On Gathering Perspective

I remember the first blog I wrote.

And I remember why I left the EPIC firm.

I knew to gain perspective required distance and to gain distance required a move.

And to move required risk.

But I am a risk taker.

And I am a true believe that growth only comes when we risks and get uncomfortable and keep moving forward.

From time to time I like to reflect back on the choices I made and on the people who have come and gone from my life, and I take stock: What did I learn? How did I grow? What opportunities came from struggles or tragedies or things that just felt very hard. As another year comes to a close, I reflect. I look back at the person who joined the Stritmatter firm in April 2021 and I barely recognize her. I took this job to challenge myself to be better. I am better. And I can continue to be better. I am so much better at this job because I joined people with the same mission and passion.

When I took this job, I was healing from a heartbreak. I healed, and I found myself. I found peace in the simple realization that I had been wrong— he wasn’t the love of my life. He had been there to teach a lesson, and fade into my past. I left him there. I took the time to know myself, heal myself, and grow myself. I liked being on my own because I liked myself. I am grateful for the experience that motivated me to take a leap.

At Christmastime 2022, I was quite content with my progress. I felt whole. And then I got a call: My dad had been found in the middle of the street, his bicycle beside him. He was not breathing. So I flew home to Arizona and sat by his bedside with my sisters. We were told my dad had almost no chance of recovery from what happened. That he suffered an anoxic brain injury and was showing no neurological response. The doctors told us after three days, he’d likely not wake up. We were stunned — my father was a lone wolf and adventurer who meticulously exercised and travelled and was simply always….there. And now we were going to have to let him go. I remember looking at my dad’s well-documented calendar, adorned with his favorite quotes about life. And I felt peace, because my dad didn’t aspire to live that life — he did live that life.

But on Christmas Eve my dad decided he had other plans than fading quietly away. And during his very last neurological evaluation before we removed his life support, his vital signs changed. On Christmas day, he woke up.

Although my sisters and I shared shifts at the hospital, I slept there alone. And although I was surrounded by support, it was the moment I realized, “I want to find my person.” I want to find the person who will be there next to me not just through the good, but through all that life throws at us. And I wanted my dad to be alive to meet that man.

Two weeks after he was admitted to the hospital, my dad walked out.

And I joined yet another dating app. And after a few days scrolling around, someone struck me. He had kind eyes. And I had a feeling.

I didn’t want kids. I made is 37 years successfully not having kids. I was proud of this achievement.

When we went on our first date, he dropped the bomb: He was a single dad raising daughters, just like my dad.

And my intuition said “take another leap.”

And so, I did.