Yeah, me too.
- She uses words like supes and totes. (I adopt the laugh of friends. Turns out I totes adopt their vernacular too.)
- She believes in power poses and positive thinking and pep talks. This is like crack for my anxiety. With less adversarial long-term effects.
- She’s brave enough to tell me when I’ve hurt her, creating spaces for growth and connectedness.
- We’re on our way to being besties whether she likes it or not. Which I realize makes business complicated, but life is complicated, so fuck it.
- When I hyperventilate at “staff meetings” every week for six months because my self doubt dominates, instead of moving with no forwarading address, she listens and loves. She validates and redirects.
- She has a great laugh. Which is a relief because some day I’ll probably assume it. (I don’t mean to; it just happens.)
- She knows I accidentally poop in front of people and still wants to work with me.
- She’s patient with my self-depreciation, but flashes me her “this has got to go” eyes. I’m working on it.
- She’s written a book, yo. And she’s working on a second. And she gets me off my writing butt.
- She believes in kindness and grace and people and their stories.
- While I’m in the corner coddling fear, she’s excited about everything! She actually yelled at me once while I was driving, “You need to get excited about this, Shannon!”
- She’s bossy.
- She’s acutally not bossy at all. Except when she is.
- She wears her shirts inside out on Wednesdays.
- She’s lived in Guyana, Korea, Wales and Brighton. Yeah, I know.
- She asks the best questions, is patient with my too-long stories, is delighted by the smallest gifts and can teach herself anything.
- She believe in us. Like she really, really believes in us and what we’re doing and what we will do.
So I’m sorry I snapped her up first, but you can’t really blame me.