I Choose Me
So here’s the story.
I was leading a group program of mine called The Persona Collective, where I guide members to unveil and introduce their iconic personas. One day during a call, doubts began to cast shadows over our work. Each member had named their persona, created moodboards, and explored her essence—but some were still holding back. Scared to be seen. Scared to fully step into her iconic identity.
So I decided to tell them a story I used to be shamed to share—where my personas originally came from.
Back in college, we used to have parties at a friend’s house. Five roommates, great music, legendary jello shots. All of us were grinding through heavy course loads, and those parties became our pressure release. But even in the middle of the fun, we always seemed to get into deep conversations. Like, can’t-help-ourselves deep. Always honest. Always truth. I guess you could say the jello shots were our truth serum.
One night, something came over me. I grabbed a poster board, taped it to the back of the front door, and hung a Sharpie from a string next to it. I told everyone, “At the end of the night, write a note to your sober self. Sign it. We’ll look at them in the morning and see what truth comes through.” What may have been written under the influence was often a clear declaration of truth. At one point I wrote:
“I feel like a cadaver, dead inside. I don’t actually want to be a doctor.”
A little later, I changed my major from pre-med to psychology—triple minoring in business, non-western art history, and human physiology to still give the five years I spent on pre-med some credit.
What started as a playful experiment became our signature party ritual.
By the end of the year, the poster board had become a full-blown canvas couch—yes, we wrote on the actual furniture—and we burned it as an end-of-year sendoff. But that’s another story.
My mother used to say: “You shouldn’t talk about drinking in your work, it makes you look bad…”
Welp! Now it’s a damn empire, lady.
Espresso martinis are kind of my signature thing, and my people love them & me!.
Lesson? Don’t always listen to what your mom says.
So there I was, leading The Persona Collective, sharing this iconic time in my life—this raw, unfiltered, truth-telling time—and something lit up inside me.
I told the group: “Everyone grab a Sharpie.”
Because honestly? Everyone should have a Sharpie on their desk. To write bold statements. To make declarations. (But that’s a point for another time.)
Empowered by these memories, I asked my group:
What is the one thing your persona would say to you if you’d just listen?
That thing that whispers like a ghost and scares you with how true it is?
“Find a spot—anywhere in your home or office,” I said. “A wall, a table, whatever. And write it boldly. Write that message to yourself as your iconic self.”
The energy in the group shifted. You could feel it. The charge. The mischief. The moment.
I went first. I picked up a gold Sharpie from my desk and wrote, in all caps, on the wall:
I Choose Me
Then I turned my camera and let them see my DIY graffiti art and said:
“I am so fucking tired of playing small.
Of dimming my light.
Of being passive to keep the peace.
Of being told I’m too much.
Too loud.
Too greedy for wanting more.
I’m done.”
“I choose me. In my flaws. In my limitations. In my dreams. In my desires.
In everything I am, and everything I want to become.”
“I fucking like me. I think I’m pretty legit.
I don’t think I’m crazy in the wrong ways… lol.”
And there it was. Uneven. Imperfect. Bold.
Like a tattoo on my wall. A reminder.
Members of my Collective gasped and cheered. “Yes, girl!”
Inspired, they grabbed their Sharpies and wrote their own declarations. One wrote hers above her mirror. Another wrote hers on the kitchen wall next to the fridge. One put hers right on the living room wall and said, “Oh dear, what will my husband say? lol.”
We were writing on the walls like wild women—and it was incredible.
You know that saying: “The writing is on the wall”...?
Yep. It sure as shit was.
Ever since, my mantra has been: I choose me.
