Got cake?

It’s my birthday week. Every year around now, I do two things:

1. Consume an absurd, questionably-illegal amount of sheet cake.
2. Reintroduce myself to... myself.

Because birthdays, for me, are this weird, wonderful little wormhole where Past Me and Future Me have a standoff in the mirror and ask Present Me: "So... who the hell are you becoming... and are you happy with her?"

And also: "Why is there frosting in your hair?"

More on that in a minute.

But first, a question I ask myself annually: Who have I let vote on the direction of my life... and who have I accidentally given a permanently endowed front row seat when they didn’t even deserve a folding chair in the wings?

The Sheet Cake Incident (a.k.a. Brand Clarity via Buttercream)

A few birthdays back, my publisher asked me for a presale launch video for Wonderhell.

He was expecting a serious video where I walked potential readers through the motivation behind the book, the research questions driving the book, and the outcomes one might assume by purchasing the book. So naturally, I:

• Threw on my Limitless yellow tank and white overalls
• Climbed onto my damn desk
• Grabbed an entire sheet cake
• Hit "Go Live"
• And shouted about ambition and burnout while shoving cake in my face like a toddler on a sugar bender

Yes. Really. Here’s the video.

One long-time friend commented, "This is SO PERFECTLY YOU."

Thirty seconds later, a newer friend—a fellow thought leader I trust, whose advice I routinely seek on everything from speaking gigs to strategy—texted: "Feels off brand. Unprofessional. You should take it down."

Here’s the kicker: I respected him. It came from love. He’s wise and thoughtful and sharp as hell.

But my gut said: Nah. This IS my brand.

Twenty-year-old me? Would’ve deleted it faster than you can say "cringe spiral."
Thirty-five-year-old me? Would’ve agonized for days.
Current me? "LOL, pass me another fork. Or don't. I got this."

Because here’s what birthdays really are: Not just a milestone. A litmus test. An audit of alignment. A sacred, frosting-coated review of the voices you let influence your life.

And most importantly:

• Who have you given a vote?
• Who have you given a voice?
• And does that person even deserve either?

I asked myself those questions. And then I ate another sheet cake the next year. In a pool. At a tropical resort. On a family vacation in Puerto Rico, USA (Big shout out to Bad Bunny for Sunday's Super Bowl Halftime Show, yo!). Because if you’re gonna be a brand, just like Bad Bunny, be an unforgettable one.

Will I do it again this weekend? You bet your buttercream I will. But you'll have to follow me on social to see that. (Links in the footer below.)

The Critique Olympics: Who Gets to Judge You, and Why?

What does this have to do with you? Let’s fast forward to another moment.

Last year, I sent an email where I bragged. About a client. And (the horrors!) about myself and the job I was proud to have done for that client.

Hundreds of you replied with your own victories. Big, small, gritty, glorious.

And then there was this one reply: "Can you stop sending emails about how great you are and how great we aren’t?"

Cue the record scratch.

Now, let’s break this down.

The sheet cake critique? Came from someone whose opinion I actively seek. Someone brilliant. Someone kind. Someone I trust. It was loving. But it wasn’t true. I clocked the voice, but I didn’t grant the vote.

The email critique? Came from a complete rando on the internet. No relationship. No care. No context. Also not true. That person doesn’t get a voice. Much less a vote.

This is where discernment becomes essential. Because when you let every voice become a vote, you build a life that isn’t yours. It’s a crowdsourced existence held together by sticky tape and twine and other people’s comfort zones and unsolicited opinions.

And it is everywhere. Just look at Amy Cuddy's recent piece about Lindsey Vonn’s comeback and the whiplash women get between being "inspirational" and "too much." From Inspiration to Condemnation is a must-read if you’ve ever felt like the world only loves you when you’re just the right amount of exceptional.

So here’s my three-part filter for next time someone decided you need their opinion:

1. Is it true?
2. Is it loving?
3. Is it from someone I respect?

If it checks all three, I humble myself and learn. If not? I channel my inner bouncer and escort that opinion off the premises.

So this week, in honor of the day I cannonballed into this world like a confetti-stuffed chaos grenade:

Here’s your permission slip: Take up too much space. Be the loudest, boldest, truest version of yourself. Brag on!

And while you’re at it? Review your critics. Who has earned a voice? Who has earned a vote? Who’s just shouting from the cheap seats, hoping you’ll dim your light to make them feel taller?

Show them the door. Politely. Or not. Your call.

The Birthday Check-In

If you're flying high right now? I’m throwing glitter at your jet stream. If you're duct-taped together with hope and caffeine? I see you. Keep going.

Birthdays and the whole "new year, new you" circus can feel like a lot. So here’s my invitation, as your slightly older, icing-covered, truth-telling internet friend: Check in on your heart, and give yourself grace to pivot.

What did you make it through this year that the Old You thought might just destroy you? And who are you—beautiful, complicated, fire-breathing YOU—becoming on the other side of that?

Hit reply. Tell me your bravest brag, your sneakiest win, or just how you’re doing. I read every single one. (Airplanes are my favorite reply vortex.)

The One Thing I Know to Be True This Week...

You are not too much. You are exquisitely, deliberately, magnificently you.

Confidence isn’t a reward for becoming someone else. It’s the byproduct of finally becoming fully, unapologetically, ferociously yourself.

So. Brag. Blaze. Be bold. And for the love of all things holy and buttercream, here is the thing I know to be true this week: It's high time you stop giving votes in your live to people who shouldn't even have voices.

Thanks for being here for another trip around the sun with me. Now… where’s that cake? 🍰

Can I Ask for a Birthday Present?

If you’ve ever dog-eared a page of Limitless or Wonderhell, quoted a line in a meeting, or forwarded a Hello Truesday because it said the thing you didn’t have words for… I have a tiny birthday request.

Would you:

Leave a quick review for Limitless and/or Wonderhell (wherever you bought it—Amazon, Goodreads, your favorite bookseller), or
Hit reply to this email and tell me how Hello Truesday has supported you, challenged you, or given you a needed kick in the pants?

Those reviews and replies are more than algorithms and “engagement”—they’re fuel. They tell publishers, event planners, and future readers that this work matters. And on this birthday, nothing would make me happier than knowing these words helped you become a bolder, louder, more unapologetic version of you.