OK, here's the deal -

I took a rather intentional pause from writing pep talks—not because I don't like you (I do), but because it started to feel like the Universe was purposefully orchestrating biweekly crises in my life just so I'd have something to tell you about.

‍Because yes, my friend: The horrors have persisted. Since I last wrote, I managed to break a couple of ribs. Then, just as they were starting to feel better, I sneezed 'em out of place again and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD did that hurt. Like, those few moments were most certainly among my top three most painful experiences. And I've birthed two children and broken an ankle.

‍Next up? A hail storm totaled my husband's car. That was a full two weeks ago, now, so maaaaaaybe the streak has been broken. If something happens this afternoon, I'll know one of you people has a Kelley-shaped voodoo doll that you only remember to use when you get one my emails.

I believe the appropriate response to all of this is "uff da," an expression I recently learned from a sympathetic client.

Also... I'm having a bit of an identity crisis with these pep talks. When I read through previous editions, they feel bossy. Preachy. Surface-y. Whom am I tell you to "give your brain a break" or "lead with love"?

Shouldn't I be writing something about marketing? Or copywriting? I should be aDdInG vAlUe, right? Except, I told y'all what you were signing up for, and the last time I asked for feedback, folks were all, "Yay peptalks!" Blergh.

‍Also also... With everything going on in the world right now, every pep talk I come up with feels like the email equivalent of a Live, Laugh, Love sign.

So instead of an official pep talk in a pale yellow box, I'm just going to sign off this way: You're doing a good job.

I bet you didn't get deodorant marks on your shirt today.

I bet you didn't hit the wrong pedal in the drive-through line.

I bet you didn't shatter your partner's favorite coffee cup.

I bet you smiled at someone just when they needed one.

I bet you said "Biiiiiiig stretch" to your dog and now they feel proud.

I bet you put the cart back in the corral instead of letting it roam the parking lot.

‍And even if you actually did do one of those things or you didn't do any of those things, I bet you have 1,457 other reasons to feel proud of yourself today.

Tell me one of them, will you?

With love,Kelley