Stand in your light

October is my favorite month of the year.

It’s my birthday month, and the weather is almost always great. (Except last year, when I was determined to go to the beach at dawn to see the sunrise, and it rained.)

The week of my birthday will also, now and forever, be the anniversary of the publication of my book.

It’s been three years since Girl in the Spotlight was born, and in some ways, it does feel like three years have passed. A lot has happened in those three years. But some moments feel like they happened yesterday.

I was a guest on a podcast over the summer, and they asked about my book launch party and what it took to plan and pull off a big event.

I said it was one of those rare moments that turned out exactly like I imagined: when I stood in front of an audience, in my yellow dress, looking out and seeing the faces of everyone who came out on a Thursday, at the end of a long workday, to celebrate, to cheer me on, to learn more about my story and why it felt important to share. Some who came were writers and aspiring authors themselves.

It’s really something to feel surrounded by love, curiosity, and support.

That scene was similar to one in my book, when I was four years old, wearing my yellow nightgown, standing next to a 45 record player that looked like a toy jukebox, and serenading my mom and grandparents to “Cold as Ice” by Foreigner.

What I remember about that moment was my natural inclination to perform, to express myself, but more specifically, the smiles on their faces. In my mind’s eye, my mom and grandparents were glowing. The spotlight wasn’t on me; it was on them.

I understand something now, something I didn’t fully understand as a child, and later when I was a young television journalist, on the rise in a very competitive field, when the spotlight was on me literally every day.

Without connection, the spotlight is meaningless to me.

Connection, that feeling of love and belonging, was what I was chasing all along.

Connection comes from giving and sharing the truest, most authentic parts of ourselves, and from others receiving and returning that energy. It doesn’t have to be returned in the exact same way; there’s no scorecard. But connection is a two-way street.

Connection is felt, not seen. And it’s not something we have to chase. The opportunities to connect are all around.

When we stand in our own light, it illuminates our path—and the paths of those around us, too. And when we’re feeling dark inside, we can stand in someone else’s light.