No Face... No Case
a note on relatability
Do you remember the first time you smelled rain? Not just the dampness in the air, but the distinct, earthy scent that rolls in before the first drop falls. It probably didn’t register as something special the first time, or even the fifth. But one day, the awareness clicked.
How about your first conscious experience at the beach? The kind where you weren’t just there, but present—feeling the sand shift beneath your feet, tasting the salt on your lips, letting the roar of the waves settle into your bones. I didn’t have that moment until I was around 15. My parents, ever cautious, worried about the sea’s pull—rightfully so, as it had taken more than a few lives where I grew up.
Fast forward five years, and I found myself living three minutes from the ocean for an entire year. Yet somehow, I never truly experienced it—never let it wash over me—until last December. That was the day the ocean decided it wanted my flip-flops and Kindle. One moment, I was lost in thought, the next, I was in a frantic game of tug-of-war with the tide. The waves won, but I like to think I earned their respect.
I bring up rain and the sea because a book I’ve been reading made me realize something: We struggle to relate to things that don’t exist as we do. If something lacks a face, eyes, or form that mirrors ours, we acknowledge it only in passing—until we have the encounter. Unfortunately, most of us are too distracted, too loud, too busy, to notice when that moment comes.
The Devil in the Details
Accountability is a tricky thing. We all claim to want growth, but when someone points out what needs improving, we get caught up in their tone or delivery. We swear up and down that we’re open to change, but deep down, are we just a little embarrassed by the awareness? Or is it something deeper—some form of learned helplessness?
They say “the devil is in the details,” and I think that devil is where the transformation hides. The uncomfortable truths. The disciplined diet. The awkward conversations. The firm, necessary emails. The ‘no’ that sets a boundary. The acceptance of things we cannot change. The choice to delay gratification for something greater. That’s where the work is. That’s where we evolve.
A Wake-Up Call Over Brunch
Today, I had an unexpected epiphany over brunch. My friend and I sat across from a couple who barely spoke to each other for over an hour. At first, it was just an observation, a passing curiosity. But then my friend turned to me and read me the riot act on choosing a life partner. She pointed out the gaps in a situation I hadn’t even considered, and as she spoke, I saw my own blind spots reflected in her words.
Then she did something remarkable—she reminded me of the moments that had brought out the best in me. And suddenly, everything clicked. The gaps. The lessons. The understanding of why certain things in my life had played out the way they did.
For the first time in a while, I felt truly seen. And in that moment, I gained a deeper appreciation for my friends—their wisdom, their honesty, their ability to hold up a mirror when I need it most. In learning more about them, I’m learning more about myself.
And honestly? That’s some wonderful stuff.
Things I enjoyed…
learning how to swim
planning my birthday
catching up with the girls
A perceived shallow need I have being validated…
The “They are Vaping” Episode of I said What I said Podcast