Hammock Time: “Choose Who Chooses You”

Somewhere along a country Texas road, between the whoosh of passing pickup trucks and the quiet pulse of hot wind, I remembered all the times I chased people who didn’t choose me. Not because they were bad people. Not because I was broken. But because I hadn’t yet chosen myself.

I used to bend, shrink, stretch, mold—trying to become someone else’s idea of lovable. I thought that was connection. I thought that was love. But all it did was carve me hollow. I lost people—but worse, I lost me. That ache, that endless trying, it was never about them. It was about a part of me that didn’t yet believe I was enough as I am.

This walk—from LA to NYC—isn’t just about miles. It’s about reclaiming every inch of myself I gave away trying to be chosen. Gertrude and I have carried more than just gear and snacks. We’ve carried years of emotional weight, untold stories, and a kind of quiet defiance that says, “I choose me now.”

And you know what happens when you finally choose yourself? You stop running after closed doors. You stop settling for crumbs. You start recognizing the people who meet you halfway—who see your soul before your resume, your stretch marks, your silence. Mutual. Whole. Honest. Love that doesn’t require a performance.

That’s what this journey is teaching me over and over: When you become your own home, you stop seeking shelter in places that don’t want you inside.

So here’s your Hammock Time reminder today: stop chasing what’s not choosing you. Start loving yourself so deeply that you naturally magnetize what reflects that love back.

Keep walking with me. We’ve got more ground to cover, more healing to do—and trust me, the people who are meant for you will show up on the road already walking toward you.