Explore the Undefined Community Blog

In November 2024 I listened as my cousin eloquently eulogized my mother at her funeral. It was a lovely speech, but it was not my mother’s story. It was a curated version of her life. The life she lived on the outside, much of which was told to others in a distilled version. Moments before he started speaking, my uncle invited me to speak. I had long ago been unofficially designated both the family spokesperson and historian. I had eulogized my father decades before in a scen

beach with sand and greenery I’m a very sensitive person, and lately I’ve been really stressed out. I realized that the source of the stress has little to do with my life and more to do with the energy of others. At this point, my life is pretty peaceful. So why do I feel so overwhelmed? I’ve been thinking about how easily we can internalize the emotions, worries, frustrations, and problems of the people around us. Sometimes, without even realizing it, we begin carrying thing

Footprints on a beach. I’ve recently been thinking about legacy. Not in the egotistical sense of what will we be known for when we are no longer here, but in the sense of how we want to leave an imprint on people. I was walking on the beach looking at footprints. Footprints that would be washed away in no time. I thought about a recent conversation with a relative who told me about my great-grandparents. As I was listening, I thought to myself that I had absolutely no connect

Twenty-five years later, September 11 remains a day that asks us to pause and remember the people we lost. Twenty-five years is a long time, and yet for the families, friends, colleagues, and communities who lost someone that day, time doesn't make the loss disappear. It becomes part of the fabric of a life. The world moved forward, as it does, but the people who were taken that morning remain connected to that day in our collective memory. It is important that we remember th

painting of the universe You are exactly where you're supposed to be. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially because sometimes we have absolutely no idea why we are where we are. This morning I went to the dentist. Routine visit, until it wasn't. I got bad vibes and left. In the middle of the appointment. In the middle of a procedure. Something felt off. There was a sense that something wasn't right. And sometimes, that’s all you need to know. So I left and di

mountain range with road and trees in the forefront There’s a particular kind of person we’ve learned to recognize. They’re the first to comment on your news. They show up in your notifications with fire emojis and "so proud of you!!" and “this is EVERYTHING,” typed in the unmistakable dialect of public adoration. And then, the moment the audience disappears — the moment it’s just the two of you, no likes to rack up, no algorithm watching — they go radio silent. No text or ca

Ovarian cancer often stays in the shadows while mammograms and breast cancer awareness dominate conversations. Yet, this disease affects many women and deserves attention. After sharing my health journey over the past year, many people reached out to me privately, showing how important it is to talk openly about ovarian cancer. This post is not an announcement about a diagnosis but a call to be informed and proactive. Let's explore some crucial facts about ovarian cancer. Ana

In anticipation of the book launch on August 3, a few images from the book. Writing Undefined meant going back into some moments I hadn't looked at closely in years. The moments described in the book were largely captured from my mind's eye, but a select few memories are bolstered by photographs. If you've already pre-ordered the eBook, thank you. More to come... From Slow: Grandpa and me, at around age 3. Bubby and me at age 2, shortly before her death. Cautiously going down

My Grandma Anne (seated center, floral shirt and blazer) along with some of her siblings, their spouses and children (including my Grandpa Jack standing behind her and behind him, my father)

"I am not the words that tried to contain me. I am not the roles I played to stay safe. I am not the labels people gave me. I am Undefined." That line from the prologue of my memoir. It took me most of my life to actually believe it. For as long as I can remember, I was handed labels I never asked for: slow, smart, submissive, shy, black sheep, shameful, guilty, pretty, sensitive, helpless, good. Some were compliments. Some were corrections dressed up as compliments. But the

book on a beach I was at the beach recently doing exactly what I needed in that moment. I had my AirPods in, a book in my hands, and the sun warming me. I wasn't rushing anywhere. I was just enjoying the quiet. A few minutes later, a man walked over, introduced himself, and asked if I wanted to go into the water with him. I smiled and said, “No, thank you. Maybe next time.” He walked away. As I settled back into my book, I found myself wondering what story he might have told

waves on a shore

Me at age 4. I’m told that I did not speak until I was four years old. That’s not true, but that was the narrative. Maybe I didn’t speak when it was expected. But I spoke. People just didn’t seem to listen or truly hear or see me. My identity was decided for me at a young age. I was named before I was known. Who I was and who I should become. I was spoken about as if I was not in the room. Objectified, as if I was not real. I was being assigned roles for a life I ultimately

path in the wilderness This past week I had my first speaking engagement in nearly a year. I wish I could say I felt ready. The truth is that despite over-preparing, rehearsing, and obsessing over every detail, I still walked into the room feeling unsure of myself. I got there three hours early. Spoke with the audience so that I would understand the community that would be listening to me and (hopefully) gauge accordingly. Looked at the other speakers' beautiful slides, and f

image of a compass with the universe in the background As I walked out of my home a few weeks ago for my new-normal weekday routine, I was fixated on a thought: I hope I don’t run into a specific person. But then I thought to myself, why would this person be where I’m going? The concern made no sense. We traveled in different circles. We had no reason to cross paths. She doesn’t even live near me. Yet there I was, mentally rehearsing an encounter that existed only in my imagi

Sunrise

Sloth in a tropical tree. I have two speeds. Turbo and sloth. I realized that they both get me to the same result, at around the same time. Most notably, I bypassed a year of college, took two years off, and then bypassed a year of law school. Yet I graduated law school at the same age I would have had I gone straight through. That realization changed how I think about productivity, ambition, and the stories we tell ourselves about what it means to be "on track." We live in a

Hiking trail at sunset in a cloud forest. For a long time, I told myself I had strong boundaries. I have long been disciplined with my time. Selective about who I engage with. I thought I had drawn the line about what I would and wouldn’t tolerate. From the outside, and to myself, it looked like I had it figured out. But if I take a good look, what I really had was an organized system of avoidance. I didn’t call it that. I called it focus. I called it professionalism. I cal

There are a lot of directions you can go with when you’re building something new. Predictable. Safe. I didn’t want those. Instead, I chose the lotus flower. Why? Because the lotus doesn’t pretend that the mud isn’t there. It grows despite it. Not just that. It thrives off the mud. Each day it rises like a phoenix out of murky water. Conditions that would choke out most things. Not only that, but it also emerges untouched. Unaffected. Intact. Each morning it opens. Each night

Rainbow over a meadow I’ve had this paperweight on my desk for decades with an adage attributed to Winston Churchill, “When you’re going through hell, keep going.” I’ve often thought that sometimes difficult times are just something you get through. No commentary, you just get through them. I recently shared a traumatic experience with a friend. Recounted it in the course of catching up, not to ask for advice on how I should have dealt with this now-resolved issue. His respon