For the past several months, I’ve been writing blog articles for a website run by a guy I’ve come to respect and view as a mentor. His name is Gary Collins, and I stumbled across his podcast (The Simple Life with Gary Collins) a few years ago when I was researching ways to simplify and balance my life. After listening to several episodes, I realized Gary and I had very similar backgrounds, so I was inspired by what he had to say and the path he has taken to create a kick ass life for himself. I ended up doing a coaching session with Gary last year, and it was an instrumental step in me changing the course of my own life path. If you haven’t heard of “The Simple Life,” Gary teaches people how to achieve optimal health, financial freedom, and find their life purpose, so if you’re interested in that kind of stuff, go check out his website at https://thesimplelifenow.com. 

Yes, I’m aware that so far this sounds like an infomercial testimonial for Gary Collins, but I promise he has no vested interest in me writing this, and as much as I wish I was getting paid to promote his website and podcast, I’m definitely not. The reason I’m bringing all of this up is because one of other cool things Gary does is support writers like me by giving us a forum to express our opinions and share our “simple life” experiences on his blog page. It was having this opportunity to write website articles that reignited my love of creative writing and gave me the courage to openly express my views and opinions in a public arena. 

Writing has always been a passion for me, ever since I won an award at my local library for creating a handwritten bookmark when I was 8 years old. It was a jaunty little poem that read: “You’re never too old to read a book. Open one up and take a look. At the Glendale Public Library.” Towards the bottom of the bookmark, I had drawn a pair of eyes wearing glasses, peering into an open book. Sure, it’s not exactly Shakespeare (or even written in complete sentences), but it was the first contest I’d ever won, and for a shy, nerdy 8-year old girl with very few friends, it was a big fucking deal, and I was pretty damn proud of myself. 

By the time I reached high school, I had moved on from designing cute bookmarks and was instead filling notebook after notebook with depressing poetry about death and vampires (I went through a lengthy goth phase…). I also wrote numerous short stories, most of which shared the common themes of being either dark and morose or disturbingly twisted (again, the goth thing…). I recall spending much of AP French class passing wild fictional tales back and forth with my friend, Diana, instead of paying attention to verb conjugations. 

In college, I majored in English, thinking it would be the easy road to a degree since I loved to read and write (plus, I really sucked at math). I had always gotten straight A’s on any written assignment during high school, so I naturally assumed I’d immediately excel when I went to university. Not so. On my first college paper, I received a C-, and the entire essay was covered in red ink. I was fucking devastated. How could the professor not see how talented I was?? Welcome to the real world, kid… or, at least as “real world” as college was back in the 1990’s before everyone went completely woke. I’m pretty sure that most of the classic novels which were required reading at the time have since been banned for lack of inclusivity, toxic masculinity, and white privilege. But I digress… I might have gone home and cried about my grade for an hour or so, but I quickly snapped out of it. There was no fucking way I was going to be a C student, so I buckled down and focused on developing and honing my writing skills for the next couple of years. By the time I graduated, I felt ready to take on world with a pen. 

However, when I entered the workforce after college, my creativity started to decline. I still indulged in writing little fictional stories on occasion, usually in the form of some kind of anonymous passive aggressive notes I would leave for my coworkers, detailing my disappointment about a lunch being stolen from the communal refrigerator or specialty items missing from the supply room. Stupid? Sure, but I was also bored and easily entertained watching people trying to figure out who was stealing food and supplies that never existed in the first place. After a few years in corporate America, I made the decision to transition from the private sector to a government job, and my creativity basically disappeared altogether. Instead of writing fictional stories and poems, I spent the next 25 years writing very dry investigative and safety inspection reports. Snooze… but hey, it was still writing, and even with boring technical reports, I wrote the shit out of them and made them shine. 

My point is, I fucking love to write, and it’s something I’ve been doing most of my life. I’ve just never shared my writing in a public forum until I was given the opportunity to write for “The Simple Life” website. Whenever one of my articles is published, I send the link out to a handful of friends and family, and the feedback I receive is always positive. I’m continually being told I should write a book or start a blog, and although I appreciate the compliments and recognition, I usually blow off these suggestions as nothing more than well-intentioned niceties and ego-stroking. I will admit I’ve tossed around the idea of writing a blog over the past few months, but I always find an excuse to procrastinate on actually doing anything about it. If I’m being honest with myself, that procrastination is largely based in self-doubt about my writing being of any interest to anyone other than my loyal friends and family fan club.

There is a section for comments on Gary’s blog page, but I’ve never seen a single remark posted in relation to any of the articles I’ve written, despite their sensational wit and occasionally charming inflammatory nature. So, I’ve concluded that nobody really gives a shit. Yet, I keep on writing more articles… Why? Because, as I said above, I fucking love to write, and it lights my soul on fire. On an average night, I’ll be yawning and ready for sleep by 8:00 p.m., but when I’m focused on writing an article, I easily lose track of time, and I have to force myself to get up from the computer and go to bed. I lay there, my mind excitedly racing with thoughts I want to put on paper, and I find myself reaching for my phone several times to jot down notes and ideas. This typically goes on for at least an hour or two before I can fall asleep.

Having the opportunity to write website articles has been like a reawakening for me. For years, I believed I had lost my passion and drive for writing anything that wasn’t a sterile investigative report, and I chose to focus solely on professional writing projects. Whenever something creative would come up for me, I’d continually push it down over and over until it finally stopped resurfacing. However, my life has changed drastically over the past year, and I’ve finally woken the fuck up and decided to speak my truth. With each article that I write, I’ve become more and more sure that this is the path I’m meant to be on. I strongly believe my purpose in life is to use my writing as a tool to share my thoughts and experiences as a means to inspire people to stand up for their beliefs and live their best authentic lives.

Before you roll your eyes and think, “Oh geez, another one of those 40-something chicks who’s having a midlife crisis and on a self-reflection journey,” stick with me here while I explain how I arrived at this whole blog thing and why you might be interested in reading my shit. 

Throughout my life, I’ve had a multitude of jobs and careers, and I’m about to take you down the path of twists and turns that make up my work history. Yes, I know this might seem like I’m going completely off topic, but like I said, stay with me on this because it’s all relative. The culmination of my work and life experiences is the driving force behind why I’ve developed the beliefs I feel compelled to share, and why I’m choosing to start this blog.

So, buckle up, relax, and enjoy the ride. The journey down this path might seem a bit long-winded (okay, it’s actually really fucking long-winded), but as my mom used to say, our destination is “just around the bend,” even though that was always total bullshit, and it would usually take a fucking hour to get where we were going. Regardless, keep reading. It will all make sense. If you’re really in that much of a hurry to get back to scrolling TikTok or Instagram, I guess you can just skip ahead to the end, but if that’s your priority, you’re probably not the right audience for this blog anyway. So, here we go… 

I grew up in sunny Southern California, the land of milk and honey and broken dreams. Like most teenagers in the 1980’s, I worked various gigs at the mall. I sold expensive travel accessories and massage chairs at Brookstone, science kits and educational crap at Natural Wonders, and giant plush stuffed animals to parents with screaming children at Toys International (my most short-lived job ever).

After a couple years, I concluded retail wasn’t for me, and I took a job working the full-service island at a gas station (back in the good old days when those existed), cleaning windows, changing flat tires, and pumping gas. I decided I wanted to be a mechanic, even though I wasn’t remotely mechanically inclined, and I knew jack shit about cars. I started hanging out by the mechanic bay at work, learning what I could, and within a year I had the opportunity to become part of a pit crew for a top alcohol drag racing team. I did that for a few years during college, traveling across the country to various NHRA races, feeling like a badass because I could fix a broken engine block, even though all I really did was turn a few wrenches and look cute flaunting my highly coveted “Restricted Area Access” badge on a lanyard around my neck. 

During my college years, I also worked at a sailboat marina, mostly doing grunt work like cleaning boats and repairing cushions, filing paperwork in the office, and helping rescue people with less than stellar sailing skills who ended up stranded in the San Francisco Bay. Oddly enough, I was completely terrified of the ocean and had a very significant fear of sharks. This fear was only further heightened when I learned there are over 11 different species of sharks living in the San Francisco Bay – including great whites, blue sharks and Sevengill sharks, which are reportedly one of the most aggressive and dangerous sharks known to attack humans. Whenever a group of us would go out sailing, I would spend the entire time focused on the boat’s depth meter, panicking every time the numbers changed for more than a few seconds. I was positive there was a huge fucking shark swimming directly under the boat, and it was going to surface and swallow us whole. I literally have no idea how I worked this job for two years.

I also did a short stint as a paralegal intern for a Hopi Indian tribal law office during college. In addition to my English degree, I had decided to pursue a second major in Native American Studies. My original plan was to go to law school after I finished my undergrad, but that never happened. 

After college, I got sucked into the world of corporate entertainment, landing a job as one of three office assistants (yes, three…) for a high-level executive in the film marketing division at Walt Disney Studios. One might think it was a dream job, and I suppose if I had aspirations to be a screenwriter, producer, director, or actor, it would have been. But quite honestly, I had no interest in any of those things, and I only got the job as an act of nepotism because my boyfriend’s mom worked there. Sure, it was fun at first to work in the land of fairy dust, in a swanky executive office where everyone kissed your ass because they all wanted a meeting with your boss. However, I really didn’t give a fuck about making movies or catering to the multitude of incredibly high-maintenance famous people who came into our office on the daily, so in terms of dream jobs, this wasn’t mine. 

Out of boredom, I joined the company’s Crisis Management Team, volunteering to throw on an orange vest and hard hat, screaming through a bullhorn at people to exit the building in the event of an earthquake or other disaster. That little act of service led to me taking a class on how to use a fire extinguisher, which was when I discovered Disney had a volunteer fire department somewhere on the backlot of the studio, and it was this discovery that changed the trajectory of my life. 

Being an executive assistant in the corporate ivory tower, I had no idea where “the backlot” was or what went on there. That was the “other” side of the studio, for the people who did manual labor and blue-collar jobs. Unless one of them was coming to the office to fix a broken screen projector or replace an overhead fluorescent light that had burned out, the upper echelon in my building rarely interacted with the common folk. I, however, found their jobs intriguing and exciting. After taking that fire extinguisher class, I determined the blue-collar life was the one for me, and I instantly decided I was going to become a firefighter. Never mind that I was an overweight, sedentary office assistant who had gained 40 pounds in two years from eating Red Vines and peanut butter crackers at my desk, and I didn’t even know what the inside of a gym looked like. Several years of my soul slowly dying from working in a cutthroat, superficial industry that I hated was apparently enough to make me believe I was cut out for becoming a “hero.” 

Despite having zero athletic ability, I was accepted as a fire department volunteer (clearly, they were desperate for help…), and I spent the next year getting in shape and learning the basics of firefighting. I still slaved away at my executive office job, but now I had a really cool pager that alerted me whenever there was a fire or medical crisis on the property, and I would run out of the office yelling “emergency!” and hop on my little red bicycle, racing across the studio lot to the fire station to save the day. As fun as this was, I wanted to become a “real” firefighter, and not just a volunteer, so I put myself through a year-long weekend fire academy to become state certified. About a year later, a full-time fire inspector position opened up at one of the other Disney-owned properties. It paid significantly less than what I was making as an executive assistant, but I didn’t care. I said, “Peace out bitches,” packed up my desk, and left the suit-and-tie executive world to join the ranks of the blue-collar worker bees.

I stayed with the Disney Fire Department for the next six years, working my way up the ranks on both the firefighting and fire prevention sides of the coin, eventually becoming a fire suppression captain and the fire marshal for over 40 different Disney offsite buildings. I was on call 24-hours a day, every day, working 50-60 hours a week, and I was also putting in time working unpaid 24-hour shifts one or two weekends a month as an auxiliary firefighter for a small local municipality. I will also note that I was the first female firefighter this department had ever employed. I was busting my ass, but it felt great to be working in a field that I believed was worthwhile, and I took my jobs seriously. 

During this time, I worked closely with several municipal fire departments, and when a full-time fire inspector position opened up in one of their jurisdictions, I was encouraged to apply. At the time, my life revolved around the fire service, so I eagerly welcomed the opportunity to transition out of the private sector and into a government job. Because of the reputation I had built for myself at Disney as an effective leader and a hard worker, I was asked to remain with the studio’s fire department as a contract employee, training firefighters a couple nights a week. Being an overachiever, I decided to simultaneously pursue my master’s degree in Emergency Services Administration because hey, why not? 

For the next two years, I worked full-time for the city, part-time for Disney, and attended an accelerated university program on the weekends. I left work on Friday and went directly to class on Friday night until 10:00 pm, spent all day Saturday and Sunday in class from 9:00 am to 6:00 pm, and then went back to work on Monday morning, repeating this 7-days a week cycle of no personal life for two fucking years. You would think I’d want to slow down for a bit after that and enjoy the rewards of my hard work, but nope. 

While getting my master’s degree, I decided to knock out the requirements for a vocational teaching credential, and I obtained that certification as well. After graduating, I continued my journey of overachievement by becoming an instructor in the fire academy on weekends, and I also started teaching a night class at my local community college, just for funsies. I quickly realized that creating a brand new 3-hour course curriculum every week took more like 15 or 20 hours per week to plan, so it turned out that gig really wasn’t so fun after all… I guess it was probably no surprise that after a few years, I was completely fucking burned out. I had started to develop a love/hate relationship with the fire service, and I decided it was time for a change. 

My master’s program was specifically designed for emergency services personnel, catering mostly to high-ranking administrative staff in the fire service, but there were a few law enforcement officers in the class as well. Three of them, to be exact, and they were all employed with the Los Angeles Police Department. One of the guys was a motor cop, and he was the epitome of a class clown. You know – the guy who always disrupts the room, pisses off the professors, somehow manages to ditch all the work in group projects, and yet still graduates from the program, even though he shows up over an hour late to the final exam (Yes, Chris, I’m talking about you). I was the complete opposite type of student. I showed up early, religiously typed up all the written notes I took during class, used highlighters and colored pens on everything, was the leader of all the group projects, and always worried about failing exams, even though I spent most of my down time studying and got straight A’s. 

Despite Chris’ annoying ability to squeak by doing as little work as possible throughout the entire two years, I thought he was a riot, and we became fast friends. Eventually, our conversations sparked my interest in leaving the fire service to join the dark side and become a cop. At this point, I had been working a government job for just over three years, and I was making pretty decent money, so cue the first time I threw away a good salary and the security of earning a city pension to start a new career path. 

I applied for a job with the LAPD, and after a very bizarre and intense interrogation process with my background investigator (who was convinced I was covering up gang tattoos and had committed some kind of hidden crime because firefighters don’t give up their cushy jobs to become cops), it was eventually determined I had no illegal skeletons in my closet (or gang tattoos). I was accepted into the police academy and successfully completed 7 months of training. I was now among the ranks of one of the most famous police departments in the world. 

As you might have anticipated, while employed with the LAPD, my overachieving personality drove me to pursue as many challenging opportunities as possible, and I was fortunate to have worked some incredible assignments as a cop. I only spent about a year in patrol, and the rest of my career included stints in specialized units, undercover assignments, and highly coveted jobs that I worked my ass off to achieve. During my last five years on the job I was assigned to one of the most elite units in the department, and three of those years were spent working a crime suppression gig on horseback in the mounted unit. It was during this time that I met the love of my life, a beautiful quarter horse named Maverick. 

Like most little girls, I dreamed of having a horse when I was a kid. Well, a unicorn to be exact, but a horse would suffice. I loved, loved, loved horses, but I grew up in a small apartment, in the congested smog-filled San Fernando Valley of Southern California, so having a horse of my own was out of the question. I probably went horseback riding a handful of times throughout my youth, but all of those experiences were less than thrilling rides on overworked haggard trail horses who would shuffle painfully slowly down the road, only perking up when it was time to head back to the stables. When I was accepted into the mounted unit at LAPD, it was a fucking dream come true. Not only did I learn how to ride like a boss, but I had the awesome experience of basically having my own horse for three years without any of the financial responsibility for vet bills, boarding, or feeding. Talk about a sweet deal, right?? I believed this was the pinnacle of my career, and I was determined to ride this wave of awesomeness to retirement. 

That is, until it wasn’t so awesome anymore. The part where I got to ride a horse every day still totally rocked, but the job itself fucking sucked. As cliché as it sounds, I became a cop because I wanted to make a difference in my community and be a positive influence in people’s lives, but it got to the point where that became next to impossible. I’ll spare you the details of this whole experience because I’ve written about it in depth in a couple of my Simple Life website articles, and you can check those out if you’re interested (links at the bottom of this post!). Suffice it to say that working for a city that didn’t support it’s police department, and having command staff who were too morally weak to stand up for officers who were doing the right thing, was taking a toll on both my mental and physical health, and after 11 years as an LAPD officer, I decided it was time to move on. Cue the second time I gave up my pension and a good paying job to start over. I also took the big leap of leaving my family and friends behind to move to another state. 

Although I had done a decent amount of traveling throughout my life, at this point I’d never lived anywhere outside of California, and I had always lived in a large city. When I was assigned to the mounted unit at LAPD, despite the chaos of my job, working with horses allowed me to experience some hints of the “country life,” and I was slowly starting to crave a simpler existence, away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. I still didn’t like country music, even though my work partner often tried to lure me in by constantly playing it in the car on the ride to and from work, but there was something about the peacefulness and tranquility of being at the barn for a couple hours every day that was pulling at my soul, and I still wanted that vibe in my life. 

My bestie was living in Washington State at the time, and she took it upon herself to help me find a job. I ended up getting another law enforcement gig, but this time for a small police department in a mid-sized city on the Puget Sound. I bought a house in a small waterfront community in a quaint little town, and I was volunteering at a horse rescue down the road from my house on the weekends. I felt like I had found just the life I was looking for. I was still working in law enforcement, a career that I loved, but this time with supportive command staff and city leaders. Right after my probationary period ended, I was promoted to detective, which was a dream job for me. I got to work in depth on some insanely brutal, but fascinating, homicide cases, and I experienced an entirely different realm of police work and criminal activity than I had during my time with LAPD. I guess it’s true what they say about the weather in the Pacific Northwest causing people to go crazy and lose their shit. Well, that and a fuck ton of recreational drug use.

Similar to my mindset when I landed a position with the mounted unit at LAPD, I thought I would stay in this job until retirement, but my “be all, end all” detective career only lasted a couple years. When I became a cop, I knew I would frequently be placed in tough situations, but I never anticipated having to make a choice between keeping my job or staying true to my personal ethics and the sworn oath I had taken to serve the public and protect people’s constitutional rights. The Covid-19 “pandemic” and the subsequent insanity that followed and divided the country resulted in me having to make that choice. So, for the third time in just under 18 years, I gave up a career I had worked incredibly hard to achieve, financial security, and a government pension. Only this time, I left public service for good. 

So, with that said, it’s time to circle back to the original questions of what the fuck is this blog about, and why did I just write the equivalent of a mini novel, detailing the minutia of my education, the places I’ve lived, and the jobs I’ve had since I was 16 years old? Maybe I just really enjoy talking about myself, but I like to think I have a point to make. Here’s the part where I explain why I believe what I have to say is important, and why I’ve decided to share my life path with strangers. 

In short, it’s because I fucking can.

Huh…? Yep, that’s a significant part of the point of this whole thing. BECAUSE I CAN. I’m sharing these little glimpses into my work and life experiences because I’ve been fortunate enough to live them. Let that sink in for a minute…

If you still don’t understand what the fuck I’m saying, I’ll try to be a little more clear: The only reason I’ve been able to do all of this awesome, mundane, challenging, exciting, difficult, frustrating, exhilarating, scary, amazing shit is because I grew up in America (Land of the free! Home of the brave!). I’m a female who’s had the ability to not only succeed, but also fucking excel, in primarily male-dominated fields. I’m an example of what it’s possible to achieve in America with hard work and determination. I took advantage of every opportunity afforded to me to pursue my goals. No matter how often I’ve changed course, or how many times I’ve left a successful career to start over again from the bottom up, I’ve had the opportunity to make these decisions for myself, pursue difficult goals, and manifest my best fucking life because I’ve had the FREEDOM to do so. 

And that’s what this blog is about. Freedom, pursuing goals, and manifesting your best fucking life.

My story is not unique. I’m not a celebrity. I’m not a social media influencer. I wasn’t born into wealth or a legacy family. I’m not a world-renowned athlete. I’m just a hard-working, middle class, regular American. And there are millions of other Americans who have done the same kind of shit that I have, and so much more. I personally know tons of people who’ve had amazing life journeys and opportunities, and others who have created successful thriving businesses from nothing. Everyone has a story. The only thing that separates me from the masses is that I’m making the choice to share mine publicly, and I’m doing it because I hope my stories, experiences, and thoughts will benefit and inspire others. 

This blog is not intended to be about politics, but I’m going to spend a few minutes here on a bit of a political rant because it’s necessary to further my point. I am neither a leftwing liberal nor a rightwing conservative. Like the majority of hard-working Americans, I’m smack in the middle. In my defiant youth, I was an idealist, and I definitely identified as more of a Democrat. After joining the working world and having almost half of every paycheck go to taxes for failed government programs, while watching the majority of people on government assistance just continue to be unproductive and live comfortably off the hard work of others, I became a Republican. Over the past several years, my eyes have been fully opened to the fact that both parties are equally corrupt as fuck, and I don’t identify with either of them. I only continue to vote Republican because it’s the lesser of two evils. Let’s Go Brandon!! 

So, what the fuck do I stand for? Freedom, baby. I am a constitutionalist and a patriot. I support the 1^st and 2^nd Amendments that our government is trying to destroy, and I believe in the ideals and values that this great nation was founded upon. And, in case it’s not blatantly obvious, I’m an outspoken female in my late 40’s with a strong belief in living a purposeful, intentional life, and my favorite word is “fuck.”

When it comes to freedom, and particularly the idea of freedom as an American, I am very passionate about protecting the rights and privileges that are only possible in this country because of the sacrifices and passions of those who came before me. Do I think America is perfect? No – far from it, actually. But we sure as fuck have it better here than almost anywhere in the world. The past few generations of Americans have had it so incredibly easy in this country that we’ve forgotten what our ancestors (and for some of us, our current friends and family) have fought for, sacrificed for, and died for. Over the years, we’ve conveniently allowed ourselves to become complacent, and we take our freedoms for granted because they have always been there in our lifetime.

Do we all have hardships in one way or another? Absolutely. That’s just a part of life. But, overall, as a nation, we’ve turned into whiny, privileged, spoiled, entitled fucks who’ve never had to experience what true hardship is. We’ve completely lost perspective on what this country is all about, how great America is, and how truly lucky we are to be living in a country founded on freedom. I’m not excluding myself in the “we” that I’m talking about here. Up until I became a cop, I definitely took my freedom for granted. I wrote an entire article on The Simple Life website about how I didn’t understand the importance of freedom until I was in a position where I felt I no longer had any. 

Like many Americans, I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few months or years in this country, and I don’t know where the actual truth lies with all of the deceptive government propaganda and stories being played out in the media. However, what I do know is that the shit going on in our country is fucking wrong, and I’m intelligent enough to realize that everything happening is purposeful and intentional sabotaging of America from the inside by our current federal administration.

While other countries train their military members to be prepared for war, we weaken our military by placing the focus on teaching woke critical race theory and celebrating gender diversity. We institute school curriculum that teaches kids they are inherently racist, and we promote gender reassignment surgery for 10-year-olds. Our government is forcing us to stop relying on our own natural resources (of which we have plenty in this country), and we are being falsely led to believe that the only answer to climate change is to have electric vehicles, when in truth they are more damaging to our power grid and more of a drain on natural resources than a fucking gasoline powered car. We have been so completely led astray by bullshit disinformation and intentional misdirection that most people have lost touch with reality and have no idea that their rights are literally being taken away piece by piece. 

I’m sick of the false narratives being portrayed by the leftist media. I’m sick of the misdirected focus on nonsense like celebrating people for being “brave” by using “they/them” pronouns. I’m sick of virtue signaling, cancel culture, and pandering to ridiculous notions of inclusivity in a country that is already the most inclusive, accepting, and diverse country in the world! So, instead of burying my head in the sand and hoping shit will get better “after the midterms,” or that someone else will come along and be the voice that makes a difference, I’m choosing to join the small percentage of people who are speaking out for American freedom. I’m choosing to use my writing and leadership skills as a means to stand up for what I believe in and be a voice for those who are too afraid to speak up, too busy struggling to make ends meet to take care of their families, or who are equally as frustrated and angry as I am, but they just don’t know how to take action.

I’m not special. I’m not uniquely qualified to speak my truth more than anyone else is. I’m just done with the fucking bullshit, and I’ve reached a point where I refuse to lay down like a beaten dog and quietly accept tyranny and a communist takeover of my beloved country. 

When I initially left my law enforcement career, my primary goal was to live a simple rural life, on a couple acres of property, far away from the bullshit. As much as I sound like I just walked off the set of “Braveheart,” I’m actually pretty chill. Like millions of other Americans, I just want to be left alone to do my thing and be a productive, contributing member of society. If the country wasn’t falling apart, I probably wouldn’t be starting this blog and spending what little free time I have furiously typing away on my computer. I’d be working on home projects, spending time with my animals outside (when it’s not too hot out), occasionally indulging in my guilty pleasure of watching “90 Day Fiancé” (Yes, all the seasons and all the spin-off shows…), and focusing on my daily gratitude and manifestation practices.  

So, here’s the part where I talk about the second significant reason why I’m starting this blog – the importance of gratitude and feeling high vibe so I can focus on manifesting my best fucking life. What does that have to do with freedom, you ask? Everything. 

Up until about 3 years ago, I didn’t give a fuck about gratitude, and I had no idea what manifesting was. Sure, I had heard of the Law of Attraction, but I thought all of that shit was for cultish hippie weirdos, like some of the friends my mom had when I was growing up. I believed the only way to be successful in life was through hard work, determination, and perseverance. I believed the only way to grow was through struggle. Grit and toughness 24-7! This was the mindset I had throughout my fire service and law enforcement careers, and, in truth, these attributes absolutely helped me achieve success. However, something was always missing. Sure, I thrived in all of my careers, but was I ever legitimately happy? No. Was I ever satisfied with my accomplishments? No. Did I take time to appreciate that fact that I was so fucking fortunate and blessed to be living in a country where I had the opportunity to achieve all of these incredible things? No. Did I truly love my life? Again, a resounding no. 

For many years, I never felt like I was good enough or doing enough, no matter how successful I was, or how much cool shit I accomplished. As a kid, I was dorky, accident-prone (okay, I can’t lie – this is still a thing), and I had no athletic ability. I was artsy and creative, but I had low self-esteem and very little self-confidence. When I became an adult and decided to pursue career fields involving skills and abilities that didn’t come naturally to me, I overcompensated for my perceived lacking talents by pushing myself so hard that I would not allow myself to fail.

In some ways, this was the best thing I ever could have done for myself because I became a confident, driven, high achiever, and I did shit in my life beyond my wildest dreams. However, my confidence and drive were fueled by underlying fears and limiting beliefs. Having grown up as a shy, nerdy, uncoordinated, quiet, underachiever, I felt the need to constantly prove myself to others in order to feel successful. This was especially true for me being a small female working in high-testosterone male dominated fields. I lived in a constant state of believing my self-worth was tied to acceptance and approval from my peers, supervisors, friends, and family. It wasn’t until my mid-40’s that I realized this was a really shitty way to live. 

Discovering the Law of Attraction was a significant part of my journey to achieve freedom because it was like discovering my true power. I realized that I am the only one in control of my thoughts and feelings, and I am the only one who can make the choice to level up my life. To quote the famous words of Eleanor Roosevelt, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” For most of my life, I had been allowing this to happen. When I came to this realization, I began to fully understand what true freedom is and how fucking important freedom is to me. Not just the concept of freedom that America was founded on, but the freedom of fully believing in who I am. Freedom to make my own choices and decisions. Freedom to trust myself and the path I’m choosing to take in my life. Freedom to not be influenced by the limiting beliefs and fears of others. Freedom to not give a shit about disappointing people by not being their version of perfect. 

Understanding the power of gratitude and manifestation is what gave me the courage to stand up for my beliefs and decide to quit my law enforcement career. I had no fucking idea where my life was headed, but I had learned to trust in myself and trust in the Universe that things would always somehow work out for me.

My move to Texas was completely unexpected, and it happened before I even had time to process what the fuck I was doing. The whole thing was like a “wing and a prayer” situation, and it was one of the most stressful times of my life. I didn’t have a secure job lined up, my housing situation was up in the air, and the actual move itself was a fucking fiasco. My friends and family thought I was crazy to be taking this kind of risk, especially in my mid-40’s. Who the fuck does that…? Me, that’s who. 

Even though at this point I had been practicing manifestation and daily gratitude for about a year, and I knew all signs were pointing to me taking this leap of faith, I was still scared as fuck. I’d never even heard of the city I was moving to until a few weeks beforehand, and I had no idea how I was going to support myself when I got there. Despite my fears, and all of the unknowns, I knew it was all going to work out somehow because this journey was in alignment with my ideals of freedom. And it turned out I was right. Against all odds, my realtor found me the perfect house, I ended up getting a full-time job, and I started down a new and exciting life path.  

I spent over 20 years of my life dedicated to public safety because I believed that serving my community was my purpose in life. Even though I trusted the path the Universe was now paving for me, I was still apprehensive to completely leave that life behind. Although I was no longer a police officer, I was still holding onto the belief that in order to fulfill my life purpose, I needed to maintain a connection to that world, and I had plans to start a side business as a professional investigative consultant writer for law enforcement agencies. Once I got settled here, I applied for an LLC and wrote up a business plan. I believed I was on my way to developing a thriving entrepreneurial side gig, but the Universe stepped in once again… this time in the form of Gary Collins. 

When I was given the opportunity to write articles for The Simple Life website, I jumped at the chance. After years of having to keep my personal opinions to myself and not being able to openly express my beliefs due to facing repercussions on the job as a police officer, I felt like I was suddenly being given a golden key to unlock my true potential for growth and live my best fucking life. Was I scared to put myself out there? Hell to the motherfucking yes. I don’t even share things about my personal life on social media, except for occasional pictures of animals and sunrises / sunsets, so the idea of speaking out about my experiences in a public forum was terrifying. Sure, I could easily speak with command presence and confidence in front of a room full of high-ranking city officials when talking about a homicide investigation, but writing details about my personal life on the internet? Um, no thank you. 

Yet, I took the plunge and did it anyway. I set aside my fears, my limiting beliefs, and my doubts, and said fuck it, let’s do this. I trusted my gut, and all of the annoying little nudges and signs I was continually receiving from the Universe that I needed to do this. I wrote from a place of truth, vulnerability, and integrity, speaking as my authentic self and not as someone who was trying to start a professional writing business. In fact, I ended up totally fucking myself for any possibilities of writing for law enforcement agencies because I was now speaking from a very opinionated place, and not from the impartial and objective perspective that was the foundational platform for my business plan. 

I struggled with this contradiction when I first started writing website articles. I had put a lot of time and effort into creating my intended business, and I had also involved several other people who were taking time out of their own busy lives to generously help me create my business plan and write me letters of recommendation. Initially, I felt like I had wasted their time, and mine, and I had a lot of guilt over this. However, that nagging, compelling voice in my head told me to keep writing articles and trust my journey, so I did. Side business be damned. 

I’ve come to understand that in order to manifest my best fucking life, I must choose to embrace my journey and welcome all of the shit that comes along with it, including allowing myself to be authentic about my love of manifesting and being in a high vibration with the Universe. I used to be embarrassed about my belief in the Law of Attraction, and it was something I kept hidden from my friends and family. I didn’t want them thinking I’d lost my mind and was doing some weird cult shit. When I first started learning about this stuff, I also didn’t know if I fully believed in the concept of manifestation. I had a fuck ton of doubts, and I felt incredibly ridiculous and uncomfortable walking around my house reciting positive affirmations and visualizing myself living the life I wanted. But, when I started a practice of daily gratitude, my views changed. Gratitude is the shit. When I’m in a high vibration of gratitude, the Universe fucking listens, and amazing things happen in my life.

I’ve also come to understand that in order to be in alignment with my true self and show up the way I believe I am destined to in this life, I need to stop resisting and pushing away my natural talents. I need to let go of the limiting beliefs that whisper in my ear about how nobody is going to care about reading the life experiences and rambling opinions of a middle-aged woman living in rural Texas. I need to stop giving in to my fears that I will be judged for what I am writing. I need to stop fucking procrastinating and just do the damn thing. 

Writing and public speaking are my strongest assets, and I now know that everything I’ve done up to this point in my life has been purposefully aligned to help me hone and sharpen these abilities, preparing me for this moment. I recently started working with an incredible manifestation coach, and she has been instrumental in encouraging me to use my passion for writing on a larger and more impactful scale. I took baby steps when I started writing articles for The Simple Life, and now I’m taking the deep dive into creating my own writing platform. 

So, what’s going to come of me writing this blog? I literally have no fucking idea. All I know is I’m being supported and encouraged by the Universe and some amazing people in my life to put this shit out into the world, so that’s what I’m doing. I’ll be telling some stories (likely embarrassing ones), sharing some opinions (probably politically incorrect ones), and hopefully relating my life experiences in a way that supports and inspires people to stand up for the values they believe in and take the steps (no matter how small!) to make the changes necessary to manifest their own best fucking lives in the process. 

If anything I’ve written resonates with you, bookmark this site and stick around for upcoming posts. I’ve got a lot of shit to talk about. And if you have patriotic friends and family who believe in freedom and common sense, and are looking to hear from a like-minded voice, please share this blog!

Unapologetically Outspoken,

Tara 

Links to my Simple Life articles:

https://thesimplelifenow.com/in-search-of-the-simple-life/

https://thesimplelifenow.com/how-the-threat-of-losing-my-freedom-pushed-me-to-find-my-voice/

https://thesimplelifenow.com/policing-in-america-new-and-old-strageties-for-success/

https://thesimplelifenow.com/my-path-to-self-reliance-and-living-the-simple-life/

https://thesimplelifenow.com/the-mental-health-side-to-the-simple-life/