Three months ago, Katherine and I picked up our suburban life and moved our family of 7 + one ex-husband to a hippy farming island full of magic. The first 2 weeks I spent mostly crying, then I rage built shit, while pretending I was super chill anytime Handsome Matt came over to help.

This move and all these new things that I happen to have now clue how to do have brought up all my shit.

My perpetual face plants, stumbles + skinned knees have forced me to re-examine my relationship with masculinity, perfectionism, + self worth. It has made me check my ego + learn to ask for help. It’s made me take my own medicine when parenting my kids. And it’s made me wonder why we lose the ability to fail on purpose, pushing ourselves to our edges as we grow?

Last night this kid threw himself down a very high up bike ramp thing towards mounds of dirt he would ride over, with zero preparation.  And I let him!