A new era
Following the breadcrumbs - I'm doing what my 16 year old self wanted.
When I was 16, I was on the cover of Volleyball Magazine. To all of you non-volleyball people, it’s probably not going to resonate much. To me, to my little girl, and to the woman I am now, this mattered and matters so much to me. It was a symbol of all of my hard work, pursuing my passion, the blood, sweat and tears from not only me, but my parents, being recognized. It wasn’t about being the best, all the championships won, letters on my jacket or attention. It just felt like the greatest honor to pour everything I had into something I loved, especially when no one was watching, and have people recognize that devotion.
So when my dad showed up with the actual magazine (I haven’t seen it in 15+ years) last week, it felt a bit surreal. I sat down to read the article and I was really moved. Most of it wasn’t about my skills, although people said very nice things about my talent. (I used to jump really high and hit a ball very hard. If I tried that now, I would most definitely pee my pants and need someone to peel me off the floor.) Most of it was about who I was as a person, how I showed up when things were hard, and how I treated others. Gosh, it was like a love letter to my soul reading that thing. And then in one of the quotes from me, I shared that I had just written a 100 page story about a girl who goes to New York, becomes a writer, and mentors your women. And I was stopped dead in my tracks. I read that quote over and over while my body had an unexpected visceral response.
I’ve been a writer my entire life. Book reports were like my drug. I was obsessed with my Creative Writing class, and I somehow got A’s on every book report, even if I didn’t read the book, because I just excelled in my writing. (Stop judging me - you used Spark Notes too.) I wrote a book at 25 about my extremely challenging transition out of volleyball, and I’ve used Instagram captions and journals and notes to my husband to feed my addiction over the last 11 years.
But every time I would think about “being a writer,” there was this very limiting and loud voice in my head that said “who do you think you are? You’re not a writer. You know actual writers. Why would people read what you have to say?” And I let that voice win every time.
I’ve been in this void since having my daughter. It’s been almost two years of a very intense ego death that has caused me to question everything. I sold my media company in April this year, and I have been unraveling ever since. Who am I if I am not running a big team, a company with 30+ clients, hosting a top podcast, and doing things that made me feel important in the world? Who am I if I choose peace over production? What will happen If I let my identity completely unbecome everything I thought it was and make space for whatever wants to come through?
You know - I don’t have all the answers. I would say “yet” but I’m not sure we ever have all the answers. So I’ve decided to just follow the breadcrumbs and let the magic unfold.
When my dad showed up with that magazine the other day, it was not one of those signs from the Universe - it was a slap in the goddamn face from the Universe. Same same but different, ya know? I’ve been dancing around my deep desire to write and birth books on our unbecoming, the soul work, the fertile voids, getting out of our own ways and our remembering. My soul has been whispering and I haven’t been listening. I’ve been scared, if I’m being totally honest. There are several books inside of me right now, and I am the living, breathing embodiment of deep transformational work. But I’ve let myself stay stuck between what my mind and my human say I’m supposed to do and what my soul came here to do.
Last week I shifted into integration of soul and human, bridging the cosmos and the earth, opening my portal to the potential of my soul, rather than the limits of my human. And my god, I felt like I finally landed.
My soul has major work to do here. I know I came here for many reasons, some of which I have yet to fully understand. But I know this to be true for me right now - if I don’t write, part of me is going to continue to feel like it’s dying. My fullest expression in this iteration of my life includes writing in a major way. So I am devoting myself to this space, in ritual, in practice and in presence. The words are pouring out and I am committed to keeping my portal open and clear for my highest timeline to be met.
I’m not totally sure where we are going y’all, but I heard the whisper through my 16 year old self inside a magazine that meant so much to me, and I’m choosing to listen.
Welcome to my Substack. Here we go y’all ;)


You got this, we got this, we're all in this together
Hell yeah, Kelli! I have also been v scared to claim the title of writer for myself. That’s one of the things I created my substack to work on, but it is damn hard. I found this post in my email exactly when I needed to, and now I am fired the fuck up.