Hi. I’m LeAnn, and I’ll be sixty years old this year. I’m recently divorced after thirty one years of marriage, and happily single. My superpower is holding on to a vintage piece for years and donating it the day before someone wants to buy it off of website. I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve got no more passwords left in me - I can no longer think of eight characters with upper and lowercase letters, a symbol, a number, a hieroglyph, a haiku, and an algebraic equation, or find a drop of unicorn blood to meet the requirements. I’m also done with speaking butterfly language to caterpillar people. And I don’t mean to brag or make anyone envious but… I can still fit into the earrings I wore in college.

Within the issues of CuratedChaos Magazine I’ll be writing on topics revolving around my status as a multiple-hyphenate creative and the businesses I’ve established around those interests . I live with my two adult kids who help me take care of their Grandmother, so they’ll be topics of conversation, as well.  Hey babes, if I forget to tell you both… I had a really great time being your Mama. Oh, and as mentioned above, I’m the primary caregiver for my ninety three year old, bedridden Mom, who has Lewy Body dementia but also has an impressive ability to make me laugh uncontrollably (think snot bubbles and milk) and occasionally push my buttons from her swanky adjustable bed in the bedroom down the hall.

For most of my life, I’ve been a “give it my all” kind of person. But lately? I’ve downgraded to “give it my some.” And you know what? That’s okay. Giving it my some means I can still show up, even if some days feel more like the universe set out a buffet of challenges and I filled my plate twice—plus dessert. I figure it still counts as progress because I keep reminding myself what Pablo Casals, the legendary cellist, once said when asked why he still practiced at ninety—“Because I think I’m making progress.”

Not everything feels like progress, though. But I’m learning to respond to my own little brand of “CuratedChaos” without losing my mind (or my phone). I’ve stopped RSVPing to every argument I’m invited to because, honestly, I’m too tired to bring a casserole of rage to every battle.

If my life were a highlight reel, it would be a mashup of poorly made decisions punctuated by extraordinary moments of motherhood and business successes —and possibly one or two DIY projects I’d like to forget. But here’s the thing—I’m still here. I’m still trying. And I’m still learning from every meltdown, misstep, and boundary I didn’t defend well enough.

So if you’re reading this and thinking that it’s time for your second act or perhaps you are feeling like you’re hanging on by a thread, maybe we can just knot our threads together and call it a safety net or enlist each other as creative accountability buddies. Progress isn’t always pretty, but it’s still progress.