Defying Gravity

choosing yourself, even when the world doesn't understand

Last night, I watched Wicked, and for two hours, I cried like my heart was on fire. Seeing Elphaba’s story unfold—her decision to stand up for what’s right, even when it made her a villain in the eyes of others—felt so fucking familiar to me. This is a musical that has walked with me for almost 20 years, and the story has been a boon for me in some of my most difficult moments. If you’ve been here for a little while, you know that I’m in the process of writing my memoir “I’m Glad I Didn’t Die” and the most potent story in that book is going to be the moment that I chose myself, I chose to fly. And almost no one in my life understood at the time.

As the lyrics of “Defying Gravity” rang out, it was like they were telling the story of my life when I left my ex-husband. The weight of expectations, the pull of what others said I should do, the fear of losing love that came with strings attached—it all felt like gravity, holding me down. I didn’t know what would happen if I left, all I knew was that I had to.

But something shifted. “Something has changed within me / Something is not the same.”

When I made the choice to leave, it wasn’t because it was easy or because I wanted to hurt anyone. It was because staying was killing me.I had played by someone else’s rules for too long, and I realized that the love I was clinging to “came at much too high a cost.”

Leaving was terrifying. It felt like leaping off a cliff into the unknown. Everyone had an opinion—friends, family, the church community I’d grown up in. Many thought I was selfish. Wicked. I was told I was hurting people, destroying lives, leaving my children. None of that was true.

And yet, I couldn’t stay.

In that moment, I didn’t know what freedom would look like. I just knew I needed to try. To trust my instincts. To leap.

When Elphaba sings, “So if you care to find me, look to the western sky / As someone told me lately, 'Everyone deserves the chance to fly,'” it hit me so hard I could barely breathe. Everyone deserves the chance to fly. Everyone. Including me. Including you.

The most powerful thing about flying isn’t the soaring—it’s the moment you leave the ground, knowing there’s no going back. When you defy gravity, you’re not just leaving behind what holds you down; you’re also stepping into your own power, even when no one else understands.

I wasn’t just defying the expectations of my community. I was defying the limits I had put on myself—the belief that I didn’t deserve better, that my pain was the price of love, that my happiness wasn’t worth the fight.

And yet, like Elphaba, I was painted as the villain. Leaving my marriage wasn’t just seen as wrong—it was seen as wicked. People whispered, judged, and turned away. The loneliness of flying solo was excruciating. But at least I was free.

To anyone reading this who feels trapped by gravity—whether it’s a relationship, a belief system, or the expectations of others—I want you to know that defying gravity isn’t about escaping. It’s about rising. It’s about becoming. And yes, sometimes it means flying solo.

But even when you’re alone, you’re free.

And someday, you’ll look back and realize that the people who called you wicked were never meant to understand your journey.

Because they’ve never felt what it’s like to fly.

If you’re standing at the edge of a leap, I want to say this to you: It’s time to trust your instincts. It’s time to try defying gravity.

You don’t need anyone’s permission to fly. You don’t need anyone to understand. You just need to trust that quiet voice inside you—the one that knows what you need, even if it terrifies you.

When Elphaba sings, “So if you care to find me, look to the western sky / As someone told me lately, ‘Everyone deserves the chance to fly,’” I feel it in my bones. Everyone deserves the chance to fly. You deserve the chance to fly.

Flying isn’t about escaping—it’s about rising. It’s about stepping into your power, even when the people around you don’t understand.

Yes, it might mean going against the grain. It might mean losing things you thought you’d never have to lose. And it might mean flying solo for a while. One day, you’ll look back and realize how brave you were to defy the gravity that held you down. And those who tried to stop you? They were never meant to understand.

Because they’ve never felt what it’s like to fly.

So now it’s your turn. Leap. Trust. Defy gravity.

And if you need a safe space to talk about it, I’m right here.

xoxo,