoimmune challenges—it finally made sense why the last two years have been such a struggle, on and off. And why I had to put a pin in my writing for a while.

Meeting with the doctor in December brought a level of validation I can’t fully put into words. I always knew something wasn’t right, even going back to when I was young—but now it finally makes sense. Why my body has struggled the way it has and why things have shifted and intensified over time.

That clarity matters for this book. It’s part of the story—and part of why it was important to pause, understand, and come back to it the right way.

Now I’m getting ready to meet with the publisher to discuss next steps—so it’s a lot of reworking, reshaping, and moving things forward again.

Giving myself grace, keeping my health first, and trusting the timing.
And I’m really proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish these last 2 months.

Wu Kitty and Finnegan are enjoying the weekend writing time on a rainy day 🐾

03/09/2026

I am grateful to be part of the Women of Red Rock — a group of thoughtful strategists, creators, and leaders who care deeply about the impact of our work. Every campaign, conversation, and collaboration is rooted in a shared commitment to strengthening communities and advancing the vision of Healthy People, Healthy Planet. I am proud to stand alongside this inspiring team. ❤️🌍

This Women’s History Month, we’re celebrating the women behind Red Rock — the thinkers, builders, and leaders helping move Healthy People, Healthy Planet forward! 🌍

Their work strengthens communities, advances important conversations, and supports organizations committed to lasting impact. Every strategy, campaign, and story is shaped by their dedication to doing work that MATTERS.

The future DOESN'T shape itself. It’s built by people willing to step forward and lead it!

Today and every day, we’re proud to be part of that work — together. ❤️

02/28/2026

Recently, I was diagnosed with hEDS in December by Dr. Aubrey Milunsky in Cambridge — and I feel deeply validated. So many lifelong struggles, alongside dysautonomia, MCAS, autoimmune challenges, and living with an ileostomy, finally connect.

I’m incredibly grateful to Amanda McTaggart — my EDS guru — who first recognized this in me back in 2017. She lives with a profoundly complex EDS diagnosis and faces extraordinary challenges with unwavering resilience. I am truly in awe of her. I hope to be back in Ireland 🇮🇪 sometime soon, my friend.

In 2026, I move forward informed and supported. I’ll be sharing more about this diagnosis and how it connects to the broader picture of my health. Knowledge is powerful. There is strength in being seen. Grateful for the community that helps us connect the dots as we celebrate Rare Disease Day.

02/26/2026

Reminding myself of my own words.
Keep spiraling UP!

11/17/2025

Ken Burns’ new docu-series The American Revolution is on my watch list, and I’m genuinely excited to dive in.

It’s a six-part, deeply human look at the origins of our democracy — not as a clean, polished story, but as a bold, messy idea that people chose to fight for long before they knew how it would turn out.

It’s a reminder that our beginnings were complicated, courageous, and driven by people who were willing to risk everything for something bigger than themselves.

I’m looking forward to watching — and I hope others will join me in exploring this important, timely storytelling.

You can watch it on PBS.