Raw.Real.Recovered.

I didn’t.

Wasn’t really my thing. 

I didn’t sit around imagining my wedding day or what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was too busy getting dirty, running wild, and dodging crazy 🤪 

But last year, I finally wrote one. A bucket list. A real, tangible, “ these are some of the things I wanna experience list. And honestly? It felt good. Like I was finally giving myself permission to want something more than just survival.

Here’s what I wrote:

• Go ax throwing

• Ride a horse under the stars

• Learn how to shoot a bow and arrow correctly

• Learn how to shoot a gun

• Learn how to ride a motorcycle

• Go four-wheeling

• Build furniture out of wood with no screws (because apparently, I like a challenge)

• Skydive (why not?) guaranteed to throw up

• Make an effective herbal medicine

• Study human behavior (because people are weird, and I need answers)

• Go muddying

• Learn a stupid TikTok dance (and hate every second of it)

• Start a podcast (in progress—stay tuned) when I learn to do it afraid

• Have a cute movie date in the back of a pickup truck

• Wreck a splatter room (because throwing paint at walls sounds therapeutic)

• Learn a different language (probably bad words first)

• Write a book (one that makes people feel something)

• Raise only halfway fucked-up kids (because perfection is unrealistic)

• Go to a fancy-ass tea party (Bridgerton looked really cool)

• Visit Ireland (with my handsome Irish man, kiss a rock, the usual)

• Learn to make my own clothes (everything I love is expensive, and I’ve always thought it was cool to be self-sustaining)

Why Write It Down?

I like keeping little notes in my phone—snapshots of where I was at a certain point in my life. They remind me of what I wanted, what I was feeling, and how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I look back and think, damn, I really did that. Other times, I laugh because I was clearly delusional about how much free time I’d have.

But that’s the thing about dreams. They aren’t always practical. They aren’t always urgent. But they matter.

I spent so much of my life just trying to make it to tomorrow that I never let myself think about the things that would make me happy. I never thought about what I actually wanted. Now? I do.

So, here’s my challenge to you: Write your list. It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small, if it makes sense or seems impossible. Just write it. Because when you stop living just to survive and start living with intention, things start changing.

And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll be ax-throwing, tea-drinking, motorcycle-riding badasses together.

One dream at a time.