Tips for Succeeding as a Full-Time Freelancer

The start of my career as a full-time writer, ghostwriter and content creator was unintentional. I was 21 years old when I found myself simultaneously graduating from college and being my grandmother’s primary caretaker.

At the time, I felt like I had the rug pulled out from under me. Up until that point, I’d lived most of my adult life as if both roles were meant to be my future. I saw myself taking my resume and pivoting to a full-time role as a magazine editor, all the while still working to keep my grandma alive and healthy as she continued to grow older. 

A life as a freelancer was never in the plans. Yet, on the heels of a new chapter, it was the only part of my life that made sense. Taking on self-employment full time gave me the opportunity to grieve my grandmother’s loss at my own pace. The flexible schedule made tending to my mental health a possibility. The excitement of being responsible for bringing on new clients and working on projects I loved helped remind me that I had a say on where and how my life unfolded. 

A life as a freelancer was never in the plans.

Now, almost eight years since that first client, it’s easier to know what makes my life as a full-time writer and content creator fulfilling, less stressful and more manageable. Here are a few tips I have found to be helpful for finding success as a full-time freelancer:

Create your “A team.” 

I’ll start with the lesson that I’ve had to learn time and time again: schedule intentional time to workshop or to simply chat with people who are on similar paths. You will never regret having a mastermind group of people who just “get it.”

These people will understand the ins and outs of trying to grow and scale your career. They get the nuances of figuring out contracts or negotiating rates. They get it. They support you, and they help you become better at your craft.

They get it. They support you, and they help you become better at your craft.

Whether you come from a traditional work environment where you were surrounded by coworkers or you have been a solo-preneur since day one, the freelance path can get lonely. Having a built-in support system helps keep you on track. 

Play to your strengths.

The best part about being a full-time freelancer is that you get to cater your work to play to your strengths. This also happens to be one of the hardest parts about being a freelancer. Oftentimes, we’re our own worst enemies and playing to our strengths turns into a hard task because we don’t believe we have any strengths to begin with.

Take some time at the beginning of every quarter (or month, especially at the beginning of your freelance career) to list on paper all your strengths, what you do well and when you work best. This will set you up for success. It will also give you a tangible reminder whenever you’re feeling down because of work. 

The best part about being a full-time freelancer is that you get to cater your work to play to your strengths. 

Build routines and skills.

A big mistake I made early on in my career was to focus solely on building routines. I am constantly working on my morning routine or on setting boundaries at home so that my work time is protected. While those routines have been beneficial and I recommend anyone who is self-employed to dedicate time to building them, it’s also important to pour into your skillset.

A gap is born the minute you go freelance because unlike those who work under a manager and are learning from higher ups, you are now (mostly) working solo. In order to fill that gap, build your skills by attending seminars, listening in on panels or participating in courses. 

Define success for yourself.

When you’re freelance, you choose whether you’ll inherit society’s definition of success or whether you’ll pave your own. Success used to mean solely climbing the corporate ladder. Now, however, it can mean whatever you want it to mean. Lately success for me as a self-employed individual has meant scaling my business so that I don’t have to exchange time for money in a 1:1 transactional way. I set goals based on what makes sense, both for my career and my life. 

Whether you call yourself a freelancer, self-employed, a solo-preneur or a small business owner, we’re all on the same path to pursuing a career that’s meant to wrap around our lives. It’s a good journey to be on!

What tricks or hacks have helped streamline your day-to-day as a freelancer? What advice would you give to someone who is new to self-employment?

Image via Tony Li, Darling Issue No. 17

LeAnn Rimes Leads With Vulnerability in Second Season of…

“Real Women, Real Work” is a Darling series about everyday women who work in various fields including business, entertainment, science and education. We want to get to know the WHY behind their WHAT and get an inside look into different industries.

LeAnn Rimes is known for her success as a Grammy-award winning singer, songwriter and actress, but with the launch of the second season of her mental wellness and wholeness podcast, “Wholly Human,” she is now also a leader in the mental health advocacy space.

Following up on the success of the first season of the iHeartRadio podcast, which reached #2 on iTunes Health & Fitness chart and in the Top 35 overall for podcasts worldwide, LeAnn continues to explore the wellness space in the second season of the acclaimed podcast. Ranging from topics such as anxiety, neuroscience, spirituality and the chatter in the mind, LeAnn leads listeners in honest conversations with experts to provide practical tools for their own wellness journeys.

More than ever, LeAnn is dedicated to using her voice and her celebrity to uplift others by removing the shame surrounding mental health. As she celebrates her 25th anniversary as a recording artist, LeAnn will continue her country-wide tour, and in early fall, will release her next studio album, “God’s Work.”

Darling got to sit down with LeAnn to discuss the second season of her podcast, which debuts today, as well as the journey that led to her upcoming album. 

LeAnn, you are a singer, actress, author and now podcast host. When you were a kid, what did you imagine you’d be when you grew up?

As a child, I wanted to perform. I loved to entertain. I loved to sing. I remember when I was little I either wanted to be a singer, psychiatrist or the first female professional softball player. The singing panned out way more than the other things. I remember when I was young telling my mom that I wanted people to know my name. Everybody would know my name no matter where they lived. So I think I’ve done fairly well. 

I’d also say the past year and a half has allowed me to diversify in a lot of ways. There are gifts through this pandemic. It’s allowed me to play in different areas where I didn’t know if I would have the time before. I have been on tour since I was 13.

At the beginning of 2020, I was talking to a friend, and I had all these ideas for a new record and a podcast. All of the sudden, I had plenty of time to create all these things. The pandemic really has allowed me to diversify and play in areas where I wanted to play but perhaps there was fear. This past year and a half has really been about expanding into other places and beautiful crevices of myself that I have not yet explored. It’s been really exciting.

This past year and a half has really been about expanding into other places and beautiful crevices of myself that I have not yet explored. 

You were catapulted into the spotlight at a really young age. At 13, you were a country music star. How did you deal with the pressure?

In one word, denial. Honestly. We just celebrated 25 years since my first single and album. I look back and I recognize how much denial I had to go through in order to continue to do the work that I was doing. It was always about forward movement and not stopping.

During this down time during COVID, I’ve been off the performance train for 16 months. It’s hard to get back on. It’s given me an opportunity to recognize how unhealthy some of my life was. My nervous system has been stunned since I was a child. In 2020, it was really uncomfortable to have so much down time because my nervous system was wound up. It has been eye opening to reflect after 25 years and to recognize the ways in which I had to suppress and deny in order to survive.

As a public figure, people might assume you don’t have struggles with finding your voice, fear or feelings of depression. What have been the biggest stereotypes or assumptions you’ve had to overcome?

I think there’s a big assumption—that I am not human actually. We have spent many years as a society, not just with celebrities but with ourselves, shoving down our humanity and presenting a one-dimensional version of ourselves to everyone else. I think we are now finally stripping that back and we are being able to meet one another in our full humanity. 

People look at anyone in the spotlight and think they have everything. They ask: Why would they be upset? We always think that having things equals happiness or that it would get you out of some level of pain. On many levels, that is not true. 

Having so many opinions and projections, as a celebrity you really are projected on by thousands and millions of people. I joked the other day with a friend that the fact that I know who the hell I am outside of what people have projected on me is a miracle. I think we are breaking down a lot of stigmas right now.

I am happy to be on the forefront of that and tear down the stereotypes and shame around mental health. I’m honored to allow people to have their experiences fully and not hide parts of themselves.

I am happy to be on the forefront of that and tear down the stereotypes and shame around mental health.

One of your newest projects is your podcast, “Wholly Human with LeAnn Rimes.” Can you tell me a little bit about the backstory of why you started it?

My whole journey has been about collecting fragmentations of myself and bringing them back into wholeness. It’s a bit of a play on being incredibly human and the souls that we are. I wanted to create a place to connect with people on a human level. 

With me being a public figure, people forget that I am human. There have been so many projections upon my story by the media and people. This is another avenue to be even more open about it and share what I am going through and use my celebrity and my name. It’s been about sharing my journey of expanding into a fuller version of myself and taking people along that ride so that they have the opportunity to do the same. 

We are talking about things I never would have thought I would talk about in a million years. People are connecting with it, and that’s been so beautiful. Hearing the stories of how this has helped listeners deepen their own paths has made me really happy because that was my intention.

On the podcast, what are some common roadblocks you’ve found that hinder our wholeness?

One of our biggest roadblocks is our own voice in our heads. The bully that we think is true and isn’t 99 percent of the time.

It’s so common to see all the different ways in which we have survived, all of our survival mechanisms from an early age. We fed off the world around us. From the time we are born until we are 6 or 7 years old, we basically are carbon copies of our environment. It really is about retraining ourselves and our thoughts. Our programming all plays into who we think we are. It’s about unwinding who we think we are and discovering who we really are.

It really is about retraining ourselves and our thoughts…. It’s about unwinding who we think we are and discovering who we really are.

The second season of the podcast is releasing today! What can listeners look forward to?

I am definitely more comfortable with the podcast experience and hosting. We deal with everything from anxiety to the chatter of the mind to the space of the heart and love. Every podcast guest this season is so different from experts on neuroscience to spirituality. We really have dug in further this season and bring people some really great information. 

Everyone’s healing journey is so different. The hope is that the podcast is just a guide. We give them some helpful and tangible things to play with. We are all scientists, and we are also science experiments. So we have to play and see what works for us.

You have a new album releasing this fall called “God’s Work.” What inspired this album?

It is really incredible and inspired from a very spiritual place. I look at it as an extension of the chant record I released in 2020 in a lot of ways but in full musical form. 

I speak truth on this record that scares me. It scared me to write. It scared me to perform, and that’s exciting because I know I’m pushing a boundary for myself and probably a lot of people too. I don’t hold back. I am so proud of this album. 

I know I’m pushing a boundary for myself and probably a lot of people too.

I hope that it helps support people in their awakening. I am creating music to support the awakening and the moment of time that we are in. It’s been a really exciting album to make. 

How would you describe the sound? How is it unique from previous albums?

I like to call it “World-acana” because it has an Americana vibe, but it has a lot of world groups. I love rhythm. There’s something about rhythm that moves me. Drums move me. So we started off playing with rhythms and kind of built it out from there. 

I feel like every album of mine is so different. I have always been one to play. I love music and creating it. There’s a real message that I’m sending with this album. I think that it’s a call to action for a lot of people, a wake up call. It’s been a world expression that I feel called to include.

If you had to pick, what would be your favorite song on the album? What about a close second?

Now that’s like choosing your favorite child. There’s a song called “The Wild” that probably is my favorite song on the record so far. It’s my favorite expression of something new of mine.  It scared the shit out of me when I wrote it. What came out was so true, honest and raw.

There were five incarnations of this song. Even when I went in to cut a scratch vocal, I felt like it wasn’t right. So I sent everyone out of the room, and I ended up finding this really cool hook to the song. I felt like I really let out the wild in me. Then, I knew that the song was complete, but it felt like serious birth pains. I felt like I was birthing a truth for myself and so many women when I recorded the song. I am really proud of that song and how I trusted the process.  

What advice would you give the young woman struggling to find her voice or perhaps who feels stuck?

Trusting the process is so important. Know that where you are is not where you will end up. It’s not the end. It’s just a momentary stop on your journey. 

The more we resist the thing that is showing up for us in the moment, the longer it persists. When we let things in, we become free because we give ourselves and that moment of our lives space to fully express themselves.

The feelings of being stuck are only momentary. Trust your heart and listen to what you feel. I don’t think there’s a wrong answer. We are here to learn. It’s all about the journey.

Know that where you are is not where you will end up. It’s not the end. It’s just a momentary stop on your journey. 

Knowing what you know now, what words of wisdom would you give to your younger self?

Keep a sense of self. I don’t even know if I had a sense of self back then. I think I did have one but then opinions, projections and that programming gets put on us from the outside world. Trust yourself. I don’t think anyone knows better than you.

To keep up to date with LeAnn, follow her on Instagram and listen to the second season of her podcast “Wholly Human.” To find out more, visit her website.

Images via Norman Seeff

How to Sit in the Discomfort of ‘the Middle’

I’ll be honest. It’s hard to write about the middle space when you’re in the white hot center of it. I can’t see the shore I left and the one I’m reaching for is still unknown.

A friend helped me find the name for this the other day. It’s called liminality—the tension between the no longer existent and the not yet existent. That’s it. That’s the tension causing the ache right below my breast bone. It’s a longing to know that I’ll get to the other side of this and that there will be somewhere different than where I am right now.

It’s a longing to know that I’ll get to the other side of this and that there will be somewhere different than where I am right now.

I always want to make it make sense. Like, right now. It’s a clumsy discipline to let the story of my days linger on the page without neat punctuation. I want to rip the pages out of the bind when the narrative grows messy, mundane and uncontrolled.

I stir things up in my mind, asking the same recursive questions: Why? When? How? Where? The answer back is almost always a question: What if the invitation written in the discomfort is to abide here?

Willing my way out of the discomfort of the unknown doesn’t protect me against reality. It only puts me at war with it. I’m tossed around by my unreliable feelings and run ragged with worry and languish. And the result? I’m not one inch closer to the certainty I’m hunting for.

Let me be OK with sitting in the discomfort of the between spaces and taking hold of the joy and meaningfulness threaded throughout life even in the liminality. That’s my prayer. Let me take in, be challenged, heal and enjoy the depths here.

Let me take in, be challenged, heal and enjoy the depths here.

Maybe the shallows near the shore aren’t for me. Maybe I was meant for the deep. Maybe it’s what’s meant for you too? We can be in the middle together, treading in the wonder, mystery and sacredness of it all—learning to trust the gentle sway of the sea as we’re afloat between unknown shores.

I’m believing this for us: The unknown is sacred, tender ground for our becoming. We can reject the inner critic that keeps telling us we’re stuck. This place only becomes stagnant when we do.

Author and priest Richard Rohr explains liminality as the place where all transformation takes place. He wrote, “The threshold is a good space where genuine newness can begin. Get there often and stay as long as you can by whatever means possible. It’s the realm where God can best get at us because our false certitudes are finally out of the way.”

So I will be. It’s by faith that I can remain right here and hang on hoping that there is something meant for my good, not out there, but here. Here. It’s here in the tension that the simple and the sacramental brush against each other in the most unexpected ways, both refining and softening. What an actual miracle that with an inhale we are steadied and with an exhale we are softened.

The unknown is sacred, tender ground for our becoming.

If the rhythmic question thumping through my body is “What if this is it?” I think the answer is “Yes. Yes, it is.” Right here in the middle, life is happening. It’s hard, intimate work to abide, but I want to be woven into the interior fabric of my life. I want to know how to just be well because I’ll miss it if I’m not careful. I don’t want to wait, rush it away, hoard all my joy for another season and place all my bets on a better one. This is it. These precious, ordinary days.

I just want to be good at relishing the unremarkable and do my best at just being in the beautiful tension. Even though I can’t see where I came from and I don’t know where I’ll land, I don’t think I’m lost. In this threshold, I’m becoming.

Is there an area of your life where you feel like you are “in the middle”? How have you learned how to “just be well” in the middle place?

Image via Janessa Spina Higgins

How to Cultivate Emotional Intimacy With Your Spouse

As I sat across the table from him, I wanted to know his thoughts, ones I hadn’t heard before. An undeniable thirst to know him better washed over me in the moment. Not even the perspiring glass of water in front of me could satisfy the feeling. 

What I was craving was emotional intimacy, which is defined as “a perception of closeness to another person that allows sharing of feelings, accompanied by expectations of understanding, affirmation and demonstrations of caring.” The longer I have been married, the more I have come to value emotional intimacy as a tool to know my husband better and to be truly seen and known by him. In our culture of hustle and busyness, this could not be more important.

Here are a few ways I have learned to cultivate emotional intimacy in relationships:

Get creative in conversation.  

There’s something about getting outside of the house and looking the man I love in the eyes that sparks a sense of that first date fondness. In an effort to recreate those early moments, I began asking him “what if” scenarios.  

What if you had to have a job that was dangerous? What would you choose? What if you had to live on an island? Where would you live? If you could only change one thing at your current job, what would it be? 

Similar to dreaming up make-believe worlds as a child, I created scenarios that took my husband to a state of imagination and daydreaming. Those abstract questions sparked conversations that related to our current lives, our ever-developing feelings for each other and our future. By speaking my seemingly odd trains of thoughts into existence, it created emotional intimacy with my otherwise quiet-natured partner. It opened the door for laughter, connection and ultimately, reinforcement of our relationship. 

It opened the door for laughter, connection and ultimately, reinforcement of our relationship. 

Lean into their interests.

When you’re no longer in the early stages of a relationship, you have to get crafty when it comes to discovering new things about your partner. Sometimes, I feel like I couldn’t possibly find out anything I don’t already know about my husband, but he continues to surprise me.

When I give my spouse my full attention as he tells me something he’s discovered, it creates another avenue for emotional connection. He could share anything from a new band, a YouTube show or an author who he has unexpectedly unearthed. Ironically, he typically picks times to reveal these things whenever I’m busy, but what I’ve noticed is that when I put aside what I’m doing and lean into a conversation, he feels seen and heard. His excitement only grows. 

What I’ve noticed is that when I put aside what I’m doing and lean into a conversation, he feels seen and heard.

When I’m at work the next day, if I listen to the song he’s become obsessed with or read an article about an author he loves, I have something to “report back” when we come together for dinner that night. It shows that I’ve taken the time to care for his interests, even if they are not my interests. He does the same for me. It takes a little work on both of our parts since we have vastly different tastes, but the work makes us feel well-rounded in our relationship. 

Take time away from your devices and connect through intentional dialogue.

Most weekday evenings, my husband and I sit down on our living room couch, exhausted after everything we’ve done that day. We binge-watch our favorite shows, and after an hour or so, we go to bed. It hit me, as we were turning out the lights one night, that while we sit together almost every day and while we’re close in proximity, our conversations are minimal.

Our dinners are pretty quick with small talk about our days. Then, it’s on to the next thing until we can’t possibly get anything else done that day and collapse together on the couch. 

Recently, we’ve taken this into account and instead of zoning out (which is totally acceptable to do occasionally), we lie next to each other rather than at opposite ends of the couch. We lie in silence and let whatever thoughts that are top-of-mind surface. We have intentional talks in these quiet moments, making them some of my favorite times. When the silence is broken, it’s only because one of us is telling the other what we observe in them—the good, the areas of needed growth, the unique talents, the beautiful truths and ultimately, the reasons our love grows for the other daily. 

We have intentional talks in these quiet moments, making them some of my favorite times.

When my head hits the pillow on nights like this, my emotional tank overflows. If I haven’t connected with my favorite person in the entire world on any particular day, it hurts my inner being. It’s so easy for us to fall into our daily routines that we don’t realize the damage until it begins to hurt.

Throughout the span of our marriage, we have both intentionally sought connection. Because of this, we now can quickly discern when it’s been too long since we’ve had a night of talking and getting to know each other again. While our mind-numbing TV binging habit can be fun at times, we consciously choose to take a few nights away from the screen. We intentionally choose to rekindle our love for one another. 

If your emotional tank is running on empty in your relationships, it is possible to cultivate emotional intimacy. It requires effort, energy and a little TLC. You and your partner’s relationship will only be better for it!

How do you and your partner cultivate emotional intimacy? What, if anything, might be getting in the way of you connecting on a deeper level?

Image via Prakash Shroff, Darling Issue No. 17

Transition: How to Leave a Good Thing Gracefully

Ever since I was a kid, I longed for adulthood. As a little girl, I politely declined swinging on the monkey bars with the other kindergarteners, opting to converse with the teachers. I played “school” with my dolls, imagining what it would be like to call the shots—to teach instead of being taught. In middle school, I wore blazers and a sleek bob. 

Freedom dangled before me as my older siblings crossed each threshold ahead of me: staying home alone, driver’s licenses, extended curfews. Then, the ultimate mark of adulthood finally came: college. The place where tastes of high school freedom and responsibility tripled overnight. My siblings packed their suitcases and left behind rooms filled with their childhood memorabilia, and I waited, very impatiently, to grow up too.

I waited, very impatiently, to grow up too.

For me, high school was four years of watching the clock, my foot tapping an anticipatory rhythm on the floor, while waiting for the final bell that signaled the start of adulthood. I flipped  through many chapters of my life like I was cramming for a reading quiz—skimming for the big picture that’ll get me to the ending.

Then, college came. I loaded whatever would fit into my mom’s Jeep Wrangler and trekked 22 hours across the country to adulthood. I exhaled and four years raced by.

Throughout each year of college I felt I was becoming someone dramatically different—someone who was more  of myself. The freedom and responsibility that once glittered in my dreams was now reality, and it was just as I hoped. For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to love where my feet were planted, to build roots and press into my reality. For the first time in my life, I stopped trying to read ahead to the end of the book. 

For the first time in my life, I stopped trying to read ahead to the end of the book. 

My senior year of college came in the middle of pandemic uncertainty. After a spring semester spent in lockdown and a quarantine summer, fall was a whirlwind of reunions. However, as the calendar days slipped away and the job search began, I was once again confronted with growing up. I’d always welcomed transition eagerly, deeming it a stepping stone to something greater. But when the fall semester ended, a series of lasts began, and I found myself desperately trying to pump the brakes.

I’d spent 22 years wishing away my youth. Why was I now struggling to move on?

It dawned on me that this was the first time that the next season didn’t sound better than what I had at that moment. I was living in what felt like a hundred answered prayers; the idea of leaving was gutting. It felt almost disloyal to move on. Yet, my college expiration date was rapidly approaching.

Whether you’re graduating from high school or college, changing jobs, entering motherhood or marriage, transition is inevitable. I have a lot to learn and ample space for growth, but there are three lessons that have served me well as I have navigated transition.

Grieving a season of life is normal and healthy.

Even if you feel ready for what’s next, moving on means leaving something behind. It is natural for a sense of loss to linger as you transition. Process through the good and bad of the season you’re leaving and allow it to take up proper space as a chapter of your life. Let tears wet your cheeks and friends sit by your side.

If leaving something is hard, it means that it was important to you.

I have said this about every season of my life: gratitude changes things. Instead of being resentful that a monumental season of life is coming to a close, recognize what a privilege it was to experience it. Take time to reflect on how you grew, the relationships you built and celebrate the person you are at the end of it all. 

Instead of being resentful that a monumental season of life is coming to a close, recognize what a privilege it was to experience it.

Choose to see abundance instead of scarcity. 

I have experienced life stages I couldn’t wait to leave and ones I wished would last forever. In both, I struggled with a scarcity mindset where I believed goodness (contentment, excitement, joy and growth) existed only in small increments in specific settings. However, the reality is that it can exist in every season. Trust that a new life stage will bring renewed perspective and unique gifts. They always do.

A lot of my life was spent waiting for the perfect combination of settings, friends and age to create my idea of an “ideal life.” As I reflect on college, I realize it was less about a calculated synergy and more about contentment. I have learned to find a reason to love every season—to show up both when life seems thrilling and when it feels impossible. To keep counting answered prayers and investing in the people in front of me. I have learned to balance profuse contentment for the here and now with anticipatory excitement for what’s to come.

Here’s to the beautiful reality of a life full of growth. May we have the courage to keep climbing and the wisdom to grab a hand along the way. 

Have you ever grieved a season of life coming to an end? How have you learned to embrace change?

Image via Sarah Kehoe, Darling Issue No. 16

Darling Letters: How to Take Up Space

We are bringing “Darling Letters” from your inbox to the blog! We love the art of letter writing and believe it helps build authentic community. Our editors and contributors have thoughtfully written encouraging letters to cut through the busyness and speak straight to your heart.

I can’t remember the exact moment I realized something wasn’t right—that the “same old, same old” wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Up until that point in my life, I felt confined. So I took a hard look at myself in the mirror and started the work of asking myself why.

What I discovered was that no one was confining me but me. In a subconscious attempt to protect myself from the disapproval of others, I put my voice and my opinions in a box of limitations. In this metaphorical box, who I was wouldn’t rock the boat and I couldn’t step on any toes.

What I discovered was that no one was confining me but me.

It took me years of self-discovery and growing pains to realize that I was living for the approval and applause of others and that the fear of not receiving it caused me to play the role of a lesser version of myself. For a while, this worked for me.

Yet, as I’ve matured, I’ve grown out of the box of playing small for other people. Now, that box of limitations is not large enough for me to fit in and living inside it is no longer sustainable for the healthier, more whole version of myself that I am today.

So I got out. I’m stretching my arms. I’m using my voice. I’m learning to speak up for myself and say what I think and what I want. I’m learning to take up every bit of space I’ve been given, and it feels good.

I’m stretching my arms. I’m using my voice. I’m learning to speak up for myself.

Let’s step out of the tight spaces where we have confined and limited ourselves. Everything about you—your thoughts and your opinions—is valuable and worthy of being seen and heard. There is room for you to be the most true and authentic version of yourself.

Sincerely,
Starla Gatson, the Darling family

Have you ever felt the need to play small for other people? In what practical way, can you start taking up space in your life?

Image via Koury Angelo, Darling Issue No. 11

Independence Day and the Ongoing Road to Freedom

Fireworks exploding dimly
Colors splashing silently
Against the midnight blue sky
I stay inside heart broken and awry

I want to celebrate you today—I do
Even if you haven’t always loved me too
Celebration for liberation I cannot feel
For I need space within myself to heal

Land of the free, home of the brave
Oh land of my heart, the blood you gave
To tear away and become your own
The victory won to now stand alone

I love my country: yes, I do
I am proud to have come from you
With your imperfections I am wrestling
With all that is not yet free I am reckoning

I wrestle so I can find truth’s acceptance
Then we can move forward in repentance
Both celebrate the birth of our nation in 1776
And commit to work on what still must be fixed

May we continue to push for the promises
Of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
For all humankind created equal and free
From colonies to one nation we overcame tyranny

Until all experience the same liberation others do
It is growth and change we must pursue
As we wish each other a happy fourth of July
May we commit to help every American be able to fly

To honor all who have fought for our nation, we persevere:
For respect for each other, we fight
For unity with one another, we fight
For liberty and justice for all, we fight

This time, I’ll step outside to look up at the sky
A sparkler in hand to enjoy the festivities I’ll try
To sing a new anthem: I am proud to be an American
This is my country to shape and to liberate is my inheritance

What injustice have you seen in your corner of the world? How can you be an advocate for people or groups of people who are disenfranchised or overlooked?

Image via Raisa Zwart Photography

What My Children Have Taught Me About Courage

Growing up, I thought that having courage meant doing big, daring and heroic things. I thought it was the kind of things that you watch superheroes do in movies. Yet, the older I get and the longer I am a mother, the more I see that courage is in the small, often everyday choices we make that propel us forward. Courage is in the fabric of each choice to bravely choose your own voice, believe in our worth, stand up for others or to simply try again.

I have found that a common thread weaving through all of parenthood is teaching my kids to choose courage. Because in the movies, the superheroes don’t always look like they’re making a choice. However, in real life, courage is a choice and a constant series of choices made in small, everyday moments. Just like children, we can learn to choose courage daily too.

Courage is in the small, often everyday choices we make that propel us forward.

Here are a few things that my children have taught me about courage:

Choose your own voice.

As a parent, I found myself coaching my children on choosing and listening to their own voices as early as preschool. It’s a skill we often need in unexpected moments.

My daughter came home one day describing in distress how another girl in her class told her, “We don’t like that girl, right? You can’t like her.” Her little 4-year-old mind was working hard to reconcile someone who she identified as a friend not only speaking negatively about another friend, but asking her to choose sides. 

Have you ever been in that subtle moment as a grown-up when in a group of friends, at an office or even with extended family? Choosing your own voice is not always a big moment. It is often a quiet refusal to be incongruent with what you believe.

Choosing your own voice is not always a big moment. It is often a quiet refusal to be incongruent with what you believe.

We work on this in our house a lot. My other daughter, after being told on the playground by another child that there is a group of people God doesn’t love, turned to the girl and said, “Well that’s not true, but you can believe what you want.” She was able to hold onto her own thoughts and beliefs.

Believe in your worth.

“I believe in you, and I’m your biggest fan,” I told my son as he tried out for the soccer team. “No matter what happens we are so proud of you.” 

As adults, we don’t often have as many opportunities to “show our work” to the class, enter a talent show or go for the team. Childhood is full of these exciting and sometimes scary opportunities. Believing in your own worth is an essential part of going for anything and an essential part of picking yourself back up if it doesn’t go how you hoped.

Believing in your own worth is an essential part of going for anything and an essential part of picking yourself back up if it doesn’t go how you hoped. 

I have walked my kids through talent show rehearsals that went well—their little shaky knees walking up the stairs to the small stage in the school gym. Just as important, I hugged my kids as they cried and reminded them that their choice to be brave enough to try and the uniqueness of who they are is much more important than the outcome. 

Knowing our worth is what makes us brave to try. And knowing our worth helps us pick ourselves back up when it doesn’t go how we hoped. What might you try if you knew you were worthy either way?

Stand up for others.

When we drove home from a rally to stand in solidarity with the AAPI community against the growing number of hate crimes this year, my son asked me an insightful question on the way home, “Mom, what can I actually do everyday to help stop this?”

We talked about many options as a white family, including standing up for others in school when there are racist remarks said about or to any other child. I sincerely hoped as a mom this wouldn’t continue to happen, but I knew better. The next week, my son got a chance to practice what he learned as another boy in his class mocked Asian culture. It was a comment made between a few other kids, and in that moment, my son practiced the power of standing up for others. 

Using your voice for others in big ways is essential; however, the potential impact of taking a stand in any small moment that comes your way is a powerful act that can have huge ripple effects. How much more might you use your voice to stand up for others if you believed in the impact of every small moment?

Simply try again.

Sometimes, I feel like literally everything in childhood could be a lesson on trying again. Kids have not mastered anything quite yet. Everything they attempt is new to them at some point, even walking and talking. 

As adults, we lose often sight of this. We fear looking stupid, of being embarrassed or of failing. So we pin ourselves into smaller and smaller corners with little to no new experiences. In the last two years, I have had a child learning to skateboard, another learning to roller blade and still another learning to ride a bike. They fall and fall, over and over again. The only way forward is to simply try again. 

The only way forward is to simply try again. 

It isn’t fancy or complicated. It is just the only thing you can do to move forward. Trying again seems obvious when you fall off a skateboard, but what if we gave ourselves as adults the same permission to just try again when we fail? How many more things might we try?

If courage has felt like a big or far off thing to you, pull that big idea off the metaphorical movie screen and into your everyday life. Courage is a small, daily choice that we all can make.

What have you done today or yesterday that required some measure of courage? Knowing that courage is a choice, what might you choose to do tomorrow?

Image via Melanie Acevedo, Darling Issue No. 11

Darling Letters: On the Type of Leaders We Choose…

We are bringing “Darling Letters” from your inbox to the blog! We love the art of letter writing and believe it helps build authentic community. Our editors and contributors have thoughtfully written encouraging letters to cut through the busyness and speak straight to your heart.

In her novel “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” author J.K. Rowling wrote, “If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” 

Recently, on a hectic work day, I was reminded of these powerful words. As my email notifications pinged in the background, my stress levels piqued. Then, the moment happened. Someone on my team asked a question in an email chain about something that I had previously explained in detail, and I reacted instead of responding with patience. 

I reacted instead of responding with patience. 

I sent a quick and snippy, “Per my previous email…” You know that passive aggressive, easy response we send when we safely sit behind the comfort of our computer screens? She responded kindly with the necessary information, and instantly, I felt that little twinge in my heart say, “Oh shoot, I could have done better.”

The ball was in my court. I thought: What type of leader do I want to be? Will I be the person who is quick to apologize and who lifts up my team? Or will I be the prideful leader who is unrelenting and unwilling to show grace?

I knew what I wanted my answer to be. So I sent her a note thanking her for her hard work on the project and apologizing for being short with her in my previous email.

I’ve had my fair share of bad bosses—internship managers in NYC who sent me home crying, nonprofit leaders who micromanaged my every move and retail managers who made me carry all the weight. None of these are the type of leader or person I want to be. I want to roll up my sleeves and work side-by-side with my team. I want to champion them. I want to stay at the table to have the hard but necessary conversations for clarity. 

The measure of our leadership isn’t contingent upon how well we treat our superiors or those who have something to offer us. It’s based on how we treat our team, especially the ones who are a few steps behind us. Let’s roll up our sleeves and be leaders who lead from a place of humility and grace and watch how it transforms the workplace.

The measure of our leadership is based on how we treat our team, especially the ones who are a few steps behind us.

With hope,
Stephanie Taylor, Online Managing Editor

How would you describe your style of leadership? As leaders, how can we help foster healthy workplace culture?

Image via Ben Cope, Darling Issue No. 15

How To Navigate Seasons of Change

I think my aversion to change began when I was 17 years old. Before that age, I had everything under control or at least I felt like I did. I had a carefully thought-out roadmap for my life. If I just followed it and executed it, then I would arrive at my destination as planned—such understandably naïve thinking for a small town girl with big dreams. 

I remember sitting in my antique bedroom whose walls knew every daydream and nightmare the summer before college held. As sounds from the “Number One Station for Hip Hop and R&B” played in the background, my mind over-thought my plan for the next four years, only to be interrupted by the unmistakable rasp of Lyfe Jennings’s voice on the radio.

“There’s only two things in life that are constant. That’s change and change.”

I immediately turned off the radio. 

The song itself, titled “Never Never Land,” is actually about a man who finally embraces a mature love, but whatever. I didn’t care. That line triggered me, for whatever reason, and I’d heard enough. Perhaps, this natural reaction foreshadowed what was to come for me: a decade (and then some) worth of running from seasons of change. 

Before my mom died, I saw change as a series of manageable events that didn’t necessarily have to change the life trajectory of my life. I could control the effects and consequences of change. It was a selfish lens to view life through, but it worked at the time.   

At 18, my mom’s death introduced me to my first real season of change. I couldn’t control this—not the pain, not the way I experienced grief, nor the time it would take me to accept the reality that I would never see her or hear her voice again.

I couldn’t control this—not the pain, not the way I experienced grief, nor the time it would take me to accept the reality…

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control this. So, I ran. I pretended she was on an island with no access to mobile devices. When I felt called to rise to a challenge that I thought I wasn’t ready for, I ran in the opposite direction. When my mental health began to decline, I ran to the arms of the wrong people and to spaces that didn’t serve me. 

Eventually, my legs began to give. I had to ask myself, what good did running actually do? It offered a false sense of control, prolonged the inevitable pain that comes with healing and created unhealthy coping mechanisms. Running was fear disguised as control. At 29, faced with a new season of change characterized by loss and new beginnings, I decided to try something new. 

What good did running actually do? Running was fear disguised as control.

I paused. I felt. I listened. I moved with the current of change instead of fighting against it. I released control and opened myself to the effects of growth, pain and the joy of embracing change. At this very moment, I sit in a new bedroom, whose walls know my new nightmares and evolved daydreams, staring 30 right in her eyes and daring her to ask me that question. The one that I’ve avoided answering for all of my 20s. 

How do you navigate seasons of change? 

Now, I know that I don’t. But I’m human. So, I’ll say that I try my hardest not to navigate change. 

By definition, to navigate means “to operate or control the course of.” As hard as you may try—and believe me, I’ve tried—you cannot control seasons of change nor the residual effects. Not even the most carefully thought-out plan can equip you for where a season of change takes you mentally, physically and emotionally. 

You cannot control seasons of change nor the residual effects.

There is no right or wrong way to move through seasons of change. No one has the blueprint. We’re all figuring it out as we go, and what works for me may or may not work for you. However, trust yourself and the timing of your life. Let that be your guide. 

How have you learned to navigate seasons of change? How has running from change impacted you in the past?

Image via Judith Pavón Sayrach