Raspberry Iced M

None of the below will make it into a bio.

They won’t come up in icebreaking exercises or “get to know me” klatches.

There is no “fun fact” energy here.

And yet this is the stuff that actually makes me me.

1. I need a moment to settle into most things. New rooms. New conversations. New days. I don’t arrive fully formed. I need to warm up.
2. I function best when I know what to expect (and what is expected of me). It’s not about control, a thing of which I have often been accused (even by myself). But warnings help my nervous system stop scanning for danger, even in everyday-life-type circumstances. A cereal aisle. A church pew. A “We need to talk” text message.
3. I care about tone more than anything. What people mean matters more to me than how perfectly they say it. Delivery is everything. So is kindness.
4. I notice small shifts. Energy changes, mood changes, pace changes. It’s not drama. It is information I cannot unsee.
5. I function better when mornings are gentle. Abruptness sticks with me all day. Slow starts are like preventative care to me.
6. I need reassurance sometimes. Not constantly. Not desperately. But not disingenuously either. I need just enough to stay grounded.
7. I am steadier than I look. I feel deeply. But I don’t collapse, even when I want to. Having survived every terrible thing meant to destroy me (yes, even terrible situations I created for myself), God’s grace, I believe, has seen me through. He has given me the gift of resilience. And that resilience can be quiet.
8. I prefer honesty that isn’t harsh. The truth doesn’t need sharp edges to be real. Kindness does not dilute honesty.
9. I am more observant than expressive, at least at first. I listen more than I speak. That can sometimes be misread as disinterest. But it’s not. It’s just wading waters.
10. I am learning to trust that being “ordinary” is not a flaw. Granted, my career has developed itself into something pretty extraordinary. But the rest of my life is quiet. In fact, most people’s lives are small, repetitive and unremarkable. That doesn’t make my life, or yours, unimportant.

Closing thoughts – these traits aren’t exciting. They don’t sparkle. They’re structural.

They explain how I move through the world. What I need to feel safe. Why certain things matter to me more than others.

Unremarkable. But crucial.