For way too long, I wasn’t really me. I was busy doing, doing, doing — doing what I was supposed to be doing.

There were those comments from family and community:
“Why complicate things with your ideas?”
“Don’t stand out too much.”
“Just do what everyone else does.”
“You’re an adult now…”

And so I did. And did. And did.

All those expectations and responsibilities piled on — and then I started adding my own stack of “shoulds” and “don’ts.”
All those layers hid my curiosity, my spark, that natural sense of wonder and play that once made life sparkle.

Because, you know, a “responsible adult” doesn’t daydream, wander, or play.
She focuses. She behaves. She gets things done.

But that playful, curious, adventurous part of me never fully went away. She was just buried. Every once in a while, she’d try to poke through.

I remember those little pokes —
Taking a side trail off the main path just because it was there — and feeling that little thrill of doing it my way.
Jumping into puddles and dancing in the (muddy) rain with the kids, and the neighbors thought we were nuts.
Holding a 400-year-old book in a dusty antique shop and feeling a spark of joy so strong I could almost fly.
My first solo trip, wandering unfamiliar streets, my heart doing a quiet yiddie-dee-da dance because I could choose where to go and who to be.
Wearing magenta and mustard together — simply because I liked the color combination.

Tiny rebellions from the “me” inside.
Little flashes of curiosity and playfulness that reminded me: I was still alive.

But then I’d tuck them away again.
Back to being a “good adult.”
Back to playing it safe.
That spirit — the one that loved to explore, to discover, to play — grew quieter under the weight of adulting.

I learned to contain “me.” To keep myself small.
To smile politely and follow the rules.
I vaguely knew there was that fire and imagination inside, but decided it was safer to keep it in check — a kind of submissive resignation.

And life went on like that.  For years.

Until life and a big “lifequake” (thank you, Bruce Feiler, for that term) collided — and boom. There were so many life changes all at once.

I desperately needed lightness. I needed novelty. I needed “me” again.

I had tried so many of the typical approaches — this therapy and that therapy, breathwork, journaling, retreats — and while they helped in their own ways, something was still missing.

And then, I found “me” through playfulness.

Not the “dance in the streets” or “jump on stage for karaoke” kind of play (though that’s wonderful for those who love it). For me, it was quieter — letting the curious, adventurous side of me poke out more and more often. And in bigger ways.

Bit by bit, I was expanding and rediscovering the me who had been hidden for so long.
And I like her.

She’s the one who says, “Ooh, that looks fun — let’s try it”
or “Yeah, why not?”
and sometimes, “Whoa… but I’m willing to give it a go.”

She’s the one who’s brought excitement, adventure, laughter, and meaning back into this new phase of life.
She’s the one who gets me up every morning, eager to see what the day will bring.

I’m expanding — new friends, new conversations, new interests, new adventures, new hobbies: watercoloring, backpacking in Guatemala, making matcha ice cream, sunrise walks on the beach. And all sorts of mini and marvelous moments — the “that was wonderful, I’d do that again” kind, and the messy, “well… that’ll make an interesting story” kind.

I am me again. No — actually, I’m a new me.
Older and a little softer. Wiser and a lot freer.
More adventurous, more curious, more alive to the small magic in everyday life.
More excited to see what unfolds next.
And more willing to say yes — and to laugh when things don’t go as planned.

Along the way, something unexpected happened:
Through these little explorations — these playful, curious stretches — I started strengthening muscles I didn’t even realize had weakened.

Resilience.
Flexibility.
Confidence.
Innovativeness.
Joy.

Turns out, the more I followed curiosity and play, the more grounded and strong I actually became — in every part of my life: family, friendships, community involvement, even work.

My hope for you is that you, too, get to play with the you inside — the one who’s curious, playful, and still waiting to stretch and shine.

That’s why I created Plex — a fusion of playfulness and self-expansion.
It’s a playful, powerful way to stretch beyond the ordinary and bring more life into life.
It’s about saying yes to experiences that expand you — and learning to meet yourself with curiosity and compassion along the way.

Through Plex, we explore how to live more playfully and expansively — one small stretch, one tiny “what if…” at a time.
Together, we can uncover the you inside again — give her the courage to poke out, to play, to rediscover what lights you up.
To connect you to others, to new ideas, new adventures, and to the parts of yourself you thought were long gone.

That’s what Plex is all about: having someone beside you to help notice what excites you, suggest the next “why not?”, and cheer you on as you explore in ways you didn’t think were possible.

Let’s Plex together.