I’ve still been collecting thoughts in that running Notes app on my phone. Still trying to make sense of motherhood, work, ambition, friendship, leadership, my own growth, and all the life-y stuff in between.

But over the past nine months, the lessons and questions I’ve been writing down have gotten bigger.

I’ve spent time in rooms with women from all walks of life: advocates, Fortune 500 executives, founders, policymakers, investors, researchers, and leaders talking about the systems that shape our lives. Some are shaping global policy and building movements. Others are doing equally meaningful work much closer to home.

And somewhere along the way, I started thinking differently about what it means to be a work in progress.

Because yes, I am one. So are you.

But so are the systems around us.

Our workplaces. Our healthcare system. How we support mothers. How we put women in positions of power, research women’s bodies, fund women’s ideas, or simply how we value women’s work… it’s all a work in progress.

And maybe being a work in progress isn’t only about the work we’re doing on ourselves. Maybe it’s also about recognizing what’s unfinished around us and asking: What part of all of this is mine to work on?

Our communities. Our companies. Our families. The rooms we’re invited into… or the tables we sit at.

One thing I’ve been reminded of again and again this year is the power of bringing women together.

I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with Gloria Steinem, and one of the things she taught me is the importance of women physically gathering. Gloria told me about the science of being together and how our bodies produce oxytocin when we gather IRL, which allows us to connect and empathize more deeply. I’ve felt it and I am sure you have, too.

We share experiences. We compare notes. We realize that something we thought was ours alone is often being experienced by so many other women, too. We’re not alone. And from that shared understanding, we can create momentum.

Sometimes that momentum becomes a company (for me, that was Perelel), a movement (#FUNDWOMENSHEALTH), a piece of policy (more on that later), or an idea that changes something at true scale. Sometimes it’s much smaller and much closer to home. It changes how you show up in a conversation, how you support another woman, how you lead a team, or how you take on the tremendous responsibility of raising a child.

I’ve come to believe that none of those things are actually small.

And that’s the thought I’m sitting with this week: What’s within my sphere of influence and what can I actually do with it?

So, WIP is back.

There will still be the little thoughts from my Notes app. The lessons I can’t stop thinking about. Reflections on motherhood, building, advocating, screwing up, resetting, and trying again. And I will also bring in some of the wisdom I’ve learned from the extraordinary women I’m fortunate enough to spend time with—from women working at the highest levels of business, policy, culture, research, and advocacy to women doing profound work inside their own homes and communities. (I am most excited about this part.)

As always, take what hits. Leave what doesn’t.

After all, we’re all still figuring it out. And we’re all a WIP.

See you next week.

It was such a simple question. And frankly, it was a little jarring at the time. But, it changed how I see everything. Because in that moment, I realized my irritation had almost nothing to do with said ponytail wagger and almost everything to do with something unsettled in me.

Because it’s true. The way we speak about others, the reactions we have, the things that bother us—none of it actually says much about them. It says everything about us. Sometimes the thing we point to in someone else is the exact thing we’re avoiding in ourselves.

To put it simply: Our words are mirrors. Our judgments are projections. And our gossip is often just misplaced insecurity.

I’m learning to pause and ask myself: What is this really about? What in me is being triggered right now? What truth is this trying to surface? And what does my reaction say about me?

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Resistance has this sneaky way of feeding the very thing we want to move through. Whether it’s refusing to accept a situation, struggling with a decision, or clinging to how we think life should look. It builds pressure. It tightens our grip. It keeps us stuck and weighed down.

The more we push against something, the tighter its grip becomes. Or as my husband likes to say: What we resist, persists.

I’ve learned (the hard way) that letting go isn’t about giving up. It’s about softening. Creating space. Shifting energy.

When I finally accepted that I needed to leave a job that looked “right” on paper (but no longer felt right in my gut), I stopped spiraling. The moment I admitted it to myself, my whole body exhaled. And once I stopped fighting what I already knew, a new direction quietly made itself clear.

We don’t have to like what’s happening. But when we stop resisting, we start moving. And that freedom is priceless.

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Bruce Lee once said: “Be formless, shapeless, like water. You put water into a cup, it becomes the cup… Be water, my friend.”

I come back to that every time I catch myself gripping too hard to a specific outcome or butting up against constant friction—whether it’s trying to control how a business deal plays out, navigating a day with toddlers, or facing some big unknown.

Because life will always present obstacles—like rocks in a river. But water doesn’t fight the rock. It flows around it. Changes shape. Keeps moving.

So this week, try it: Be like water.

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Not just the hours worked, but the soul traded. The energy diverted. The presence sacrificed. The late nights, the missed bedtimes, the days spent chasing something that may never give back what it took.

Thoreau once said, “The cost of a thing is the amount of… life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.” I sincerely haven’t been able to shake that line since I read it about three years ago, in the early days of building Perelel. It made me rethink everything.

We’re taught to measure success by inputs and outputs. By ROI, ROAS… by what something earns or yields. But rarely by what it takes from us.

What if the real cost isn’t money, but your life? What is the “life cost” of the big job, the hustle, maintaining the image? Or trying to prove something to people who aren’t even paying attention?

What’s the cost of never being in the moment you’re actually living in right here, right now?

As a founder, a mom, a partner, and a person, I’m realizing that there’s a hidden economy running beneath it all. While the costs don’t show up on a balance sheet, you feel them at your core. Bit by bit, we trade little pieces of ourselves every day—sometimes for things that truly matter, sometimes for things that don’t.

Since stumbling upon that Thoreau quote, I find myself constantly asking: Is this worth the life it will cost me?

For me this question has become a quiet compass. It’s a filter I use for everything. From how I spend my time, where I put my energy, what I hold on to, and what I let go. It’s not just big things like work or ambition, but small things too. Like how much of my life I give to the guy who cut me off on the 405.

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As a reminder, this is how WIP works. The TL/DR: One reflection each week. Something you can read in under a minute, but (hopefully) carry with you a bit longer. Personally, I sit with it each morning when I meditate and do my best to put it into practice throughout the week. Really try it on for size.

Join me back in the comments at the end of each week and let me know how it goes.

My husband once gave me a tip:

Spend a week quietly sending genuine goodwill to the person you’re struggling with most. Not out loud, just in your thoughts. A few minutes each morning. And really mean it.

It’s harder than it sounds. But when I do it, something shifts. Not in them, but in me.

You don’t have to forget. You don’t have to reconnect with the person. But love can unburden you.

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As a reminder, this is how WIP works. The TL/DR: One reflection each week. Something you can read in under a minute, but (hopefully) carry with you a bit longer. Personally, I sit with it each morning when I meditate and do my best to put it into practice throughout the week. Really try it on for size.

Join me back in the comments at the end of each week and let me know how it goes.

As a reminder, this is how WIP works. The TL/DR: One reflection each week. Something you can read in under a minute, but (hopefully) carry with you a bit longer. Personally, I sit with it each morning when I meditate and do my best to put it into practice throughout the week. Really try it on for size.

Join me back in the comments at the end of each week and let me know how it goes.

As a reminder, this is how WIP works. Sit with this for the week, return to it daily, and let’s check back in on Friday in the comments.

As a reminder, this is how WIP works. The TL/DR: One reflection each week. Something you can read in under a minute, but (hopefully) carry with you a bit longer. Personally, I sit with it each morning when I meditate and do my best to put it into practice throughout the week. Really try it on for size.

Join me back in the comments at the end of each week and let me know how it goes.

I’ve had a running note in my phone for years called WIP—short for Work In Progress. I started it before launching my company, Perelel, in 2020, and it’s where I drop the things life keeps teaching me. It’s a mashup of borrowed wisdom from brilliant people I’ve been lucky to cross paths with, hard lessons from building a business, motherhood, love, loss, and all the chaos that shows up when life gets… well, lifey.

For a while, I tried to keep up by doing what we’re all told to do: Stack good habits! Set daily intentions! Journal! And optimize… everything! Honestly, it was annoying. Overwhelming. And completely counterproductive. Plus, it stressed me out. I’d get to Friday and barely remember what I was “working on.”

Then one day my husband said, “What if you just picked one thing a week and really lived in it?” So that’s what I did.

Every Monday, I pull one line from my WIP note in my Notes app—a quote I heard, a tough lesson I learned, or a small truth that keeps tugging at me—and I sit with it. All week. And whatever it is, it becomes my lens and compass.

This Substack is an open version of that practice. One reflection each week. Something you can read in under a minute, but (hopefully) carry with you a bit longer.

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Think of WIP as weekly touchstone. A small moment to reflect, recalibrate, and inspire your thinking offline. And most importantly, a reminder that growth takes time. And intention. And the willingness to choose who you want to be. Again and again.

So, take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.

I’ll post every Sunday evening so you can start your week with it. Read it Monday morning. Sit with it. Come back to it throughout the week. Let it sink in. Try it on for size. And see if it reshapes how you think.

At the end of the week, meet me in the comments. How did it go? What landed? What didn’t?

We are all a WIP. Welcome.

Be back with the first post this Sunday…