Three years ago, on a trip to NYC, I walked into Laura Belgray’s Greenwich Village apartment to find killer art, organized shelves, a beautiful tray of appetizers, and her husband whipping up drinks for me and the other guests.

Do you know what I didn’t see?

Toys littered across the floor, cubbies in primary colors storing battery-operated torture devices, or bedrooms left ready for visiting kids away at college to sleep in.

Given her decision not to have kids, the white furniture and breakable objects sat fingerprint and stain-free.

But before you go wondering what’s wrong with her uterus, here’s a fun fact: she didn’t have kids on purpose–a decision she details with her signature wit and raw storytelling in her recently released book, Tough Titties.

In the collection of personal essays, Laura writes,

“Should I, or shouldn’t I? Rather than a fertility journey, I went through a decision journey. No hormone injections, no husband whacking off in a sterile room…no devastating calls from a physician about unviable embryos. Just years of uncomfortable fence sitting.”

Like Laura, I grew up thinking I’d have kids. A younger version of me once thought I wanted to be exactly like my aunt, who has four kids, all born within two years of each other.

Now, that sounds like my worst nightmare.

Turns out mothering an entire dorm hall of college boys away from their progenitors for the first time was enough for me. “Mom” helped these boys learn to do basic things like laundry and encouraged them to eat more than hot pockets and Jimmy Johns.

At 32, I’ve never experienced the phenomenon known as baby fever, where you seemingly start to see, smell, and desire all things baby everywhere.

Most of my friends have.

When I tell people I don’t have the ticking clock, I’m usually met with a response of “Just wait. You will.” as if there’s something wrong with me for not having the urge to share my body with a tiny human for nine months and my home for 250 more.

As Laura writes, “No one ever said ‘if you have kids.’ They said, ‘When.’ It wasn’t framed as a choice but an ordained ‘someday.’”

When I was 27, riddled with pain from endometriosis and considering all my options to address the stabbing sensations I felt in my uterus monthly, no doctor–even the female ones–trusted that I didn’t want kids. I was always “too young” to know for sure.

This begs the question, at what point do we become old enough to know for sure?

Is it only when our eggs are no longer in prime time? Are we to be trusted, then?

I’m married to a man who is total dad material. I know this because he has fantastic relationships with all three of his grown sons.

Shockingly, it was easier to convince my now-husband, who loves his children but doesn’t want more, that I didn’t want kids, than to convince any of my female friends.

It’s high stakes for a man–who’s certain he doesn’t want kid–to marry a woman still in her “prime birthing years” who says she doesn’t want to make babies.

Yet, he trusted me. So why don’t my female friends?

I’ve come to learn one thing that gets in the way of acceptance is that they fear I’ll never experience the love that comes from being a mother. Or that without some connection to my mothering essence, I’ll never achieve wholeness as a woman.

It’s why I learned to adopt terms like “Plant Mom” or “Dog Mom.”

Or, so I’m not instantly labeled as the unsafe woman who has no idea what she’s doing in a group of new moms, I learned to keep on hand phrases like,

“I can’t want to be an aunt.”,

“I love kids; I just want to be a role model to other people’s kids instead of having my own.”,

“Professional aunt, no kids.”.

All of which are true, but why are they even necessary?

I like kids, but that doesn’t mean I want them.

And as Laura writes, “No one has to defend their decision to have kids, only not to.”

The message around a baby surprise is usually, “Little Johnny is the blessing we didn’t know we needed,” which may have an ounce of truth but really functions as an essential rationalization for all the sleepless nights.

The general sentiment is that kids will improve your life. I’m not convinced that’s the case because even less talked about than women not wanting to have kids are the women who regret having kids.

Admittedly, knowing if I’m making the “right” decision is not always easy. Very few women I’ve come across in my life have intentionally made the choice never to have kids.

We rarely see stories celebrating childless women boldly going after other dreams.

To see Laura coming out owning the decision to be “happily child free” is immensely freeing.

Her writing lends perspective from someone who has been there to the question that has always been the hardest for me to answer, “What if you’re missing out? What if you regret it?”

In her popular piece for Elle following the release of her book, Laura shares,

“While the party line is that “you don’t know true love until you have a child,” I’m deeply content with all the love I have in my life, which feels true enough for me. I love my family, my friends, my husband, our life together. And oh, how I love my free time fiercely and unconditionally. You might even say as a mother would. But please don’t.”

Life is about choice.

When we forget we have a choice, we fall into prescribed paths, walking the thickened grooves so many have walked before us, never stopping to question why. And then we wonder why we’re not happy later on.

Stopping to question, “Do I really want kids?” has been one of the greatest gifts I could have ever given myself.

Birthing a child is an experience.

I’ve got plenty of other experiences to collect–ones that involve carry-on travel without waiting for strollers and five bags, king-sized bed hotel rooms, no alarm clocks to get the kids ready for school, and conversations with my husband about things other than the activities scheduled for the week.

I feel okay missing the baby train.

Pre-P.S. You’re reading day four of my 32 days of insights, inspiration, and instigation. (Very informal title). Get the full scoop here . ✨

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Insight

“What’s…” I quickly stopped my thumbs from typing the rest of the sentence.

I was about to ask, “What’s up?” before remembering I’m an adult with a much larger vocabulary.

Not to mention, if something were up, she’d have texted me in detail (with plenty of emojis included). 

It’s easy to default to social scripts like “How are you?” and “What’s up?” when we’re seeking connection instead of going deeper from the get go.

Social scripts are expected phrases we’ve become wired to use without consciously thinking about them. 

But they rarely lead to the depth of connection we want.

“How are you?”

“What’s up?”

“What’s going on?”

“How’s your day/week/month?”

These phrases are more boring than watching a game of golf.

Our answers are just as dull as the question.

“I’m fine.”

“Nothing much.”

“It’s going well.”

“Good. How are you?”

Greeattttt, I’m so glad we understand each other now.

When we swim in a sea of niceties and surface-level conversations, we don’t communicate much more than, “I’m a human who knows how I’m ‘supposed to’ operate in this social situation right now. Want to give me a gold star?” 

And at that point, why bother saying them at all? 

The good news is we always have a choice to be more aware of how we’re communicating. 

When we go with the default mode, we become lazier communicators. 

Instead, we can design our conversations. 

When we do, we go from dull conversationalist to curious connector, creating more space for authentic connection.

Inspiration

Connection is rooted in curiosity. How can you embody curiosity this week?

Instigation

I’m a massive fan of small pivots because the small things done routinely lead to lasting transformation. Here are ten examples of pivoting from “How are you?” to more curiosity-filled questions.

10 More Interesting Questions Than “How are you?”

1. What’s lighting you up these days?
2. How have you been feeling physically lately?
3. What have you been learning about recently?
4. How are you sleeping? (This one may be my favorite. It can reveal so much in so little time). 
5. How’s your heart?
6. Is there anything you need to be heard on?
7. What song is summing up your week?
8. What are you looking forward to today/right now?
9. How’s your mindset this week?
10. What’s going well for you right now?

Which one is your favorite? Are you willing to whip it out in conversation this week?

Invitation

Today’s invitation is to start a conversation with me. I’m asking you one of these ten questions above and made it super easy to shoot me a video, audio message, or text back. 

 
🔗 Can’t see the video? Click here.

Pre-P.S. You’re reading day three of my 32 days of insights, inspiration, and instigation. (Very informal title). Get the full scoop here. ✨

Insight

For my birthday the other night, Geoff planned a surprise tasting menu experience at a nearby restaurant. 

If you saw my email about cookies, you know that Geoff and I love tasting menu experiences from time to time.

As I sat down at our table, the smooth, light oak reminded me of my childhood bedroom furniture, but the stone floors and exposed brick wall brought everything together to give off a sophisticated loft vibe. 

Our meal started with the restaurant’s take on a Negroni, and then the plates began coming. 18 of them. 😅

Don’t worry; I won’t share the somewhat pretentious descriptions of all 18. Instead, I’ll tell you about one. 

The restaurant called it “Of the Sea.” I call it “Tiny Mushroom Tongues (of the Sea).” 

Any guesses what we were tasting?

I don’t remember the exact description given to us due to my (currently) elementary Spanish, but it was something like “Sea Urchins in a smoky tomato sauce.”

To be clear, I’m a food lover. I’m even an adventurous food lover. 

While I’m adamantly against the movement to put more bugs on our plates, I happily sampled the crickets served on my plate in Mexico last year and didn’t completely hate them. 

And my one qualifier for picking an excellent restaurant is a menu with things I wouldn’t make at home (which is a hard list to top with how much I love cooking). 

So even though the shape and texture of the sea urchins made me instantly think of tongues, I kept an open mind and picked up my fork. 

After my first bite, I set down my fork and only picked it back up when the next plate came. 

“No. Noooo. Nope. Feel free to have mine.” I said to Geoff, who was happily picking up the last forkful on his plate and chuckling at my reaction. 

Needless to say, sea urchins are forever synonymous with tiny tongues, and I feel no need to try them again. 

However, the thing I adore about tasting menus is that they help me expand my comfort zone.

When ordering off a menu, we tend to choose what’s comfortable or what we’re sure to like. 

With a tasting menu, that option is stripped away, leaving you at the chef’s mercy.

It’s a reminder that there’s life outside our comfort zones. 

And while sometimes we might end up choking down a horrifying bite of food, sometimes we also get a taste of heaven. 

Like the stracciatella ice cream in red wine sauce sprinkled with shredded goat cheese that concluded the night. ✨

Inspiration

I said this in a recent email, but it’s relevant again when we’re talking about how to expand your comfort zone, and bears repeating.

​Comfort zones have a way of becoming cages.

Fortunately, these are cages of our own making, so we hold the keys. 

Instigation

How can you expand a little outside your comfort zone this week?

And before you’re tempted to take life too seriously, remember it can be playful—like a tasting menu, going to karaoke, making something new at home, or sharing a photo you love but have been embarrassed to post. 

Invitation

Today’s invitation is simple. Leave a comment and tell me how you’re committed to expanding your comfort zone this week.

I’ll check back with you to see how it goes. 

Knowing someone else is aware of our commitment is sometimes the push we need to stick to it. I’ll be that for you this week.

With so much love, 

Alyssa, xx

P.S. If you’re like, “But wait, Alyssa!” I wanted to see the descriptions of the 18 courses. I got you (and I would want the same). Here’s a snapshot of our menu for the night. 

P.P.S. The sun did come out yesterday, so operation natural wedding tan is officially underway.

P.P.P.S. Are you on Twitter? Sometimes I enjoy tweeting fun one-liners over there.

The laughter from the restaurant patrons wafted through my window at midnight last night, reminding me I’m not in Denver anymore.

We’ve officially made it to Spain. Which means I’ve moved at least 10 times in the past 10 years. (I counted while on the plane).

I’ve never been one to want to stay in the same spot for the rest of my life.

We only choose where we live once we’re on our own, and I didn’t want to stay in Arizona.

Many of my friends and family are the exact opposite—they’re thriving in the same place they were born and have made an active choice to stay there the rest of their lives.

But most people don’t make active choices; they go along with what’s been prescribed, staying in the same town they suffered through braces in without ever stopping to consider why.

Most people stay because it’s comfortable, it’s what they know, and it’s convenient.

If we don’t consciously choose to stay and instead go along with the default route because it’s easier, then it’s no wonder we can feel out of alignment in life. 

The Default Mode is Powerful

App developers and product marketers know the immense power of default settings. If they want users to behave in a specific way, they make it the default option. 

When Apple updates iOS software, you can find more new settings than Ben and Jerry’s flavors lurking behind the gear icon. 

The last time I updated my phone, it took forever to charge. That’s when I learned Apple had switched on an “eco-friendly” charging mode during the update. 🙄

Other people are happy to determine your path if you don’t take the time to look at it for yourself. 

Sure, change is scary and often stress-inducing. 

I’ve wanted to rip out strands of my auburn locks multiple times a day for the past three months while orchestrating the move, but comfort zones have a way of becoming cages. 

There’s so much more possibility in the world than what we’re trained to see growing up in our planned neighborhoods, next to the planned strip malls (don’t get me started on how many strip malls there are in Arizona), attending scheduled school days, and being encouraged to listen to the stereotypical go to college, get married, have kids, pretend to like your kids when they reach teenage years story that dominates so much of life. 

When is the last time you allowed yourself to consider what you want? 

More importantly, when is the last time you allowed yourself to consider what you want without immediately thinking of 25 reasons why what you want is wildly irresponsible or batshit crazy? 

For the record, evaluating what you want doesn’t mean you have to overhaul your life, though fair warning, it’s a common side effect. 

Sometimes allowing yourself to evaluate what you want offers a welcome reframe of your current life by opening up an appreciation for where you are because it’s been an active choice instead of an unconscious sing-along with the life laid out for you. 

When you transform a should into something active, you reclaim your agency. 

For example, “I should live here because my parents are close.” → “I’m choosing to live here for now because my parents are close.”

Or dropping the shoulds, “I feel like I should live here because my parents are close.” → “Even though it means moving away from my parents and a part of me wants to be close, I know I can find new ways to maintain a connection with them.”

Free yourself from the confines of a one-lane highway—you don’t want to get stuck, unable to pass that big ass truck in front of you filled with all things status quo. 

xx, 
Alyssa

It was like one choice became 10,563 choices overnight.

We had made the big decision—choosing which city in Spain to move to—with a level of clarity neither of us was expecting. But then came the onslaught of tiny details that quickly amounted to implications upward of $150,000.

Like fruit flies in the kitchen, one popped up, and then all of a sudden, 15 more were flying around.

“I guess this is why so many people don’t take the leap and move,” he said to me one afternoon.

“It probably explains why so many people look at us like we’re crazy when we tell them the timeline,” I responded as I grabbed a hazelnut butter cup from the pantry.

When tackling such big life pivots, it helps when clarity is felt deep in your bones.

Fortunately, we still have the clarity.

But I’ve noticed that stress and anxiety creep in when we start chasing certainty.

The certainty that the kitchen cabinets will be installed in time, the certainty that we have a tax plan that works for both our businesses, the certainty we’ll find a moving company that doesn’t specialize in egregious extortion for moving Geoff’s solid wood desk.

When we chase certainty instead of opting to trust in the next dose of clarity, the mind has a way of taking over and introducing all sorts of unhelpful and unproductive thoughts.

What if we’re overpaying? Is this going to be worth it? Are we ever going to experience a date night where we don’t utter the words “logistics,” “moving,” or “LCL container” ever again?

If you pulled up “comfort zone” in Merriam-Webster, the example sentence would be, “They were undoubtedly expanding their comfort zones by moving to a new country.”

And while I love bucking the status quo and stepping into a new adventure, my mind loves control, safety, and sending 90,000 thoughts per minute through my mind to make sure I don’t forget that unpredictability and possibly a giant tiger lie ahead.

This is when my years of degrees, certifications, and a general obsession with human behavior become helpful.

It’s when I get force-fed a dose of humble pie, and the Universe reminds me that I must practice what I preach.

As a firm believer in being my own best client, I’ve whipped out some of my most useful tools recently.

One of the most sanity-saving tools I’m revisiting right now is something I like to call Observation Station.

It’s the practice of pretending you’re zooming 10,000 feet above the situation and looking down so you can see the situation and your reactions playing out like a movie.

If you dive into the spiritual world, you might recognize the practice as witnessing. If you’re a self-help skeptic, you can think of it as getting a bird’s eye view of the situation.

It helps because how you experience a situation is never going to be exactly the same as how someone else experiences the situation. We’re never really experiencing reality 100% objectively.

As a result, it’s easy to get caught up in the stories we tell ourselves. Stories that are informed by past experiences, ways we learned to cope, and what our great-grandma told us about life on her deathbed.

But just like there are 74,233 ways I could have written this article, there are an infinite number of ways we can tell a story to ourselves.

Hence why Observation Station is such an important and powerful tool.

Here’s the scoop on Observation Station:

Imagine the observation deck at The Grand Canyon—a monstrous glass floor pitting you out over the canyon below so you can see everything without actually having to gear up for a hike or smell a donkey for hours on end. From high above the canyon, standing on the glass deck, you’re able to see what’s happening below clearly.

The same happens when we can visualize heading to the observation deck in our minds.

You can do this by closing your eyes and imagining yourself floating up and up and up until you’ve landed on an observation deck high in the sky, and you can see yourself, your reactions, and the situation playing out down below you.

(If you’re having a hard time doing that, sometimes I imagine strapping on a pair of black patent leather stilettos that shoot rockets out the heels and have the power to propel me up to the observation deck). 🚀👠

From there, as you allow yourself to just watch the situation you’re contemplating unfold below you, you begin to feel the intensity of emotion melt away, the racing voices muffle and you can look down to really explore and discover what’s creating the confusion.

When you’re ready, you can float back down into the present moment and open your eyes.

When we zoom out, we gain a new perspective. Often, that’s enough to help us restore our inner peace—which is more sacred than front-row tickets to a show on Taylor Swift’s Eras tour.

When situations feel cloudy, miscommunication abounds, and our minds have a tendency to take over as we try to navigate the turbulence. However, there are myriad ways to get back to clear skies—Observation Station is one of them.

It’s been helping me shift the desire for certainty and embrace the uncertainty that comes with a huge life pivot.

As I’ve floated up and down from my own observation deck dozens of times this week, I’ve been reminded clarity is experienced in my head and heart, whereas certainty is just an idealistic dream of my mind (like my dream of every restaurant serving gluten free desserts that aren’t also vegan).

When I go to the Observation Station, I see how eager I am to get to Spain and how until I’m actually there, I’m fearful that something will go wrong. With that awarness, I’ve been able to adjust the conversations I’m having with myself all day long reminding myself that even if more obstacles pop up, I have the resources to navigate them.

You have more control than you realize over your inner weather patterns.

With so much love,

xx
Alyssa

P.S. If you’d like me to guide you through this practice so you can experience its power to restore clarity for yourself, I opened a few spots on my calendar. Snag a spot for yourself (it’s 100% free).

I flew to Chicago Wednesday morning to meet the floral team we chose for our wedding.

Our florist, Nichole, who I’m convinced turns a single stemmed rose into a wand and then proceeds to make magic out of green foam blocks and a bunch of flowers, had put together a floral sample of the displays we’ve been dreaming up for the wedding.

When we were wrapping up at the venue, Nichole casually asked if I wanted to take one of the arrangements home.

My brain froze for a second. “How would I fly with it?” I asked her.

It wasn’t immediately apparent to me that I could fly with it in my lap.

(TSA once took away a peanut butter snack I was traveling with, so I’m never sure what liquid level they’ll be persnickety about. Would they care that the core block holding the arrangement was soaked in water?)

Not to mention, the arrangement was the size of an overfed cat.

Not wanting to let something so beautiful go to waste, I decided to risk it.

At the airport, snaking my way through a sea of backpacks, I caught the eyes of passersby, followed by whispers of, “Did you see those flowers?” or “Wow, those are pretty!”

By the time I had made my way to the gate, my arms had gotten quite the toning workout, and I had learned three things:

1. Flowers can be deceptively heavy.
2. People really love flowers.
3. Carrying flowers through the airport is a great pattern interrupt.
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Rather than walking with their heads down, avoiding eye contact at all costs, people looked up. 

I saw substantially more smiles than I ever have walking through an airport.

Curiosity has a way of sparking connection in a way judgment isn’t capable of.

It gave them something to look at—something rare to be curious about.

Seeing flowers in the grocery store? No big deal. But how often do you see a 5’8” woman (6’ in the taupe boots I was wearing) carrying a gigantic floral arrangement through the airport?

I’m going to go with almost never.

It interrupted the predictable pattern of going through security, fighting the crowd to get to the gate, and the monotonous sitting while waiting for boarding.

The flowers were just as unexpected as the number of smiles I saw because of them.

I like to call moments like this Pattern Interrupts.

If you’re stuck in a rut, interrupting your normal routine is one of the most powerful things you can do. 

It’s so easy to feel stuck, flowing with the status quo instead of defining what we want and acting on our desires.

But possibility is sparked when something makes us look up and see things in a new way (like potentially meeting your future spouse).

So many things in life are prescribed to us. It’s a radical act to reclaim our agency and make active choices about what we want and what’s good for us.

But we have to be willing to interrupt our patterns and permanently delete the phrase “because we’ve always done it that way,” from our brains. 

While random pattern interrupts, like seeing floral bouquets in the airport, can sometimes show up unprompted, we can’t always expect them to show up in our lives at just the right time.

Fortunately, we can intentionally play with pattern interrupts on our own.

• We can walk (or drive) a new way to the grocery store. 
• We can listen to a different music genre all day. 
• We can wear a bright color instead of our normal black. 
• We can prepare a fun question before heading out to drinks with the same group of friends.
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By carrying flowers through the airport this week, I got to experience moments of micro-connection with strangers that would never have happened if I was just walking to the gate empty-handed as I normally do. 

And the flowers served as a pattern interrupt for the people I passed who weren’t expecting to see something beautiful amidst the sea of boring gray airport decor.

What pattern interrupt can you intentionally place in your life this week? What’s something unexpected that has interrupted your normal flow recently? What did you notice?

If you want to share, I love hearing from you. Drop a comment below.

xx, 
Alyssa

You are not Spanx. 

This may seem obvious, but nonetheless, countless people walk around acting as if they are.

Spanx are meant to keep it all in. They’re a magical smoother of the situation that is the cellulite on most women’s thighs. 

Spanx are great when you want to wear a bodycon dress but feel more bloated than a pufferfish.

They suppress what you don’t want people to see—smoothing everything out until all you see is a perfect curve, no extra lumps in sight. 

This works for about three hours. 

At this point, things start to get uncomfortable. 

You suddenly start to feel trapped and can’t stop thinking about being stuck in a small place you can’t escape. 

You want to be free. 

So much so the first thing you do when you get home is run straight to the bedroom so you can tear them off. 

Romance be damned; your organs are crying out for space. 

Sometimes, we act like Spanx in our conversations.
 

Instead of sharing authentically and letting the truth hang out, we suppress it behind a layer of niceties. Simultaneously, we attempt to remain congruent with ourselves, knowing we aren’t sharing our whole truth. 

Just like Spanx, this works for a short period. 

But not long. 

Because there’s an internal voice that will get louder the more you ignore it. And ignoring it usually leads to massive internal discomfort.

There’s a reason people say, “the truth will set you free.”

Yet we hide our truths to look perfect on the outside. 

• We hide our ambitions from our parents. 
• We hide our needs from our partners. 
• We hide our opinions from friends we’re unsure we can fully trust. (If they’re not the friend you can talk about that relentless stray chin hair with, how can you expect to bear it all regarding your deepest vulnerabilities?)

So we package ourselves into smooth statements and avoid sharing the deeper truth. We trade our authentic self-expression for easy conversations.

But just like it gets difficult to breathe in Spanx after a while, it becomes harder and harder to breathe in our lives. Our sense of self starts to diminish. Our relationships start suffocating. 

And that grows increasingly untenable until we burst—usually destroying things we care about in the first place. 

There’s a different path, though. 

By making things mentionable, we make them manageable. 

The late Fred Rogers said, “Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”

Trusting people with our feelings can feel scary by itself, though. Hence, why so many people go the Spanx route. But if you want to free yourself from stifling interactions, risking taking off the Spanx is essential.

The first step to getting comfortable mentioning things to others is being able to mention them to ourselves. 

If we can’t be honest with ourselves, it’s hard to be honest with others.

When you feel like throwing on Spanx in conversation, consider asking yourself these questions: 

1). What feeling might I be trying to avoid by clamming up right now?

2). What part of me is feeling like hiding right now?

3). Am I feeling this way because of something that happened in the past or because of some evidence directly linked with this person?

4). What is essential for me to share in this conversation to honor myself?

Most of us were taught to suppress pieces of ourselves at one point or another. Part of personal growth is learning to get in touch with our authentic selves, so that our inner worlds and outer worlds can begin to operate in alignment once again.

Leave the Spanx for the party dress. Allow yourself the gift of living authentically–even if there are some imperfect moments.

xx, 
Alyssa

P.S. Sign up for my weekly newsletter, The Peel, for more perspective pivots on expanding conversations.