What a Gift.

The art of finally opening what was always yours

May 08, 2026

Today is my 30^th birthday, so I’ve been thinking a lot about gifts.

Not the kind delicately packaged in tastefully patterned, handmade bamboo-fiber wrapping paper from Paper Source with a big chiffon bow on top (although I love those gifts as well). I’m talking about the gifts we’re given at birth – talents, quirks, and abilities completely unique to us.

I’m not great at opening gifts. I’ll admit that to this collective.

Even when I love the gift – which is always – I’m just…not quite sure what to do with my face. It’s like I overthink how I should be reacting and end up delivering the awkward combo of a giggle and an unconvincing “oh my gosh, it’s great!” which makes the gifter think I don’t like it. I do, I swear!

It’s just that, as a chronic overthinker, it takes me time to absorb what I have been given, think about how it will look on my shelf, what I’ll wear it with, or even how it will exist in my world.

Since starting this Substack, I’ve received quite a few kind notes from close friends and family telling me they had no idea I could write. I mean, they knew I wasn’t illiterate (I think), but the underutilization of said gift — aka none at all — for 29 years could have fooled anyone.

What’s funny is that I’ve kept Notes upon Notes of stories and ideas in my phone for years. I’ve written full-on articles that have been sitting in the archives of my Word documents collecting digital dust while I wait. Wait for what?

Great question.

Maybe someone to give me permission? Approval? Applause? I’m not sure who I thought was coming to deliver this feedback, but they never came. It was one of those inner audience members who finally threw a fit and asked, “What on earth are you waiting for?”

My waiting is probably attributed to a number of factors, one simply being that I’ve kept myself in that perpetual state of wondering, “What do I do with this gift?” and “Is it any good?”

It’s interesting how easily we recognize the value of other people’s gifts while simultaneously questioning our own.

Back in the day, at the height of her singing career, I used to say, “What a gift it is to live in a world where Adele’s voice exists.” (I still say this.) Can you imagine if she had decided to never use that talent? If all that incredible sound stayed locked inside her?

Or if Viola Davis never brought those layered, human stories to life on screen?

If C. S. Lewis never shared the kind of wisdom that makes you feel simultaneously comforted and exposed?

If Martha Stewart never transformed hosting from obligation into an art form?

If Jean-Michel Basquiat had ignored the instinct that kept pulling him back to a canvas?

If Robin Williams never reminded us that humor and heartbreak can exist in the very same breath?

If Mother Teresa had looked at suffering and thought, “There’s too much to fix, so why even try?”

Granted, we wouldn’t know exactly what we were missing. But I can assure you, the world would feel far less vivid without people willing to use the gifts they were given.

The initial feeling I had in creating this little bi-weekly brain dump was fear — an emotion not unfamiliar to those who put themselves out there.

I will say that, for me, it’s different from the slightly anxious feeling I get when posting a picture of myself on Instagram, which, even after a decade of use, I still find uncomfortable. Yes, perhaps that action comes with a layer of vulnerability — although, personally, I can hardly imagine that the just-over 1,200 followers I have spend, a ton of time thinking about my social presence.

Sharing pictures of yourself or your life might feel unnatural at first, but it’s generally met with the reward of likes or comments, or perhaps even texts from that guy you had a crush on a couple of years back who suddenly remembers you exist again. But sharing a piece of your mind? Your heart? That, to me, feels a lot scarier.

The second feeling I had was anticipated embarrassment. I’m not ashamed to write or share the ideas that live within my brain. But there was a tiny voice, most likely doubt, whispering to me, what if everyone hates this? As if my friends and family (and perhaps even unknown enemies?) would gather around and say, “She thinks she can write, how embarrassing.”

And could those voices exist? Maybe. But they’ve yet to reach me.

Ironically, when I see someone put themselves out there, I feel so inspired by them. I want more of it.

You think anyone has ever said, “I want fewer Olivia Dean songs!” “I wish Robert De Niro made fewer movies!” “I wish Mother Teresa didn’t help so many people!”? I can’t imagine a sane person who would.

Passion is contagious.

One more time for the people in the back!

Passion. Is. Contagious.

Alternatively, I find apathy to be one of the most unappealing characteristics a person can have.

Apathy’s publicist has been doing a real bang-up job over the past decade in making it seem like the most carefree, untroubled emotion around. But you can’t fool me. I believe apathy to be no more than a mask worn by the more complex emotions – fear, embarrassment, grief, doubt, indecision, and so on.

While apathy continues its global tour, we also face the great modern conundrum of consumption vs. creation.

The average person spends vastly more time consuming — watching, reading, scrolling, or listening — than creating. Creation is active. It requires focus, energy, and oftentimes, risk. Consumption, on the other hand, is often low-risk and “comforting,” allowing us to exist in a doomscroll cycle that requires very little energy or output.

At first, it feels benign.

But then a year goes by – or maybe five – and you realize that your dreams, ideas, and interests have taken a backseat because you’re busy watching someone else live their life through a 3x5 screen. In doing so, we’ve confused this constant consumption with a full life. In case you have forgotten, as I have from time to time, you were made for more than just sitting around watching what a stranger “eats in a day,” or what new workout tops that random influencer from LA just linked.

You were built to create, not just consume. You have a gift to give the world – and right now? The world needs it.

If you are a basketball fan – or a fan of film – you’ve perhaps seen one of the greatest modern sports movies, Coach Carter (2005). In its most quoted scene, one of the players, Timo Cruz, addresses Coach Carter, played by Samuel L. Jackson, by reciting a quote from Marianne Williamson’s Return to Love:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us…Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do…And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

If you haven’t seen the movie, which is based on a true story, Coach Carter famously locks out his undefeated high school basketball team from the gym, forfeiting games to enforce academic standards. His radical decision rooted in a simple belief: that those young men are worth far more than what their environment led them to believe. In doing so, he gave them something far greater than wins or losses — he gave them hope, and a sense of what they are capable of becoming.

At its core, it’s a reminder that recognizing your worth is only the beginning — the real work is choosing to act on it, to use what you’ve been given rather than let it sit unused.

So I guess this Substack was just as much a gift to myself as it was an expression of any form of talent – proof that perhaps the scariest part of having a gift is allowing yourself to finally put it to use.

I’m inspired by artists, musicians, designers, teachers, philosophers, athletes, writers, chefs, doctors — absolutely. But beyond any title, I’m most moved by people who choose to let their light out into the world in whatever form it takes, wherever they are, for however long they’re here.

That, to me, is what using your gifts really is.

Using our gifts is how we avoid becoming the “Pretender” Jackson Browne sang about. Those dreams, desires, and instincts exist inside us for a reason — they’re meant to be expressed.

Putting yourself out there is hard. I won’t pretend otherwise. But when the intention is to use what you’ve been given to make someone else’s load a bit lighter or their day a bit brighter, it becomes worth it. And when that expression is rooted not in ego, but in service, it starts to feel less like performance and more like purpose.

Sometimes our gifts are hard to open — and even harder to convince ourselves to use. But if even one person is changed by what you give, the form it came in stops mattering altogether.

*And as we approach Mother’s Day this Sunday, I’d be remiss not to thank my beautiful mother for the greatest gift she could have given me and my three siblings — the gift of life. A woman of endless gifts and talents, three (!!!) degrees, and my goodness — the biggest heart you’ll ever know. She, alongside my father, has given us the strongest foundation. She’s given us her love of the ocean, a propensity for travel, impeccable style, a gift for connection, and an incredible catalog of music knowledge — picture four blonde toe-headed kids with unruly hair, all under age eight singing Elton John’s “Levon” in unison at the top of their lungs, en route to the beach.

You’ve gifted us so much of yourself, but perhaps most importantly, you’ve provided us with a faith that overcomes all doubt and love that reminds us we are never alone. Thank you for choosing to be a mom. I’m the luckiest that you’re mine.

And for your gift to me? Perhaps you share this with someone who’s been keeping their light hidden.