#honestthoughts

So forgot to post this but here is my honest Helvitica Documentary Review.

I watched the documentary and I thought to myself this is really cool - I like the cinematography aspects and the music was nice however it was very long, I think it could be half the amount of time - there was a lot of cool information and opinions on Helvetica but the screen time for the word while background music plays was just to long. So the actual documentary I would prob give like a 6 out of 10 - too long and got bored but maybe that was just me.

Now onto the actual font - I personally don't really care for Helvetica, I wouldn't say I don't use it but I defiantly don't use it for everything. There are certain designs and many in fact that Helvetica are great for but most of the designs I do I typically use more bolder typefaces and condensed fonts so I wouldn't says its my go to. I think its good but its not like the only typeface in the world.

It is crazy how one small moment can completely shift the way you see yourself and the way you move through life.

A couple of weeks ago, I penned my first Shameless Share about putting all my eggs in one basket. At that time, it was about one specific situation, and then the very next week, I found myself in almost the same type of situation with almost the same type of person. The thing that stuck with me most was the guilt. That feeling of, damn, why did I cut everybody else off to give all of my energy and attention to this one person, and it did not even work out. That guilt used to eat me alive.

For so long, I would convince myself that I had to stay in situations out of guilt or comfort. I did not want to seem like I was giving up too quickly. I did not want someone to think I was a bad person for walking away. And every time I put all my eggs in one basket and it broke, I felt stupid, like I had wasted my time.

Just a few weeks ago I laid everything out for someone I was “seeing”. I told him exactly how I felt, that his communication was inconsistent, that I liked him, but I could not deal with that anymore. He said he would call me that afternoon. I waited. The call never came. I followed up the next day, asking if we should reschedule or scrap it. Still nothing. Days went by. And something in me just flipped. I realized I had already been here too many times before. I was not going to chase or beg or keep myself in a situation that did not meet my needs. The guilt I used to feel for walking away was gone.

I was up at two in the morning, mindlessly scrolling Instagram Reels, when I stumbled across someone saying, “Never a roster. Always a line.” At first I almost laughed, but then my eyes opened so wide because it hit me different. That one little line completely shifted how I think about dating.

A roster spreads you thin. It is five or six people getting pieces of you at the same time, while none of them ever really get to know the whole you. A line is different. A line is one person at a time. You give your focus to the person in front of you, you see it through, and when it is over, you do not backtrack or recycle the same dead situations. You move forward because the line is still full.

That shift has made me happier. I do not feel guilty anymore. I can give someone my undivided attention, see if they meet my needs, and if they do not, I move on without shame. That is the freedom of the line. It allows me to be present, but it also reminds me I always have options.

So yes, I do require a lot. I require consistency, effort, and someone who values my time. And I will no longer downplay that by saying I do not need much. Because I do. And I deserve it.

And if you needed to hear this too, stop telling yourself you are “too much” or that you should not expect anything. You can be intentional, you can give someone your full focus, and you can still know that you have options. That is not selfish. That is smart.

Never a roster. Always a line.

Just a thought that has been sitting with me. Your Turn This week, reflect every night on your baskets. You can write, record, or just talk it out, whatever feels natural.

List three baskets you are pouring into right now (a job, a relationship, a friendship, a habit, a dream).

Ask yourself: Am I nurturing something that never asked for it?

Notice if your answers shift from day to day.

I will be journaling through this, too. Let’s see together what hatches and what does not by next Sunday.

Shamelessly yours,

The hardest part is not being vulnerable. It is realizing no one shows up the way you do.

I can give honesty. I can give consistency. I can give presence. I can give energy that comes from a real place. And still, I find myself standing alone, drained, wondering why it feels like no one else has the same capacity.

Back in November I felt it the most. I was struggling in a way that pressed heavy on my chest every single day. No one showed up. And when someone finally did, it felt like I was too much. Like the weight I carried made me a burden. Like the same grace I would have given instantly was somehow too much to ask for in return. That hurt more than the silence.

But I stop myself. Because honesty is who I am. It is my baseline. The exhaustion is not in being vulnerable. The exhaustion is in expecting my honesty to be matched. Expecting people to show up the way I do. Expecting me out of them.

I tried to convince myself that strength lives in vulnerability. That being open is always worth it. But right now I feel tired. I feel tired of pouring myself into empty wells. I feel tired of learning over and over that openness can be both a virtue and a vice. Some days it feels like lying or withholding would be easier. Less costly. Less draining.

And the truth is, no one owes me that. I know this. But it does not stop the sting when they fall short.

So I remind myself: I do not owe anyone the polished version of me. I do not owe anyone the easy, half-present version either. What I owe myself is rest. What I owe myself is boundaries. What I owe myself is the courage to keep being honest, even when it feels like I am screaming into a void.

Because at the end of the day, I would rather be tired from showing up as me than well rested from pretending to be someone else.

Your Turn

This week, think about the weight of showing up.

Where in your life do you feel like you are pouring into empty wells?

Have there been moments when you felt “too much” for others, even though you were just being yourself?

Write it out. Speak it out. Or sit with it in silence.

The weight is real, but you don’t have to carry it alone.

Shamelessly yours,

We’ve all heard the phrase “don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” Most of us will say we don’t do it. But if we take an honest inventory, we’ll see that in some way, we all do. I know I’m guilty of it.

Sometimes it isn’t obvious until you slow down and reflect. That’s when the patterns start to show up. For me, it hit with a particular situation I’m in right now. I realized how often I nurture the potential of one thing, a job, a relationship, a friendship, a dream, because I believe it can grow into something beautiful. I pour in time, energy, and loyalty, even when no one asked for it. It’s almost like a false sense of loyalty that ties me there, even though it’s not required or reciprocated.

The problem is, while I’m focused on that one basket, I neglect the others. And when that basket doesn’t hatch the way I hoped, I’m left drained. Sometimes I realize I was pouring into something that never even asked for my energy in the first place.

That’s why it’s important to pause and take inventory. How many baskets are you really tending? Which ones are bringing life and which ones are quietly draining it away? No one is forcing you to stay where you are. No one is demanding that loyalty. And sometimes, the thing we’re nurturing was never meant to be ours to give life to.

Just a thought that’s been sitting with me.

Your Turn

This week, reflect every night on your baskets. You can write, record, or just talk it out, whatever feels natural.

List three baskets you’re pouring into right now (a job, a relationship, a friendship, a habit, a dream).

Ask yourself: Am I nurturing something that never asked for it?

Notice if your answers shift from day to day.

I’ll be journaling through this too. Let’s see together what hatches and what doesn’t by next Sunday.

Shamelessly yours,