This is my journal entry from September 22, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
Thank God I wasn’t in massage school today. I really enjoyed having the time to myself, even though I missed my classmates and the rhythm of learning something new. Still, it was a relief to step back into my old life for a day. I woke up at 7 a.m., took the kids to school, and parked outside my yoga studio to dictate yesterday’s diary entry before heading in for a yoga instructor’s Power Flow class. Her teaching style was noticeably different from the other instructors—challenging, fast-paced, and exactly what I needed.
After class, I went to my tennis lesson with my tennis coach. I felt deeply grateful to be back on the court with him. His lessons are both a great workout and a steady way to improve my game. I gave him a copy of my book Author in St. Petersburg, where he’s mentioned several times. One of the other guys at the tennis club had already told my tennis coach he was enjoying the book, so my tennis coach had been looking forward to getting his copy. Moments like that remind me how satisfying it is to see my writing reaching real people.
In the parking lot, I ran into my tennis partner, who’s also in Author in St. Petersburg, and I handed her a copy too. I remembered writing nice things about her but couldn’t recall exactly what I said, and I hoped she’d feel good reading about herself. I always want people to be happy to see their names in my books. My goal is to speak kindly about everyone, even while being honest. But I know that sometimes, no matter how careful I am, honesty can still sting. Still, honesty has to come first—if my writing isn’t truthful, it’s worthless.
After tennis, I came home, showered, and made myself a big salad for lunch—lettuce from my garden mixed with greens from Whole Foods, chopped celery, and a crunchy vegetable slaw. While eating, I finished listening to Rachel Dolezal’s memoir In Full Color, which turned out to be one of the most powerful books I’ve heard in a while. Someone recommended it to me back in 2022, right after I changed my race and got canceled for it. I never finished it then because it was on Kindle, and I prefer audiobooks. Today, I finally figured out how to make my phone’s voice assist read the book aloud, and I was captivated.
Her honesty moved me. She wrote openly about her sexual trauma and the incredible public backlash she faced after her biological parents revealed she was born White, even though she identified and lived as a Black woman. She had built her life around that identity—teaching Black history, leading an NAACP chapter, and participating in protests against police brutality. The media frenzy that erupted over her identity was insane. All the focus was on her skin color instead of her actual contributions.
What fascinates me most is how society accepts being transgender but still rejects the idea of being transracial. To me, the logic is simple—either both are valid, or neither is. Identity is fluid; it should be each person’s choice. Ideally, we’d go beyond these categories altogether and see ourselves primarily as human beings. We could still celebrate our differences, but the labels wouldn’t be cages. Either everyone is free to define their own identity, or no one truly is.
I wish I’d read Rachel’s book before my own experience of changing my race. Her story gave me perspective and peace. I still feel a little awkward sometimes when I hand Author in St. Petersburg to someone—especially to a person who’s very liberal, close-minded, or Black—because I never know how they’ll react. Some people find my race change inspiring; others think it’s offensive or even hateful.
Today, while editing I Was Famous on the Internet, I revisited the day I announced my race change online. At the time, it was painful to be attacked so publicly and harshly over something that came from a place of love and exploration. Yet now, I’m grateful for the experience. Being discriminated against for how I looked gave me a small window into what others have endured for generations.
Rachel’s book reminded me that these ideas of race are human inventions—manipulations used to divide and control. Embracing fluid identities is a step toward letting go of that illusion. Her raw honesty about her life challenges me to keep writing with that same level of truth. She even named names, which reassured me that my own stories are far less controversial in comparison. I can see how much fear of others’ opinions still lingers in me. But I’m proud of how far I’ve come in facing it—and continuing to write, publish, and speak as honestly as I can.
At yoga and tennis, I ended up giving away three copies of my book Author in St. Petersburg—to my tennis coach, my tennis partner, and then, unexpectedly, to a fourth person minutes later. Within ten minutes of handing books to my tennis coach and my tennis partner, I got home and found a delivery waiting at my door: thirty-three freshly printed copies of Author in St. Petersburg from Amazon. The timing felt uncanny, almost spiritual, as if the universe were encouraging me to keep sharing my story. I even gave the delivery driver a copy, and she happily accepted.
I’m determined to give out as many books as I can, especially now that I’m getting positive feedback. On Friday, I’d given a copy to a massage therapist, who told me today how much she was enjoying it. She mentioned she wants to write her own book someday, which made me grateful that my story might help inspire hers. I also scheduled a massage with her for this Friday so we can catch up and I can get the bodywork that keeps me grounded each week. Ideally, I’ll have my exit interview at the the massage school right before that session. I’m thankful I can leave the school in a spirit of love and completion. I truly enjoyed my time there, but I know in my heart my future lies in writing—sharing knowledge and stories in a way that lasts.
Later in the day, I picked my mom up from the airport after she returned from my brother’s wedding weekend. We had a warm conversation on the drive home, the kind that reminds me how far we’ve come in our relationship. Afterward, I went to my new Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I hadn’t prepared much, and given the last few days, I expected it to be small—maybe just me and the woman who’d joined the home group with me last week when we first decided to start it. A few days earlier, one of my close friends with over forty years of sobriety had stopped by to offer us guidance on running the meeting, but tonight my co-founder couldn’t make it. I figured I might be sitting alone.
What I didn’t anticipate was how quickly listing the meeting on the AA app would draw people in. When I walked in and saw seven attendees—five women I didn’t know, one man from my old home group, and myself—I was stunned and thrilled. The energy was exactly what I’d envisioned when I imagined creating a new space for recovery. Several of the women shared how grateful they were to have a 4 p.m. meeting, saying it fit perfectly into their schedules.
At the end, I shared something that’s been on my heart: how so many of our desires—especially the ones that feel divinely inspired—end up helping others we’ve never even met. For more than a year, I’d been wishing for a 4 p.m. meeting because there wasn’t one anywhere in the county. My sponsor had told me he didn’t think we needed more meetings, and for a while I agreed. But today proved him wrong in the best way. My small desire to create something that felt right for me ended up serving others, too.
That’s the kind of ripple effect I hope my books will have. Every copy I give away is a small act of faith that my words will reach people who need them—people I may never meet. And for those who do meet me in person, I hope they can feel the sincerity and love behind everything I share.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.