I haven’t written much lately. I’ve been in a bit of a creative stasis, hibernation, or maybe just in an “I don’t really have anything I want to create and share” mood lately.

March is MS Awareness Month

I know someone who lives with MS, Multiple Sclerosis. She is aware that I design and print T-shirts. If you are not aware, March is MS Awareness Month.

She found an image of a shirt online that she liked. It was cute, it was funny and sarcastic — a very “her kind of shirt”.

Despite the wondrous age of the internet we live in, complete with images being linked to everyone’s shops and whatnot for their entrepreneurial side-hustles, she found no option for this particular shirt design that she could actually purchase. So, naturally, she asked me if I could make her one. Of course, agreed to make it for her. Why would I say no? I made my own version of it, design and all.

A Question

The day it arrived, I dropped it off at work. She immediately changed into it to check the fit. I began my shift, and a customer asked me, “Does she have MS? Or does she know someone with MS?”

I was a bit taken aback by the question.
Reasons:
1. Medical Privacy
2. Business Ethics
3. Is it a prerequisite for someone to have a medical condition or know someone who has a medical condition to wear a medical cause awareness t-shirt?

Anyway, after my rapid-fire brain session of “reason/logic/ethics/right to disclose personal information given the situation and location”, I answered her question.
“Yes, she has MS. I made the shirt for her. March is MS awareness month. Can I get you anything else? Do you have rewards with us? …. Thank you, have a nice day!”

Fast forward 1 week.

A Social Question

I wanted to know why someone, a celebrity, chooses to publicly support a particular group of “afflicted persons”. Celebrities naturally support various charitable organizations that are often adjacent to any number of awareness causes.

Re-enter question number 3 from my earlier listed reasons of being taken aback by my customer’s question:
Do celebrities choose to support causes because they have some personal connection/reason to that particular group of people?

It seems to me that celebrities and politicians are the primary groups of people who are socially exempt from having a personal reason to be connected to a charitable group or any associated awareness causes.
But is that the case? Or are they just not vocal publicly about the reasons they gravitate towards that cause?

In general, most people will support causes associated with the welfare of children, animals, and conservation without some underlying personal connection.
But for some reason, when you start to get into the specific causes, society makes this assumption that you must have some personal connection to the cause in order to be involved.

Why do I bring any of this up at all?

There are No Dumb Questions and I’m Annoyed

I think I’m annoyed.
Actually, I know I’m annoyed.

However, I am not annoyed with Awareness Causes.

The purpose of Awareness Causes is to educate the public, raise funds, and advocate for research and/or policy changes regarding a plethora of health, social, and environmental issues.

Typically, I say there are no “dumb questions”.

Yet, if this is the first question we ask when we see someone with an Awareness Cause shirt, “Is your connection to this cause personal?”

I think, maybe that’s a dumb question, even though it’s not.
Reasons:
1. Whether or not it’s personal isn’t really of importance in spreading awareness.
2. Whether or not it’s personal, isn’t really anyone else’s business.
3. By wearing the awareness shirt, the person is automatically making it personal, as in I personally have awareness of this cause and I can provide you with education, information, resources, and where to go for more information/inquiries to support this cause.

But, whatever (exasperated sigh included).
You didn’t want to make assumptions, I like that.
You asked because you’re curious, and in my opinion, curiosity is good.

Though you should be aware, that with these awareness causes, the answer to whether or not it’s personal is something that really isn’t information you need to know. Why is it irrelevant?
Because we live in a judgmental, discriminatory, and damning world. Maybe you’re not that person, but depending on where you are when you ask… someone else nearby might be that judgmental, discriminatory, and damning person.

If they tell you, it’s because they don’t mind sharing that information with you.
Because we live in a judgmental, discriminatory, and damning world. Maybe you’re not that person, but depending on where you are when you ask… someone else nearby might be that judgmental, discriminatory, and damning person.

The Other Shoe Drops

March is also Colorectal Cancer Awareness month.

What do you know about Colorectal Cancer?
What about other types of cancers that present in the colorectal area that are not colorectal cancers?

I know some things — facts, figures, and general aspects of a lot of cancers, actually.
But now I find myself in a situation where I am going to become more educated and more aware than I ever wanted to be about this particular area of awareness.

I’m annoyed because I have one more cause added to my list of causes where I have a personal connection.

I don’t want to be annoyed.

But I am annoyed nonetheless.
Consider it a natural part of the grieving process.

I want to see a world where more people are involved in Awareness Causes without having a personal connection to them.

Because I have always had too many causes where I have a personal connection.

Why am I not telling you what my personal connection is to this cause?
Reasons:
1. The personal connection doesn’t like to have people know about their health.
2. They don’t want to be “part of a cause”.
3. They just want to be healthy and happy for as long as possible.
4. They also just want me to be happy and healthy.

The Silver Lining I See In All of This Right Now?

I am here (physically and mentally) to help my personal connection.

I know we are not alone in this.

We’re not alone in having this circumstance suddenly thrust upon our lives at 7pm on some random Tuesday.

We’re not alone in our respective feelings about what information we do or do not want to disclose publicly.

We are not alone in wanting people to be happy and healthy.

I know that it will not be easy, there will be good days and bad days.
I know that as much as I will need to be a caretaker for them as this progresses, I will still need to be a caretaker for myself by making time for my own mental, emotional and physical well-being.
I know I will make a lot of selfless choices and twist myself into a pretzel to put their needs first.
I know there will be times that I will feel guilty for the times I need to choose to be selfish and put my own needs first.

I know I’m not alone in any of this.
And, I know there will be plenty of times I feel like I am completely alone with this.

What I don’t know, is how much this will end up altering, delaying or belaying the other plans I had in progress for my own path this year.

I also don’t know who or how other people will show up as my personal support to shows me that I’m not actually alone in this.

Because knowing something is true is one thing; but being shown something is true is entirely different.

Peace, Love, Happy Wednesday, Good Luck,
Take Care,

— Melissa / Mo Jo Jo 💜

I haven’t been there yet, but the name and phrasing remind me of archetypes and of something much bigger than clever branding. Nietzsche once wrote:

“Around the hero everything becomes a tragedy; around the demigod everything becomes a satyr-play; and around God everything becomes—what? perhaps a world?”

That line lingers with me because the tragedies in my life are why I reject being called either “victim” or “hero.” I prefer the Everyman archetype.

What We Mean by Hero

Heroism has never had just one definition.

• Homeric heroes like Achilles and Odysseus were larger-than-life, semi-divine. Their greatness brought glory, but it also dragged others into ruin.

• Shakespeare’s heroes were marked by flaw and fate. Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello — men whose greatness and downfall couldn’t be separated.

• Nietzsche’s hero carried the same tragic gravity: those who insist on living “more” than the common lot pull everything around them into tragedy.

• Jung later framed the Hero as one archetype among many.

The crucial point is this: a hero is almost never self-declared. They are defined by those who watch them. Across time, “hero” has always been something projected onto someone by others.

But if the Hero is always created in the eyes of others — what happens to the Everyman, the one who doesn’t seek to be defined at all?

Everyman vs. Hero

The Everyman represents survival, continuity, connection. They live alongside others without spectacle.

But modern culture resists leaving anyone in that role. Tragedy must be turned into purpose. Pain must be turned into triumph. If you don’t transform, you’re labeled victim; if you do, you’re crowned hero. The Everyman gets erased, pulled into a story arc that isn’t theirs.

Part of the problem is how the Everyman gets defined today. In branding and writing guides, the Everyman is often reduced to clichés: the one who just wants to “fit in,” or the “ordinary person who rises to extraordinary challenges.” Both miss the mark. Wanting to belong is human, but it isn’t the essence of the archetype. And rewriting the Everyman as a hidden Hero only repeats the collapse I’m pushing back against.

When I say I prefer the Everyman archetype, I half expect to be misunderstood. I don’t mean “the character waiting to become heroic.” I mean the human among humans. The one who endures, who continues, who exists without needing to be rewritten into triumph.

For me, the Everyman doesn’t overcome tragedy. The Everyman coexists with it. And that should be enough.

Campbell and the Collapse

Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces blurred the line between Hero and Everyman even further. He condensed myths from around the world into a single arc:

• Departure

• Initiation

• Return

The pattern is powerful, but Campbell universalized it so aggressively that the Hero became the only story. The Everyman was recast as a Hero-in-waiting. Ordinary life itself became just the opening act of a heroic journey.

Once that frame took hold, survival was no longer acceptable. Every story had to become transformation. And when every story must transform, the message eventually distills into something even simpler.

The Instagram Imperatives

That’s how we ended up with slogans like:

• “Be the hero of your own story.”

• “No one is coming to save you.”

Both can be motivating, and both can be damaging.

“Be the hero” encourages agency, but it also demands transformation. Just surviving isn’t enough.

“No one is coming” pushes against passivity, but it also isolates. It denies the truth that humans live in community and depend on each other.

These are fragments of the Hero’s Journey stripped of nuance — flattened into imperatives and sold as motivation until they sound like law.

And when words like these dominate, our sense of “hero” shifts again.

Modern Heroism

Today, “hero” is everywhere:

• Soldiers called war heroes.

• Teachers, doctors, firefighters framed as community heroes.

• Superheroes dominating pop culture as entertainment idols.

We even talk about “unsung heroes.” But even here, small acts — like a firefighter rescuing a kitten from a tree — get inflated into heroics. The tree isn’t a villain, but the cultural grammar of heroism insists on one.

And almost no one self-defines as a hero. When they do, it feels hollow. The role is always conferred by others, and with it comes distortion and weight.

Which brings me to the next collapse.

From Everyman to Hero to Idol

The way society defines people has never stood still. Archetypes that once carried distinct meanings have collapsed into each other.

Traditionally, the sequence went one way: the Everyman might become a Hero through action or fate, and only then risk being turned into an Idol. Idolization came after heroism.

But today, the order often reverses. Public attention creates idols first. Visibility itself is enough. Celebrities, influencers, even politicians are idolized before they’ve done anything that might be called heroic. And once idolized, we retrofit “hero” onto them — as if the projection itself were proof.

That’s why the phrase “Never meet your heroes” exists. It isn’t really about heroes at all — it’s about idols. The public persona doesn’t match the private self. What disappoints us isn’t that the Everyman failed to be heroic, but that we refused to let them remain Everyman in the first place.

This isn’t just about superheroes or myths. It’s about how we treat real people — soldiers, teachers, celebrities, neighbors. We elevate them, freeze them, consume them as symbols. But in the end, a hero or an idol is still a person.

And yet, in the modern world, we don’t allow them to remain that way.

Everything but the Hero

Nietzsche saw how the hero archetype pulls life into tragedy. Campbell universalized it until every life was pressed into a Hero’s Journey. Modern culture idolizes it into slogans that flatten all other ways of being.

Just like oranges are not the only fruit, the Hero is not the only archetype.

Be the Sage, Magician, Rebel, Lover, Creator, Explorer, Innocent, Caregiver, Jester, Ruler — or Everyman.

Which is why the phrase stays with me:

Be everything (and anything) but the Hero.

And that may have absolutely nothing to do with why this café is named the way it is.

But that’s why I am fixated on the name, and it’s why I’m drawn to visit it.

You may ask, why haven’t you gone?

And I would say, my reasons are entirely my own.

Maybe I have been avoiding facing the collapse of archetypes, and it translated into me avoiding a place that serves the one thing I treat as both a gift from the gods and a necessity in my life— coffee.

Thank you for listening, or ignoring, whichever it is.

—Melissa/ Mo Jo Jo 💜

Last week questioning rainbows and other random thoughts, I asked: Why was today the day one of these chickens decided to try to pick a fight with me?
Seven days later, I’m still asking. But here’s what actually happened.

It was the start of my third week at the chicken farm. Two full weeks of walking among these black chickens without a single issue. I’d even gotten cocky (pun intended) about it. I could cluck, bawk, and crow with the best of them—thank you Mary Martin in Peter Pan and Tim Curry & Carol Burnett in Annie for the absurd foundation of my rooster impression. In college, we even turned it into some bizarre Marco Polo–meets–chicken game.

Point is: I wasn’t nervous. Which is funny, because every other bird within six feet usually sends me into a panic. But these ones? I could walk through them like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Until Monday. Rainy Monday.

One chicken in a coop got uppity—head bobbing, circling, lunging in little feints. I’ve always called geese “cobra-chickens” because of how they hiss and coil before striking. Turns out roosters have their own cobra stance. The first one just warned me. The second one? He didn’t bluff.

I was in the open yard, empty-handed, on my way to clean buckets when he locked eyes on me. He circled. Hypnotic. I kept muttering, “What? Go. Don’t do it.” He acted like he might back down.

And then I made the mistake. I turned my head.

Do not turn your back on a chicken.

He launched—talons first—grabbed just above my boot and slammed his beak right above my kneecap. Damn that hurt. Then he dropped his head like he was coming back for round two. I did some ridiculous footwork (wish someone had filmed it) and danced my way out of range. Managed to snap a photo of my attacker before retreating.

I finished my chores—because what else do you do?—moved a giant rock to make a new step, climbed up and down with an injured knee, then finally admitted I needed disinfectant. By the time backup arrived, I was limping but moving. Thank god for povidone-iodine, ethanol, and my stash of latex-free bandages.

Here’s where the timing made everything worse: I’d already been feeling sick for days. Feverish, cycling hot and cold, not myself. So when I finally told my host about the chicken, and then showed up at dinner looking like death warmed over, she panicked. It was her first time needing to get a volunteer medical attention. She worried about tetanus. I worried about mosquito-borne illnesses. The doctor said: acute stress. Which, honestly, tracks. I’d been working farms for over 30 days in what turned out to be the hottest summer in South Korea since 1973—90+ degree days, heat indexes 105–110°F, humidity like soup. Stress sneaks up and claws you too.

The wound is healing. The bruise is impressive. No infection so far. My main concern now is watching for septic bursitis (“nurse’s kid + medical education” = not quite hypochondriac problems), but it looks fine.

As for why this happened?

• One theory: I was sick, and the chickens sensed it, tried to defend the flock.

• Another: I was still a stranger, even after three weeks.

• My theory: maybe my zodiac (metal rooster) decided I needed material. What else are your zodiac animals supposed to do for you?

I don’t know. But I do know this: it’s been a long time since I bled from a chicken.

— Melissa/MoJo Jo💜

PS: My knee looks like I lost a bar fight with a bird. But healing fine.

Sometimes my head just does this.

Welcome to my inner monologue:

If the sun shines while it’s raining — but there’s no rainbow…

Does that mean you’re already at the end of the rainbow?

What is it about the texture of something that makes it intolerable to some people…

But thousands of other people have no problem with it?

Immigration is so complicated.

What if we treat it like a university entrance essay and background check in one easy process:

• Please tell us in 500–750 words who you are and why you want to live in this country.

• How do you plan to contribute to society and the economy?

• Are you willing to accept our laws and regulations?

• If you violate the law or regulations, are you willing to accept the standard level of punishment as applicable by law to any other citizen?

• How do you define a “decent human being”?

• Do you know anyone who is already a citizen of this country who is willing to testify under oath regarding your personal character?
  (If yes, please provide them your application reference number and tell them to contact [X] section of the government.)

What if we handled it like that — for any country?

Why was today the day one of these chickens decided to try to pick a fight with me?

Those are the things I thought about — in the order they popped into my head.

What do you think about on a Monday evening while there’s an internet outage and it’s raining, while you’re drinking coffee, sitting on a porch by yourself?

— Melissa/Mo Jo Jo 💜

PS: Tuesday— a different chicken didn’t try to pick a fight, he did fight. 😑

PPS: Wednesday—Had to visit a medical clinic—unrelated to the chicken attack.

Finally posted this while at a Korean sauna [jjimjilbang (찜질방)] taking a “rest”.

“Yep.”

I know I’m important.
That’s not arrogance, it’s just truth.
Because we are all important.
And we are all unimportant.

We are all specks of dust floating around the cosmos, living our lives. Or at least one version of it — or another, if you believe in the multiverse or reincarnation.

And because I know this, I don’t need to be the most important person in the room.

In fact, the moment I try to make myself important in my own eyes, I destroy what actually makes me matter to other people.

People assume that when I say I’m unimportant, it means I feel small, insecure, or broken.

They’re wrong.

My unimportance isn’t despair. It’s freedom.

I am free to be as important or unimportant as I need to be in any given situation.

Here’s how I know.

Today I made a 73-year-old Korean woman laugh so hard she showed me pictures of her family.

She gave me a glimpse into her life, taught me words I can use, and — because part of her role here is to make sure I’m fed — she’s even started shifting how she does it. She’s noticed that I’m willing to let go of what I’m used to in the kitchen, to adapt and learn her way of doing things.

In return, she’s begun paying attention to what I like and don’t like, adjusting so I’m not abandoning everything familiar while I’m here.

And she told me not to be upset when I meet a good person.

I agree with her — though the truth is, it’s getting harder and harder to tell who the “good people” are in a digital world.

Still, she is important to me.

I’ve known her for a week. Every person I interact with is important to me in some way.

It’s an exchange of importance: I know she knows more than I do, so her ways carry more weight than mine. At the same time, she’s discovering what matters to me, and I’m discovering what matters to her.

She may believe others in her life are more important than she is, and to me, she’s already important.

I can hold that paradox of being simultaneously important and unimportant because I’ve lost more close people in my life than the years I’ve been alive — nearly double at this point.

I’ve endured cumulative grief, severe depression, suicidality, and enough brushes with death that an actuary would call me uninsurable.

By all odds, I shouldn’t be here.
But I am.

So I live fluidly. I help when I can, where I can, how I can.

Because I’m not always important.
And that’s okay.

But don’t tell me I’m important and then treat me like I’m not.

This is why I remind myself that I’m unimportant: it makes it easier to face a world that confuses ego with worth, and to deal with people who want you to feel important even when you’re not important to them.

Maybe being unimportant isn’t a problem to fix.
Maybe it’s the clearest way I know to stay alive.

Thanks for reading.

— Melissa/Mo Jo Jo💜

Here’s something I’ve seen—from the inside out, across systems and personal experience—and I think it explains a lot more than we admit.
Maybe you can also recognize it from where you sit in the world?

“If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect.”
—Benjamin Franklin

It’s one of those quotes that sounds smart until you realize it’s not just describing human nature—it’s revealing how much we’ve given up on something better.

We’ve built entire systems—corporate, personal, cultural—around appealing to interest over intellect, and we act surprised when people stop caring about logic, principle, or long-term consequence.
We keep spinning better incentives. Catchier headlines. Smarter manipulation.

But what we’ve stopped asking is maybe the most important question:

What do we lose when persuasion always comes down to leverage?

🧠 Intellect Has Value—We Just Don’t Reward It

It’s slower.
More reflective.
It asks for context, for tradeoffs, for nuance.

Intellect assumes we care about more than outcomes. It assumes we’re capable of rising above self-interest.
Which is… idealistic.
But not wrong.

We’ve just stopped building for it.

💰 Interest Isn’t the Enemy—But It’s the Default

It’s immediate.
It’s emotional.
It keeps people alive.
It’s primal—identity, safety, pleasure, power.

It’s also how every ad, every algorithm, and every institutional decision is built now.

So we’ve learned to present everything—from truth to friendship to protest—in the form of:

“Here’s how this helps you.”

And then we wonder why nothing actually changes.

🚗 The Car Example That Made It Click

I sold my car back to the same dealership I bought it from.
One owner (me).
Financed directly through the manufacturer.
Title held electronically by the state.
All required paperwork signed. No complexity.

But because of “policy,” they wouldn’t release the remainder of my payment until the title arrived—by mail—from the state.

And here’s the thing:
I wasn’t frustrated because they followed the policy.
I was frustrated because I knew the policy wasn’t designed for people in my situation.

I’ve worked in title transfer for insurance claims. I understand the risks:

• Out-of-state vehicles

• Multiple lienholders

• Sketchy ownership chains

None of that applied. The risk was virtually nonexistent.

But the system doesn’t care.
Because it wasn’t built to make judgments. It was built to protect itself.
And when the interest of the organization takes precedence, even reasonable exceptions require extra work from the people least likely to cause problems.

So I followed up. Reconfirmed timelines. Managed the process manually. Not because I had to—but because I knew I’d fall through the cracks otherwise.

And that’s when it hit me:

Even when you are the exception the policy wasn’t designed to catch—you still pay for it.

🧩 This Isn’t Just About Cars

This shows up everywhere:

In Sales & Marketing:

We’ve boiled persuasion down to “WIIFM”—What’s In It For Me?

We don’t sell ideas. We sell outcomes.
Not why it matters, but how it benefits you.

• Features don’t sell—benefits do.

• Benefits don’t convert—bridge benefits do.

• Truth doesn’t land—urgency and identity do.

It’s all reward and relatability. And that’s why even the most genuine messages have to be dressed up like clickbait just to be heard.

In Leadership & Management:

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has become a KPI tool.
Instead of:

“Let’s help people self-actualize,”
We get:
“Let’s create a sense of belonging so productivity increases.”

The logic isn’t wrong. But the intent is backwards.

We keep appealing down the ladder because we’ve forgotten how to lead upward—from value, from principle, from vision that doesn’t come with a punch card.

In Reasonable Accommodations:

Workplaces. Friendships. Communities.
Every system says it allows for flexibility—until flexibility requires actual understanding.

Accommodations, whether formal or social, are supposed to level the field.
But in practice, they often shift the burden onto the person requesting them.

• “Prove it’s necessary.”

• “Remind us again.”

• “Sorry, that’s just how the process works.”

We center interest: efficiency, precedent, optics.
And intellect—understanding the actual individual in front of us—gets outsourced to red tape and checklists.

🔍 So Where Does That Leave Us?

Franklin wasn’t wrong.
Appealing to interest works. That’s the point.
But treating it like gospel has made us forget how to persuade with anything deeper.

We've learned to frame everything in terms of benefit.
But what about value?

What about conviction?
What about transparency?
What about telling the truth and trusting people to meet it, not be seduced by it?

🛡️ The Role of Transparency & Integrity

Here’s the thing most systems don’t teach:

Transparency invites people into reality. Integrity gives them a reason to stay.

When you lead with integrity:

• You don’t need the perfect pitch.

• You don’t hide behind “what works.”

• You say what’s true—even if it’s not the fastest route to yes.

And when people feel that?
That’s persuasion of a different kind.
It’s not about getting someone to act in their own self-interest.
It’s about getting them to act on principle—even when it’s hard.

🧠💜 Final Thought

Franklin described the game.
We’re the ones who turned it into a religion.

Interest is real.
It’s powerful.
It’s human.

But so is intellect.
So is value.
So is the choice to say:

“This matters. Not because it benefits you. But because it holds up—even when no one’s rewarding it.”

And that kind of persuasion?
That’s not a tactic.
That’s a practice.
The kind that holds—across borders, beliefs, and systems.

Author’s Note:
I write this from the lens of someone living in a country that calls itself a global leader. I know my framing is shaped by Western systems and values—but I genuinely believe that the core questions here are universal.
Whether we live in structures that reward performance, obedience, or competition—we still feel the difference between being sold something—and believing in it.

— Melissa/Mo Jo Jo💜

I blinked.

“I don’t mean to be stubborn, and I don’t mean to be rude—but right now, I do not understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.”

We both stared at each other like we were being punked.

And that? That’s when the real conversation began.

I worked part-time as a custom framer—framing art, photographs, and object memorabilia.

One day, a woman came to my counter. She laid down a fully framed, matted photograph, then held up another photo in an all-glass frame and said:

“I have 3 of these in here, and I want them to be done like this one.”
(She pointed to the framed version.)
“And I want them 2x2.”

I looked at her and said, “Okay. I have questions.”

“So you want them to end up like this one—black frame, black mat—but square?”

“Yes. And I want them 2x2.”

I paused. “Do you mean you want two of them side by side? Is the third going on its own?”

“No. I want them 2x2.”

“Yeah, I’m hearing that. But I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

She paused too, looked at the frames, and repeated herself:

“We measured them, and we want them 2 by 2.”

So I tried again. “What does that mean to you?”

She placed her forearms left and right of the photo—“2…”
Then moved her hands to the top and bottom—“…by 2.”

“Okay,” I said, completely dumfounded. “You want them square. That makes sense.”

But she looked frustrated. Visibly frustrated. We were both speaking English, but somehow, nothing was landing.

I tried again.

“I’m really not trying to be stubborn or rude when I say this. I want to help you. But I really don’t understand what you mean when you say 2x2.”

She looked at the other photo. “Like this one—it’s 2 by 4.”

That photo was a rectangle. And no, this wasn’t a “squares and rectangles” logic trap. Or maybe it was.

“Wait—are you talking about ratios?” I asked.

She asked if I had a tape measure. “Yes!” I handed it over.

She stretched it across the top of the photo.

I interrupted—gently—because I saw what was about to happen.
“Hang on. Flip that over—you’re measuring in centimeters. Let’s not go there.”

She flipped it over, startled. “Oh! I didn’t notice!”

“It’s okay. Continue.”

She stretched the tape: “I want it 2…”
Then turned the tape down the side: “…by 2.”

From where I was standing, it looked like the measurement hit around 22 inches.

“So… you want it 22 by 22?”

Her face fell. “No! I don’t know. I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I thought you would.”

And I saw it—that slight quiver in her lip. The overwhelmed look in her eyes.

So I said:

“It’s okay. I’m here for you.
And we’re going to figure out how to meet in the middle of what you want
in a way we can both understand and talk about.”

That’s when the relief hit her face.

She knew I wasn’t going to dismiss her, even though we were caught in a mess of mismatched language and mental models.

I asked, “So where does that phrasing—‘2 by 2’—come from, for you?”

She looked around the store and said, “Well, you see the frames on the shelves. They say 4x6, 8x10…”

Ah.

The lightbulb went off.

I pointed to a 5x7 on the wall. “Right. Those refer to inches. So when you said 2x2, and I saw the tape hit around 22 inches… did you mean 2 feet by 2 feet? As in 24 by 24 inches?”

“YES!!!!!”

“OKAY!!! Now we’re talking.”

She looked at me and asked, “Why didn’t ‘2 by 2’ make sense to you?”

“Yeah, about that… In framing, once we hit 12 inches, we don’t switch to feet. We just stay in inches. So we go 8x10, 11x14, 16x20… no feet.”

“So you want the final framed size to be 24 inches by 24 inches, right?”

“YES! And you taught me something. Thank you!”

“Awesome. Thank you—and you’re welcome. Now let’s finish your order.”

100% true story.

When I say I want to understand people—what they mean, what they’re trying to say, and where they’re coming from—I mean it.

I will build that bridge.
Even if I have to measure it in inches.

— Melissa/Mo Jo Jo💜

Wednesday started quietly.
Just a few errands.
A cookie that caught my eye.

Technically, it called my name — because whoever made it had the brilliance to label it a Chaos Cookie.
And somehow… I knew it was mine.

Not because I love sugar (I don’t even like frosting).
But because this one had just the right kind of messy:

• Peanut butter for comfort.

• Chocolate chunk for the mood swings.

• Salted caramel for the sweetness laced with bitterness.

• And pretzels — because of course life has a twist.

No raisins. No betrayal of textures.
Just a mess that made sense.

I paused in the car, snapped a photo for my IG story — because that’s the kind of random I am — then started to back out of my space.

But that pause — those 2 or 3 minutes of cookie reverence — changed the rest of the day.

As I started to back out, I stopped.
A man was walking toward the store.
So I did what I always do: I paused, made eye contact, gave the head-nod.
The universal driver-to-pedestrian code for:
I see you. You’re safe. We’re good.

He was on the phone, mid-conversation.
No big deal — we live in a world of signals and constant communication.
But as I began to pull away again, I glanced back at him.

And he caught me looking.
With an edge.

“What?! I’m on the phone,” he snapped, assuming I was judging him.
Maybe I looked like I was.

I get it. I probably had that face — the squint I wear when I’m reading something or deep in thought.
And I know how, to an outside observer, that can come off as scrutiny.

Especially for a Black man walking through a parking lot, being stared at by a Caucasian woman.

But I wasn’t judging him.
I was reading his shirt.

Because that’s what words on shirts are for, right?

So I answered, plain and honest:
“Yeah, I know. I was reading your shirt.”

His whole energy shifted.
“Oh!!”

By the time he’d walked behind my car and ended up near my passenger-side window, he turned a little toward me.

“Hmm. What’s it say?” he asked, like he couldn’t quite remember.

“Be Strong. Believe in Yourself. Never Give Up.”

I nodded, smiled, flashed a ✌🏼, and said:
“I approve.”

He laughed.

I didn’t cry — but I could’ve.
Because that shirt said exactly what I needed to hear.

It was my dad’s birthday.
He’s been gone just over two years.

When I wrote his obituary, we debated the phrasing:
“Everyone was a friend…”
But it didn’t sit right.
So we changed it to:
“He never let anyone remain a stranger.”

Because not everyone’s a friend.
But moments like that?
They remind you what connection can look like — without pretending it’s more than it is.

Ten minutes.
One cookie.
One shirt that didn’t miss me.

Two people who didn’t walk away as strangers.
Just two humans — seen, not judged.

— Mo Jo Jo 💜

I didn’t plan for this week to unravel.
But it did.

The one thing that felt right — giving a handmade box to someone who needed it —
got buried under everything else falling apart.

The box wasn’t new. I made it a year ago.
Painted it with a sun, a moon, and a scattering of gold shooting stars.
The word hopes across the front — not as a decoration, but as a container.
For the dreams I wasn’t ready to let go of yet.
The ones that didn’t die — just went quiet.

I tried to sell it.
No one wanted it.

Then I met her.

She wasn’t looking for a box.
But she had the kind of soul that needed one.
Not even 21. Kind. Fierce in a quiet way.
Her name? Was Hope.
Of course it was.

She forgot her wallet.
I didn’t care.
The box wasn’t for sale anymore. It already belonged to her.
And I knew she’d understand when she opened it.

That moment should have lifted me.
But I was already sinking.

By the end of that week, I couldn’t quiet my brain.
I tried to message the one friend who usually got it.
But I kept deleting the words.
Because I didn’t feel like I could show up in pieces anymore.

So I said nothing.
Almost nothing.

But somehow —
through all the static —
they made me laugh.

Not because they said the right thing.
Not because everything was fine.
But because something broke through.
And in that tiny crack,
I remembered what it felt like
to not carry it alone.

— Mo Jo Jo 💜

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For the first time in a while
I laughed.
I smiled.
I didn’t forget about what’s been weighing me down.
But I was able to let it fade —
into the background.

I know. Me. Quoting McConaughey.
But listen—he said something that hit hard.
And then the cats showed up.

Mo Jo Jo’s notes on success, self-determination, and cat logic

Every Friday, I open an email from Matthew McConaughey.

It’s not hype. It’s not branding.
It’s him—raw, grounded, and often annoyingly on point.

My favorite line so far?

“Whatever your definition of success is in your life right now, do yourself this favor, don't choose to do things that will jeopardize THAT definition.”

That one stopped me cold.
Because how often do we do exactly that in the name of “progress” or someone else’s version of it?

Other quotes I’ve highlighted and returned to:

“Prioritize who you are, who you want to be and don't spend time with anything that antagonizes your character.”

“Be brave, take the hill, but first answer that question: What's my hill? What is it I want to achieve? Where is it I want to be? What’s MY definition of success? Not anyone else’s.”

“Tend your garden. Keep the things that are important to you in good shape. Succeed.”

Now, today’s topic in his email didn’t hit home because it existed in a vacuum.
It hit because my life doesn’t.

Everything I think, read, feel, and do exists as part of this Friday-at-large…
this daily rhythm of connecting dots across everything, everywhere, all at once.

And this idea of “success”?
It’s never been one-size-fits-all.
Yet the modern world keeps trying to convince us it is.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to live up to someone else’s expectations of what success should look like for me.

I’ve read more motivational quotes than I can count.
And if I’m being brutally honest?
A lot of them make me roll my eyes.

One that really gets under my skin?

“The obstacle is the way.”

For the love of god—if you don’t know what my obstacles are,
please don’t tell me they’re all sacred stepping stones.

I’ve lived too much of my life as a hyper-independent to take that advice at face value.

McConaughey’s words reminded me of a comment I’d just made to a “social media friend”
(that’s what I call most of my mutuals on IG).

Their post said something like:

“Embrace every obstacle as an opportunity for growth.”

And my immediate reply?

“…and know which obstacles are not yours to clear.” 🫶🏼

Because sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is recognize:

That’s not my hill.
That’s not my fight.
That’s not my definition.

And then walk on.

Basically? I’m a lot like a cat.

I love and hate boxes.
(Just like I love and hate labels.)

Physical boxes? Amazing. Incredibly useful.
I will use them (or sit in them) forever.

Metaphorical boxes and checkboxes? Not so much.
Physical labels? Super helpful.
Labels for people? Total BS.

Back to the cat logic:

If I fits, I sits.
If not, I’ll destroy the box like it’s my mission in life—
Unless I decide to just break the box partway so I mostly fit.

Why?

Because I’m a cat with a box.
And what I do with it is entirely up to me.

— Mo Jo Jo 💜

🐾 Obligatory End Bit

(but with my flair for chaos and cats 😼)

If you enjoyed reading this, feel free to like or leave a comment—
bonus points if that comment includes a cat.
🐈 🐈‍⬛ 🙀 😻 😹

If you didn’t enjoy reading this—but like cats—comment with a cat anyway. 😸
It’s the universal peace offering.

If you want to hear McConaughey say the quote that started this whole thing,
you’ll find his weekly newsletter link on his Instagram.
(I’m not his ghostwriter—it’s not my job to give you the link. I’m just one of his fans. Self-proclaimed since 1993.)

PS:
If this sparked something and you want to share—cool.

But if you send me something that looks like spam,
ask if I want to be someone's official fan,
slide in with something “too good to be true,”
or try to romance me—
you will be ignored. 🫥

Seriously. Use your judgment.

PPS:
If you're looking for a ghostwriter (or any other hats I wear professionally)
and think I might be the right fit—great!
Please use the contact form on my website:
👉 https://www.writtenbymojojo.com/#propath

I recently came across a piece of advice offered by a respected teacher to a mother struggling to understand her daughter’s distance and emotional withdrawal.

The advice was well-intentioned—but parts of it stayed with me for the wrong reasons. Because I’ve lived through that kind of pain. And what was said… missed something crucial.

The daughter in question had grown withdrawn. She avoided her sister, felt unloved, and had plans to move away. The teacher responded by expressing concern that her behavior might signal mental illness, even suggesting that if her emotional state worsened, she could become suicidal—either to hurt herself or to provoke regret in others.

I understand why someone might say that. But that interpretation doesn’t reflect the full reality of what suicidal thinking often is—or where it comes from. And for those of us who’ve lived with it, or lost someone to it, that difference matters deeply.

When Pain Is Misread as Punishment

It’s true that some people, in moments of desperation or anger, may think, “They’ll regret this when I’m gone.” But in my experience—and in the experiences of many I’ve known and lost—this is not the dominant voice of suicidal thinking.

Suicidal thoughts don’t usually come from a place of revenge.
They come from exhaustion, disconnection, and a deep, aching absence of hope.
They’re not driven by a desire to make someone else feel guilty. They’re often fueled by the belief that no one would care at all.

To suggest that the core of suicidal behavior is about proving one’s value to others—through death or harm—is not just a misreading. It risks reinforcing shame in those who are already carrying far more than they can hold.

It also assumes a kind of control that, for many, simply doesn’t exist. In that place, it’s not about sending a message. It’s about trying to stop the pain.

Absence Isn’t Always Illness

What also troubled me was how quickly the daughter’s behavior was interpreted as a sign of mental illness. She was withdrawn. She didn’t eat with the family. She slept often. She didn’t want to interact with her sister. These are signs of distress, yes—but they are also, sometimes, natural human responses to emotional injury.

People pull away when they feel unheard.
They shut down when they’re hurt and don’t feel safe enough to speak.
That doesn’t always mean there’s a disorder to diagnose. Sometimes it just means there’s a story no one’s asked to hear.

To immediately frame this daughter as unstable—or worse, dangerous—without asking what happened to her, does more than miss the mark. It sets the stage for silence. For reducing her to a problem to manage, instead of a person to understand.

When Support Feels Like Surrender

The suggestion to avoid confrontation and offer "quiet presence" may be rooted in compassion—but without proper context, it risks becoming another form of dismissal. When someone is already feeling abandoned or unseen, stepping back in silence can feel less like love and more like confirmation: You are, in fact, too much to deal with.

There’s wisdom in not escalating conflict.
But there’s also harm in withdrawing presence while assuming pathology.

Support isn’t just about avoiding tension—it’s about witnessing pain, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then. Sometimes presence means not fixing—but it never means disappearing.

Resistance Isn’t Denial—It’s Protection

It was also suggested that people sometimes resist treatment because it would mean admitting they are the problem. That may sound logical on the surface—but it’s a dangerous oversimplification.

Many people don’t avoid therapy because they’re in denial.
They avoid it because they’ve been harmed before—by misdiagnosis, by being dismissed, by the feeling that help was really just control in disguise.

For some, saying "yes" to treatment doesn’t feel like support. It feels like surrendering to a system that already failed them.

We need to be careful not to confuse self-protection with resistance. Not everyone who says "no" to help is rejecting healing.
Sometimes, they’re just trying to survive it on their own terms—because those are the only terms that have ever felt safe.

When Vulnerability Isn’t Safe

There’s an idea—often unspoken but widely held—that if someone is aware of their own mental health struggles, they should be willing to ask for help. That if they don’t, they must not want to get better. Or worse—they’re choosing to stay in pain.

But what if you’ve asked before—and it backfired?
What if the people you trusted with your pain used it against you?
What if your attempts at honesty were met with silence, judgment, or leverage?

That’s the part no one wants to talk about.

Vulnerability is not always safe. It is not always rewarded. And in some cases, it becomes something people survive in spite of, not because of. When the people you thought would help become the ones who cause more harm, you learn to stop reaching out. You learn to carry it alone. You start saying "no" to anyone who thinks they can help you, because you learn that they rarely try to understand. Also, there are some truths so uncomfortable, people refuse to believe them—even when they’re real.

So, no—resistance isn’t always denial.
And silence isn’t always pride.
Sometimes it’s a boundary. Sometimes it’s a shield.
And sometimes, it’s just what someone had to do to stay alive.

Culture Doesn’t Cancel Experience

Yes, I’m American. And I understand that cultural differences shape how we interpret emotional pain, family roles, and mental health. In more collectivist societies, values like harmony, respect for elders, and shared identity are often central. I also know that, from the outside, my perspective might sound unusually independent—or even overly personal.

But that independence wasn’t something I chose.
It was something I had to build—because, for a long time, and often still, I have no one I can lean on. My pain was dismissed, ignored, or misunderstood by the very people who were supposed to protect me.

That kind of experience changes you.
And I know I’m not the only one.

Even in families or cultures that deeply value connection, someone in pain can still feel isolated—especially when their suffering doesn’t follow expected patterns or isn’t easily explained.

So while I speak from a Western context, what I’ve lived through is something I’ve seen in people across many backgrounds. The specifics may differ. But the hurt? The invisibility? That’s not unique to one culture. It’s a deeply human experience.

Respect, With Honesty

I still believe in compassionate teaching. I still believe in the importance of spiritual and emotional guidance. But respect doesn’t mean agreement in all things—and reverence should never require silence.

When we talk about suicide, we are not just discussing behavior. We are stepping into the lives of people who may already feel like ghosts in their own homes. We owe them more than a theory. We owe them the fullness of listening.

This isn’t about defending someone who’s suffering.
It’s about believing them—even when their pain makes no sense to us.
Especially then.

Not all pain looks the same.
Not all silence is a symptom.
And not all who disappear do so to be noticed.

Sometimes, they disappear because they were never truly seen at all.

If you’ve felt this way too—you’re not alone. And neither am I.


— Mo Jo Jo 💜

Not because I don’t want to—but because I’ve had to make peace with the tradeoffs.

It’s not shame. It’s reality. And honestly? It’s made me appreciate it more.

It started with an observation:

“Simple pleasures: a nice warm shower.”

One of those moments where you’re trying to be mindful—

Trying to find the small wins. Something to be grateful for.

But then my brain did what it always does.

It paused, it tilted, it questioned, it reframed.

Was it really just a simple pleasure?

Or was it something else entirely?

“Perhaps I should call it an underrated luxury.”

Because I mean it.

Then this happened…

Thought train (journal prompt):

Name one thing most people consider a “simple pleasure” or “routine activity” that is actually taken for granted.

My answer:

A warm shower—even with crappy water pressure.

I believe a warm shower is an underrated luxury.

Don’t believe me? Then you don’t know me.

I used to be someone who showered daily—sometimes multiple times a day.

Then the pandemic happened, and something changed.

I realized it while talking to a customer during lockdown. We joked about how small things—like showering every day—had quietly fallen away.

At first, I thought I was being lazy. But I wasn’t alone. And honestly, if you’re not leaving the house or doing anything strenuous… is there really a reason to shower daily?

Later, when the world started opening back up, I casually said, “I really should’ve showered today.”

The person I was talking to was shocked.

“Oh! I could never go without a shower. I literally couldn’t survive if I didn’t take one every day.”

And that’s when it hit me.

To them, a shower wasn’t only a necessity.

It was forgone conclusion.

A non-negotiable part of daily life.

Maybe even a right.

And you know what? Great. I’m glad they have the privilege of thinking that way. I hope they get to shower every day for the rest of their life.

But here’s the thing:

We worked the same job.

Same position.

Same tax bracket.

Same general cultural heritage.

And still, we didn’t see eye to eye.

I didn’t judge them for needing a daily shower.

But they judged me for not.

Heaven forbid they ever found out I’ve voluntarily gone five days without one.

Here’s what changed my perspective:

There’s a plumbing issue in this house that hasn’t been fixed for years. The water pressure is awful.

Fixing it would require replacing most (or all) of the pipes, at a cost of $5,000–$10,000. In this income bracket, that’s not a minor expense.

In the winter, it’s a lose-lose:

Hot water with barely any pressure, or cold water with just enough.

So I started hating showers.

I looked into other options, but they either cost money or time. And time, just like money, isn’t unlimited.

Eventually, I decided:

What if I made showers scarce?

I applied the same mindset everyone says to avoid—scarcity.

And funny enough, I started to appreciate them again.

(Isn’t that ironic? Gaining abundance through restraint.)

That first warm shower after a few days?

It felt incredible.

Soothing. Cleansing. Calming.

More than a routine.

It became a reward.

That’s why I call it a luxury.

Because not everyone has access to warm water every day.

Not everyone has plumbing that works well.

Not everyone has a home where they feel safe enough to shower.

I do. And because I do, I don’t take it for granted.

I choose to view it as a luxury—because it is.

And isn’t that what luxury really means?

Not just expensive things—

But things not everyone has access to.

We tend to define luxury as designer bags, Michelin-star meals, swanky hotels, isolated mansions.

And if those are the types of luxury you want? Cool. I hope you get them.

But me?

I think luxury is having simple things that mean more to me.

Some people say I ride a “moral high horse” with how I see the world.

That’s fine.

I know my perspective isn’t wrong.

Today, I woke up, went to work, and thought, “Damn, I should’ve showered.”

But I didn’t have time.

Tonight, after a much-needed nap, I finally took one.

It was amazing.

Not just a simple pleasure.

A quiet, underrated luxury.

— Mo Jo Jo 💜

There’s a strange kind of invisibility that happens when you are known but not seen. When people know you exist but do not acknowledge you in any meaningful way.

It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes, it’s the way conversations happen around you, as if you’re furniture. Sometimes, it’s the way people assume they understand you without ever asking the right questions.

And sometimes, it’s even worse—they see you only in the ways that are convenient for them. They recognize the parts of you that serve their needs, their expectations, their comfort—but not the full picture.

Just because you don’t see my face doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Just because you don’t acknowledge my presence doesn’t mean I am gone.
And just because you assume you know me doesn’t mean you truly do.

And just because you feel invisible—doesn’t mean you are.

A Lesson in Invisibility

I was well ahead of my class in reading level in first grade. I should have been placed in a third or fourth-grade reading group, but instead, they bumped me to second grade—just one step up. The likely reason? I was "not properly socialized" for my age. Because that’s how school works, or at least how it used to. No matter your abilities, they kept you where they felt you belonged.

But here’s what belonging looked like:

One girl on my right, one girl on my left, both a grade level ahead of me. Not significantly older—maybe six months, a year at most. We sat at our desks, doing the same assignment. And then—

The girl on my right reaches across my desk, her arm right in front of my face, to pass something to the girl on my left. No "excuse me," no request to pass it along, no acknowledgement of my presence at all.

She didn’t just ignore me. She acted as if I physically wasn’t there.

I wasn’t "properly socialized," they said. But what is socialization if not the expectation that we recognize and respect each other’s presence?

So, I responded in the most non-socialized way possible. I did the first thing that came to mind. Like a feral cat, I opened my mouth, leaned forward, and bit her arm.

Was my reaction the “right” thing to do? Of course not.
Was it proper behavior? No.

Did she deserve to be completely ignored, have her existence erased, and be treated like empty space? Also no.

Now, I will admit, if she hadn’t crossed into my personal “bubble”, I wouldn’t have done what I did. That would have required me to go well out of my way from what I was doing.

Did I deserve to be completely ignored by her? No

Was I forced to apologize? Yes.
Was she? No.

Unlearn to Relearn?

So, what did I learn from this at the tender age of about six? It’s okay for people to ignore your boundaries, but not okay for you to ignore theirs.

Fast forward about twenty years, and the same thing happened—except this time, it wasn’t a kid in a classroom.

A gentleman co-worker (and I’m using gentleman loosely here) reached in front of me, across my keyboard, to grab my stapler.

Did I bite his arm? No.

Did I still lash out with words? Hell yes.

Because, seriously—WTF is wrong with people?!

The difference?

• He and I had a friendly back-and-forth. We’d poke at each other’s nerves on purpose.

• He immediately apologized (and genuinely) for crossing my boundary.

• He learned a lesson, and so did I.

What did he learn? That there were limits to what I’d tolerate.

What did I learn? That I need a damn sign that says:

⚠ Caution: Entering my personal space without warning, permission, or acknowledgment may result in personal insult or injury.

I am not responsible for the consequences of your actions.

The Burden of Visibility

This is how invisibility works. It’s not just about being unseen—it’s about how the weight of that invisibility is placed entirely on you.

If you’re ignored, you’re expected to accept it. If you react, you’re the problem. If you try to assert your presence, you’re doing it wrong.

And over time, you learn to fold into yourself. You learn to be less disruptive, to take-up less space, to quietly exist in the hopes that maybe, eventually, someone will acknowledge you in the right way.

But here’s the truth:

Just because you feel invisible doesn’t mean you are.
Just because they refuse to see you doesn’t mean you don’t exist.
And just because the world teaches you to shrink doesn’t mean you have to.

The Last Bite (But with words)

I learned early in life—that being ignored doesn’t mean you disappear. It just means you’re the only one carrying the weight of it. But I also learned that speaking up—even if it makes people uncomfortable—is sometimes the only way to remind the world that you’re here.

If you’ve ever felt invisible, you’re not alone.

If you’ve ever made someone else feel invisible, maybe it’s time to ask yourself why.

The next time someone crosses your space without acknowledgment, remember: Just because they refuse to see you doesn’t mean you aren’t there.

You have 2 Options:

• Use your words, not your teeth! 😉

• Accept it (and let it go).

Have you ever had a moment where someone acted like you weren’t there? Or a time when you had to remind them? Let’s talk about it.

Leave a comment

It’s not the fear of failure—but the fear of who I might become if I succeed.

I don’t want to be someone who gets comfortable with a world of people fighting to survive.
I don’t want to stop seeing the things that need to change.
I don’t want to wake up one day and say, “Well, that’s just how the world works.”

Because that’s what a lot of people seem to do.

They get theirs, and they move on.
Maybe they were never in it -- and they block it out.
Maybe they rise above it -- and they forget.

I know myself well enough to know: I never will.

I don’t want to just rise above.
I want to rise and reach out a hand to pull people up beside me.

"I drive by the homeless sleeping on a cold dark street

Like bodies in an open grave

Underneath the broken old neon sign

That used to read "Jesus saves"

A mile away live the rich folks

And I see how they're living it up

Oh, while the poor, they eat from hand to mouth

The rich are drinking from a golden cup."

I’ve thought about this a lot, I saw more homeless people on the streets in Louisville than I did in San Francisco.

No matter how far I climb, no matter how much success I do or don’t achieve, I will always stand with and try to help the people who have less than I do.

Less knowledge. Less opportunity. Fewer resources.

Because the gap between the haves and have-nots keeps growing.

And the reality is, when you’re at the bottom—or at a personal rock bottom—it’s nearly impossible to break out of that cycle without help.

I never want to be so successful that I stop seeing them, that I stop helping in ways that I can, that I stop wanting there to be help for them, or ways for them to be able to help themselves that don’t require minor miracles and stars to align.

And That 'Jesus Saves' sign is broken (in the lyrics)—flashing 'Save Us,' just like in The Crow 2.

The song came first, but that sign signals a theme.

People begging for help, but they are invisible, overlooked, avoided.

It's beyond just me (to try to fix).

Give me something to believe in.

Related:
Part 1 (has links for all 4 parts of this series)

The Basic Rules to Follow After an Accident

Accidents happen. Whether it's a fender bender or a major collision, staying calm and taking the right steps can make all the difference. Here's what to do:

1. Check for Injuries & Seek Medical Attention if Needed – Safety first. Call 911 if anyone is injured. Some injuries aren’t obvious right away, so if you feel any pain later, get checked out.

2. Call the Police – A police report can be crucial for insurance claims, even in minor accidents. It clears up any “he said, she said” situations.

3. Exchange Information – Get the other driver’s name, contact info, insurance details, and license plate number. Just the facts—no need to swap life stories.

4. Don’t Admit Fault or Overshare – Even if you feel like it was your fault, don’t say it out loud. Stick to the facts when talking to the police and your insurance company. Keep conversations with the other driver minimal and focused on safety. Aside from checking if they’re okay, avoid discussing the accident’s details. Even a casual “I didn’t see you” can be used against you later.

5. Document the Scene – Take photos of all vehicles involved, license plates, damages, and the surrounding area. The more details, the better.

6. Notify Your Insurance Company – Report the accident as soon as possible, even if you don’t plan to file a claim. Waiting too long can complicate things.

What Most People Don’t Know About Auto Accidents

• Your Insurance May Go Up Even If You’re Not at Fault – Insurance companies adjust premiums based on risk, not just fault. It’s annoying, but it’s how it works. And your insurance agent and your claims rep have no control over it.

• Police Reports Aren’t Always Filed – In some places, the police only respond to accidents with injuries or significant damage. No report doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

• Insurance companies are not trying to "low-ball" your settlement – The initial offer is based on the insurance company’s assessment of fair market value. If you think your vehicle is worth more, provide evidence like maintenance records or comparable vehicle listings.

• Rental Car Coverage Isn’t Always Included – Just because you have insurance doesn’t mean you automatically get a rental car. Check your policy before you’re stuck without a ride.

• Not All Damages Are Immediately Visible – Internal damage or frame issues might not be obvious at first glance, but they can be costly to fix.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

• Not Having Adequate Coverage Can Be Devastating – If you’re underinsured or the other driver is uninsured, you could be paying out of pocket. Double-check your coverage before you need it.

• "FULL COVERAGE" might not mean what you think it means – Most people assume “full coverage” means everything is covered, no matter what. In reality, it typically includes liability, collision, and comprehensive, but it doesn’t mean every possible expense is covered.

• JUST SAY "YES!" to GAP INSURANCE – If you bought your car on a loan (or lease), Gap Insurance is the one purchase you won’t regret. It covers the difference between what you owe and the car’s value if it’s totaled. Without it, you could end up paying off a loan on a car you no longer own. It’s a small cost that saves you from a huge financial headache.

• Medical Bills Can Pile Up Fast – Even minor injuries can require expensive medical treatments. Don’t brush off that stiff neck or sore back. And don't try to claim injuries that don't exist.

• The Claims Process Can Be Long and Frustrating – Determining fault, negotiating with adjusters, and getting repairs done can take weeks or even months. Claims are complicated, trust me - they do try to handle your claims as quickly as possible. Patience is key. Calling your adjustor every day is not going to speed up the process, but yes, if you are not hearing back from them -- you should stay on top of your claim.

• You Might Need a Lawyer / You Might Not – But if you do, make sure they send your claim rep a Letter of Representation.

• MITIGATION IS A TWO WAY STREET - It's your vehicle, don't just let it sit "wherever". If your claim is denied (and maybe even if it's not) you are ultimately responsible for towing and storage, and for preventing additional damages – Towing and storage fees can add up quickly if you don’t move your vehicle promptly. Don’t assume someone else will take care of it and don't assume it is covered.

Wrap-Up: Accidents Happen, But You Can Be Prepared

Auto accidents are stressful, inconvenient, and sometimes downright scary. But knowing what to do (and what to avoid) can make the process a little less painful. And for the love of everything decent—don’t use an accident as a way to get someone’s number. Seriously.

Ready to drive safer? Got a story to share? Drop a comment below!

This is a follow-up piece to Auto Insurance Coverage Basics

One moment, everything is fine—then suddenly, you're dealing with the consequences. This isn’t just about insurance; it’s about being prepared for the unexpected and protecting yourself from financial disaster.

Most people don’t think much about their auto insurance until they need to use it—and by then, they often realize they didn’t fully understand what they were paying for. Terms like 'full coverage' create a false sense of security, and many drivers only learn about their coverage gaps after an accident or claim.

Auto insurance isn't just a good idea—it’s a financial safeguard. But to make the most of it, you need to know what’s covered, what’s not, and what questions to ask. This guide breaks down the basics so you can make informed decisions about your coverage before you actually need it.

With seven years of experience handling auto insurance claims—and having learned a few hard lessons myself—I’ve seen firsthand how these misconceptions cost people money & frustration. The right coverage can make all the difference.

The 3 Main Components of Auto Insurance and What They Mean

Many people assume their insurance covers everything, only to find out after an accident that they’re missing key protections. Let’s break down the core parts of an auto insurance policy so you know exactly what you’re paying for—and what’s missing.

1. Liability Coverage (the only auto insurance coverage required by US State Laws) – Covers damage to other people’s property and injuries to others if you’re at fault. It doesn’t cover your vehicle or your injuries.

   • Bodily Injury Liability: Pays for medical expenses and legal fees if you’re responsible for someone else’s injuries.

   • Property Damage Liability: Covers the cost of repairs or replacement if you damage someone else’s property.

2. Collision Coverage – Pays for repairs or replacement value of your vehicle (common misconception). There are some companies that offer direct replacement, but it’s an add-on and not standard.

3. Comprehensive Coverage – Covers damage to your vehicle caused by non-collision events, like theft, vandalism, natural disasters, falling objects, or hitting an animal.

While Liability Coverage is legally required, Collision and Comprehensive are not—unless you have a loan or lease. Lenders often require these coverages to protect their investment, but once your car is paid off, the choice is yours. However, accidents, theft, and natural disasters don’t care if you own your vehicle outright. If replacing your car tomorrow would be a financial strain, keeping Collision and Comprehensive coverages might be a smart move.

Add-Ons and Optional Coverages

Standard coverage is a good start, but it doesn’t cover everything. Many drivers only realize they need extra protection when it’s too late. Here are some additional coverages that can save you from major financial setbacks.

1. Uninsured/Underinsured Motorist Coverage – Protects you if you’re hit by a driver with no insurance or not enough insurance to cover your damages.

   This coverage is more important than most people realize. Too many drivers on the road either have no insurance at all or bare minimum liability limits that won’t come close to covering serious damages. If you don’t have this coverage, you could be left paying out of pocket for medical bills and vehicle repairs—even when you weren’t at fault.

   Example Scenario: Imagine you’re in an accident and not at fault. You own a 2020 vehicle that is currently worth $20,000 and were T-boned at an intersection. You spent a week in the hospital and needed surgery, bringing your medical bills to $30,000. Your car was deemed a total loss with damages estimated at $18,000.

   Now imagine the at-fault driver only had state minimum liability coverage—which in some states means only $15,000 for injuries and $5,000 for property damage.

   Without Uninsured/Underinsured Motorist Coverage, your options are:

   • Accept the at-fault driver’s low-limit payout and pay the rest out of pocket.

   • File under your own collision coverage (if you have it), but still be responsible for medical costs.

   • Use your own MedPay/PIP (if you have it) or health insurance for medical expenses.

   • If you do have Underinsured Motorist Coverage, your insurer can step in and pay the difference, then go after the at-fault driver’s insurance for reimbursement (subrogation).

   • State Minimums Matter: While other states also have "low" minimum limits; California1 is an excellent example of how low liability limits can leave drivers exposed. Until 2025, the state minimum was 15/30/5 (only $5,000 for property damage). As of January 1, 2025, it increased to 30/60/15—an improvement, but still potentially insufficient for serious accidents.

2. Personal Injury Protection (PIP) or Medical Payments (MedPay) – Covers medical expenses for you and your passengers, regardless of fault. PIP may also cover lost wages and other related expenses.

3. Rental Car Reimbursement – Helps pay for a rental car while your vehicle is being repaired due to a covered claim. (Note: this does not cover you for rental due to mechanical breakdown, and the duration might be shorter than you think.)

4. Roadside Assistance – Covers towing, flat tire changes, battery jump-starts, and other roadside emergencies. It's often available as an add-on to your auto policy or through a third party like AAA.

   Example Scenario: You're cruising cross-country on I-80, and suddenly your car chokes up and starts slowing down. Warning lights on the dash start flashing, and you manage to make it safely to the shoulder of the road. You weren’t in an accident, so you can't file a full insurance claim. You call roadside assistance, file a claim with them, and arrange a tow to the closest mechanic shop.

5. Gap Insurance – Covers the difference between what you owe on your loan and the car’s actual cash value if it’s totaled. Crucial if you’re financing or leasing your vehicle—because nobody wants to keep making payments on a car they don’t have anymore.

   • It is typically offered as an add-on to your financing agreement (this actually protects the bank as much as it protects you).

   • If it wasn’t part of your original financing package at the time of purchase, check to see if you can add it to your auto policy.

6. Custom Parts and Equipment Coverage – Protects aftermarket parts and modifications not covered under standard policies.
   

Remember: There Is No Such Thing as 'Full Coverage' – You Get What You Pay For

Many drivers think they're fully protected just because they have 'full coverage.' But as we've seen, this term can be misleading. Before assuming you're covered for every scenario, take a closer look at what your policy includes.

Auto insurance is something you pay for, hoping you never need it. But when you do, the right coverage can be the difference between a minor inconvenience and a financial disaster.

You can be the most defensive driver in the world and still end up as collateral damage to a reckless driver—or at the mercy of Mother Nature.

Final Thoughts: Know Before You Need It

Auto insurance can be confusing. But knowing the basics can save you time, stress, and money when it matters most.

• Read and review your policy.

• Ask questions.

• Make sure you’re covered before you need to be.

Got questions or stories about auto insurance where you learned the hard way? Drop a comment below!

Leave a comment

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Mental Health Matters.

The top four mental health disorders as of 2019 were Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar Disorder, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

A lot has changed since the global pandemic, but mostly the numbers have only increased.

I’m sharing my personal experiences.

Buckle up — it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Setting the Scene

I grew up in a town of 6,000 people.

Racial demographics: 95% Caucasian. That’s a guess… and it’s probably generous for the 1990s.
A 20-minute drive to a “metropolitan” area with about 350,000 people — significantly more diverse.

There are people who will know who I’m talking about.
But I don’t speak for them — I speak for me.

April 5, 1994

I remember when Kurt Cobain died. Suicide.

I wrote a poem about it for class — a poster-board project.
I remember yellow flowers and magazine cutouts.
Long since thrown out.
He was a musician, someone I didn’t know.
I was 13, thousands of miles away from the Seattle scene.

But it was the first suicide in current events that I remember.

Two kids in my class really liked my project.
We’ll come back to them later.

But this moment made me think about depression, self-inflicted harm, and death.

One Year Earlier

I got into trouble… for cutting on my arms and legs.
I was 12, trying to carve a tattoo into my skin.

It was what we now call “trending” — though “way back then” that term typically only applied to fashion trends.

Who knew what that would eventually lead to?

Mom had me use sandpaper and vitamin E paste to remove the scar tissue, now you can’t even see where it was, just the scar from removing it — barely perceptible.

October 1994

A friend of mine was murdered. Gang violence in the metro area.
Beaten to death with “The Club,” a steering wheel safety device from the 1990s.

The boy with him barely survived.
Rival tensions and retaliation? Wrong place, wrong time?

I was too broken to care.
It wouldn’t bring him back.

This was the 3rd or 4th death close to me in two years…
And I’m not counting Cobain.

This one sent me spiraling into feelings — like an early “goth” or “emo” kid before those were trends.

I was told I was an “old soul” with “airport eyes.”
I felt like I was losing everyone I cared about:
Through death or friends drifting apart.

Somehow, by being myself, I managed to commit social suicide.

July 28, 1995

Another boy I knew… took his own life.

Admittedly, I was closer to his sister, than I was to him… but I won’t deny, I may have had a slight crush on him.

He was popular, always seemed happy.
Sometimes moody, but what teenage boy isn’t?

I didn’t see it coming.

I tried to be happy. I tried to have fun. I tried to make friends.
But I felt disconnected.
From everything.

Everyone knew me, but no one really knew me anymore.

I rollerbladed on weekends.
Played sports, joined band and choir.
I had fun during those activities, but felt hollow as soon as they were over.

I got good grades.
I did what I was told.
I tried to stay out of trouble.

I stayed isolated.

April 23, 1996

The boy who sat alone in the hallway, drawing or writing every day at lunch.

He was a little weird, but nice once you got to know him.
I sat with him at least three to four times a week, talking about random things and his drawings.

I didn’t eat lunch back then — maybe a candy bar and a soda, or a bag of baby carrots and water.

It was nice.
Spending time with another loner.

Until one day, he wasn’t there anymore.
Yet again… I didn’t see it coming.

I asked myself, should I have noticed?
What did I miss?

Maybe two depressed teenage loners can’t see the signs they both give off.

Other Deaths

Car crashes, mostly.
One tragic incident, out of state — a family friend.

On the surface, I seemed okay.
I had boyfriends.
I hung out with small groups of people — mostly theater kids.
I spent a lot of time smiling and laughing.

I have photos to prove it.
But not many — I avoided cameras.

Body image issues, even though I was probably in the best shape of my life. I was overweight, but I was also an athlete.

Intentional self-harm.

Socially awkward: looked down on by most peers… but not all.
There were a few of us “freaks and geeks” who hung out.
Balancing between “dating” and extracurricular activities.

But by then, I had isolated myself even more.

I was a “cutter”.

Not trying to kill myself
— trying to cancel emotional pain with physical pain.
 — trying to feel something…
depending on the year.

I interacted when I needed to.
And I shut myself away and cried when I didn’t.

May 23 & October 28, 1998

Remember those two boys who liked my Cobain tribute?

I did not see it coming??
The cynic in me says in hindsight: “I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.”
Both boys killed themselves.

And I was too removed from everything to notice the warning signs.

Or maybe… I didn’t feel like I had the right to intrude.

Intentional self-harm.

Socially awkward: looked down on by most peers… but not all.
There were a few of us “freaks and geeks” who hung out.
Balancing between “dating” and extracurricular activities.

But by then, I had isolated myself even more.

I was a “cutter”.

Not trying to kill myself
— trying to cancel emotional pain with physical pain.
 — trying to feel something…
depending on the year.

I interacted when I needed to.
And I shut myself away and cried when I didn’t.

May 23 & October 28, 1998

Remember those two boys who liked my Cobain tribute?

I did not see it coming??
The cynic in me says in hindsight: “I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.”
Both boys killed themselves.

And I was too removed from everything to notice the warning signs.

Or maybe… I didn’t feel like I had the right to intrude.

April 15, 1999

This was my breaking point.

We’d known each other since I was 12.

He was my grandmother’s next-door neighbor.
We grew closer my last year of high school.
He pointed out my flaws; I pointed out his.

I knew he struggled with depression.
I tried to help. I offered my hand and my heart.

He made plans with me for the future.
Plans to visit me after I went to college.

I thought he was getting better.

Apparently, he was not.

Grandma said to me then: “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” 1

The Aftermath/ The Promise

My knees buckled 10 feet from the casket at the services.

I wanted to die.
I wanted my life to be over.

But I thought about the pain he left behind.
I thought about the pain his family was going through.

And I made a decision (A promise).
I would never take my own life.

I would never put anyone else through the pain I had been through.

Moving Forward

Yes, I’ve dealt with anxiety, depression, and PTSD.
I was even misdiagnosed as Bipolar before being diagnosed with PMDD.

Even if you think your problems are small…
Even if others have it worse…

Your feelings are not insignificant.
You belong in this world.

There is someone out there who needs you, who loves you, who will see you for who you are.

Even if you haven’t met them yet… they are out there.

So… Live. Laugh. Love.

Your whole life is ahead of you.
And someone in the world will miss you…
Even if you don’t know who they are…Yet.

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Winning? That’s for the legacy players—the ones who’ve already “made it.”

But what about the middle?

The part where you’re past the beginner stage but nowhere near the finish line.

The part where the advice contradicts itself, and the only strategy anyone offers is “keep going.”

This is the God-Tier stage of the game—where the obstacles are real, the path isn’t clear, and your next move is entirely up to you.

So how do you navigate the unknown without a map?

Where Do You Fit In?

✅ You hold onto your values, even when it costs you opportunities.

✅ You’re learning to be okay with silence—because not everything needs a reaction.

✅ You work hard, often in isolation, because it feels like the only way forward.

🔎 You’re trying to find ways to make money that don’t compromise your integrity—but those paths aren’t always obvious.

🤔 Every conversation seems to be about blaming the other side instead of finding solutions.

❌ Genuine, action-oriented problem-solving? Feels rare.

⚠ The amount of inspiration you’re getting from the world right now? Minimal.

🎉 Excited for another year of trying to figure it all out? Not exactly.

💡 You believe there are people out there who need what you offer—but finding them is the hard part.

🧭 Who are they? That’s still unclear.

🔍 Where do you even start looking? Good question.

🔄 Pivoting sounds great in theory, but how do you pivot when you don’t even know what went wrong?

🏠 And on a practical level—how do you create stability for yourself while figuring all of this out?

💬 You want to confidently walk into a business and say:

"I hear you may be having trouble with customer satisfaction. I can help. Are you interested?"

✅ That kind of clarity and directness sounds ideal.

❓ But how do you get in front of the right people to even have that conversation?

The Middle is Messy

People talk about starting something new and finishing strong, but the middle? The middle is where the contradictions pile up. The middle is where you’re expected to “trust the process,” even when the process doesn’t seem to trust you back.

Somewhere between the launch and the finish line, the rules start conflicting with each other:

🚀 Take risks! – But don’t be reckless.

🎯 Be consistent! – But don’t be boring.

🔎 Find your niche! – But don’t box yourself in.

👥 Network constantly! – But don’t be desperate.

💰 Charge what you’re worth! – But what if the people who need your help the most can’t afford it?

At some point, you start wondering—are these even rules? Or are they just guidelines people use to explain what worked for them?

The Question No One Answers

Most advice boils down to “keep going”—but what does that actually look like? Keep going where? Doing what?

Frameworks, formulas, and five-step plans tell you how to start and scale, but they don’t prepare you for the part where nothing makes sense yet.

Because the truth is:

✨ The middle is where you learn what actually works for you. ✨ The middle is where everything feels uncertain—but you keep moving anyway. ✨ The middle is where success isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about leveling up in a God-Tier game where the rules keep changing.

If you feel stuck—if you feel like you’re failing—remember: The middle isn’t failure. It’s just proof you’re still in the game. And that matters more than you think.

You’ve seen the ads.

Some grinning entrepreneur swears they cracked the code. “I was broke, lost, and stuck in my 9-to-5, but now I make $100K a month working from a beach! And you can too—just buy my course!”

Or maybe it’s the influencer promising you “This one simple trick will change your life!”—which, of course, you’ll only learn after you sign up for their free masterclass (that’s actually just an extended sales pitch).

Or worse—the ones who lure you in with a $27 intro course, only to stack add-ons at every step. Before you know it, you’ve spent hundreds just to unlock what was promised at the start (secret: you can't fully utilize the original $27 product unless you buy at least some of the add-ons).

Meanwhile, I’ve seen plenty of Mary Kay, Avon, and Pampered Chef reps thriving—without being pushy. How? Simple: honest product education. They feature what works and how it works, not just hype the benefits ‘if’ it works for you.

Marketing That Looks Like a Scam (And How to Fix It)

The way online marketing is structured today makes everything look fake—even the things that are legitimate. Here’s why:

❌ Over-Promising, Under-Delivering

If you claim your free training will teach something but just hype your paid course, you’ve already lost trust.
✅ People are tired of bait-and-switch tactics.
✅ If you can’t provide any value for free, why should anyone believe your paid content will be worth it?

❌ Trying Too Hard to Look Credible

The more someone shouts about how legit they are, the less believable they seem.
✅ Flashy screenshots of Stripe accounts? Could be fake.
✅ “I made 7 figures from blogging!”? Cool, but what’s the full story?
✅ Client testimonials? Are they real, or just a friend doing you a favor?

In an age of AI-generated profiles and exaggerated success stories, trust comes from real engagement—not a laundry list of unverifiable claims.

❌ Withholding All the Value for the Paid Course

A “free” masterclass that teaches nothing and exists only to upsell a program wastes people’s time.
✅ If you truly know what you’re talking about, you can teach something valuable in 30 minutes.
✅ Good course creators teach first, sell later, and respect their audience.

What a Ghostwriter (or Ethical Consultant) Can Do Instead

If you want to build a real business without relying on manipulative marketing, here’s what you need:

✅ Storytelling that connects, not coerces.

Your brand voice should be clear, authentic, and valuable—not just a collection of generic sales lines. A ghostwriter can craft engaging content that builds trust without constantly pushing a pitch.

✅ Long-term content strategy.

Instead of running spammy ads, businesses can use well-crafted emails, blogs, and social content to nurture an audience over time. A ghostwriter builds that ecosystem so you don’t have to rely on hype.

✅ Educational marketing that actually teaches.

Want to prove you know your stuff? Give people real value upfront. A ghostwriter can take your expertise and turn it into guides, newsletters, and courses that genuinely help—before asking for a sale.

✅ Positioning that makes people trust you.

You don’t need fake scarcity or flashy claims. A ghostwriter helps you build trust by showcasing your real skills and experience—no gimmicks required.

✅ Copy that converts WITHOUT the sleaze.

Selling is part of business, but it doesn’t have to feel manipulative. A skilled ghostwriter can write sales pages, emails, and offers that feel natural and valuable instead of desperate and pushy.

The Truth About the Experts Who Actually Make It

I’ve worked in 4 containers over the last 12 months with 2 multi-million-dollar entrepreneurs. Here’s what they admit:

✅ It took them 10-15 years to get where they are.
✅ They didn’t start teaching until they had real, hard-earned experience to share.
✅ They have multiple levels of staff now—but they all started solo.
✅ Their high-quality content speaks for itself—their sales pitch is just a tack-on at the end, not the main focus.

And honestly? I have half a mind that one of them probably coached the other at some point.

I Don’t Hand Out a Playbook for the Fakes

I’ve worked frontline, protecting sensitive customer data, spotting fraud, and understanding how banks handle chargebacks, holds, and stolen identities. The more you know about fraud, the easier it is to see—even when it isn’t there.

I took those roles seriously, and my ethics reflect that.

And that’s exactly why scammy sales tactics and predatory capitalism piss me off.

It’s also why finding the right ghostwriting clients is a challenge. My mom once asked me, "Why do you care about how they generate it; if people will pay you money?"

Because I want to help people who are helping others, not those taking advantage of them.

Some call that a moral high-horse—I call it choosing who I stand with.

Can I afford to be picky? Not really.
Am I desperate enough to compromise my ethics? Absolutely not.

And if you’re into D&D, here’s where it gets fun:
In game, my characters tend lean Chaotic Neutral.
In real life? Chaotic Good. (because my actual alignment was not on the chart.)

So, I made my own that now includes Paradox Alignments.

Introducing: New World Order Alignments

Lawful Chaotic – The Righteous Disruptor

• Believes in laws but disrupts systems to purge evil.

• Example: A vigilante who follows legal procedures but uses unpredictable, chaotic methods to bring down corruption.

🙋🏻‍♀️❓Are you Lawful Chaotic? Do you want to be? Let’s talk about it.

Drop a comment or share your thoughts—whether on ethical marketing, scammy sales tactics, or your own experience navigating this world.

🙋🏻‍♀️❓ Are you tired of feeling like you need to use marketing that feels sleazy and want a strategy that actually works—without burning trust—reach out.

Let’s talk about how to align your business with your ethics and build something sustainable.