Every single time I’ve bowed to mediocrity - in work, friendship, family, or love - it has ended badly. Not politely, not quietly, not gracefully. BADLY.
Because here’s the truth: I am terrible at pretend.
I cannot fake fulfillment with a filter. I cannot mask “meh” as meaningful. I cannot disguise dull as divine. My radar is ruthless. My spirit knows the difference between almost and absolutely, and it refuses to let me confuse the two.
Settling is a sly thief. It doesn’t break down the door - it tiptoes in quietly. It whispers, “This is fine,” when it isn’t. It takes leftovers and labels them luxury.
And if you’re not careful, you’ll succumb to all of this. You’ll convince yourself that comfortable is close enough to content.
But comfortable can crush you. Comfortable can keep you small. Comfortable can kill your calling.
I’ve learned this as a mother, lover, and leader.
As a mother, I know my daughter is watching. She sees everything. She knows when my words and actions don’t line up, and she wholly feels the difference between presence and pretense. She doesn’t need to hear my lectures on courage - she needs to see it lived, totally and truly. She deserves an example of a woman who rejects “just enough,” who says no to inequitable compromises and demonstrates a full-on, all-in yes to alive and thriving. Because our children rise not from what we say but from what we choose.
As a lover, I know that passion is not optional. Love should not limp along on half-effort and half-attention. It should be electric, expansive, and at times, a bit exhausting. We all want the kind of connection that catches breath and breaks barriers - the kind that runs hot, not the sort that barely flickers. It’s hard work, but the best work. And because flowers are my love language, I’ll say this: don’t bring me bouquets of obligation or the most ordinary. Bring me boundless boldness, goodness, and colour. Not one tired tulip when I’m worth a wild garden in bloom.
As a leader, I know that what is modeled matters. When mediocrity is allowed to linger, it multiplies. If we accept “just okay,” then “just okay” becomes the standard. But when we search for and insist on more - integrity, kindness, curiosity, compassion - that is what grows. Leadership is not about titles; it is about the declarlation to not normalize the bare minimum in our life. Compromise in character or vision creates cracks that spread quickly. Half-hearted effort doesn’t just stall progress - it stifles possibility. Leadership is about calling people toward something higher, not excepting what’s easiest. It means setting a standard that says: excellence is worth the effort, clarity matters, and commitment is non-negotiable.
So here’s where I stand:
Work should be worth the wake-up. It should not smother your soul but stretch you in ways that are bright and deep.
Friendships should flourish. Fierce, fun, faithful - the ones who love you loudly, and not only when it’s convenient.
Family should fuel. They should root for your rise, not resent it. Love that lifts, not guilt that grinds.
Intimacy should light you up. Fire rather than embers. Full force, not faint attempts.
Anything less is a half-life. And we Can’t live halfway.
When we say yes to less, we shrink. We start starving our aspirations to fit someone else’s comfort zone. We start slicing and silencing our truth to protect someone else’s ego. We start building a life that looks good on paper but feels hollow in our chest.
But when we say no to mediocrity, we say yes to meaning. We say yes to the marrow of who we are. We say yes to our one brave and lovely life.
here’s the manifesto - etched, not penciled in:
Don’t dim. Don’t dilute. Don’t do “just okay.”
Bring it all, or don’t come at all.
Because I’d rather have a handful of blazing friendships than a hundred hollow ones. One calling that consumes me than a bunch of work that drains me. A kind of love that expands me more than a lifetime of “maybes” and “almosts.”
Half-effort, half-truth, half-heart? No thank you.
I want the whole. Always the whole.
And if that makes me too much - so be it.
I’d rather be too much than pretend to be less.
I’d rather be real than rehearsed.
I’d rather live lit up than die dimmed down.
Untamed, unapologetic, always bursting with humble possibility. Now more than ever. I’ll never be satiated with wilted intentions when I was made for a full field of magic.
I will not be little.
I will not settle.
I will not pretend.