Lesson One: Saying it out Loud

If you’re reading this, thank you.

For some time, I’ve wanted a place to share my thoughts. If you know me, you might be surprised by that. I’m no stranger to opinionated social posts that get a reaction—sometimes a laugh, sometimes an eye roll. But this? This isn’t that.

Project 35 is something different.

It’s a personal audit. A choice to pull back the curtain and talk about the version of myself I don’t usually share.

And here’s the truth: I struggle with depression.

It doesn’t look like what people expect it to. I’m successful by most metrics—good money, a great family, a comfortable life. I’ve “made it” in ways many people dream about. But that’s the trap: it’s even harder to explain the emptiness inside when your life looks full on the outside. You start to feel guilty for not being happier. And that guilt becomes shame.

But I’ve learned that having everything doesn’t mean you feel everything.

The human condition doesn’t care about your income bracket or zip code. Depression doesn’t ask if you drive a nice car or post pictures of a smiling family. It sits quietly, waiting to convince you you’re alone in it, that you shouldn’t feel this way, that something is wrong with you.

That’s why I’m writing this.

Not because I’ve figured it out.

Not because I want pity.

But because I know that so many people feel the same, and are terrified to say it out loud.

We’re scared to be seen as weak, broken, ungrateful, or “too much.” At least I am. But I’m choosing to believe vulnerability—real, raw, unfiltered truth—is how we connect, and connection is how we heal.

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless, and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”

—Robin Williams

That quote hit me the first time I read it. Still does.

So this is my attempt to talk about the hard stuff. Not for likes. Not for attention.

But to finally admit that I don’t have it all together—and maybe give someone else the space to do the same.

Here’s the truth:

Being vulnerable isn’t weakness. It’s courage in its rawest form.

In a world where we’re constantly curating highlight reels and hiding behind sarcasm or hustle, being honest— and I mean really honest—feels radical. But vulnerability is what unlocks connection. It’s how we break the illusion that we’re supposed to be perfect or the only ones struggling. It’s how we unite by saying, “I struggle with that as well,” and knowing that we are not alone.

Brené Brown said it best:

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity.”

And it’s not just a quote that looks good on Instagram.

Studies from the University of Houston show that when people are vulnerable and open up emotionally, they feel more connected, build trust, and deepen relationships.

Vulnerability rewires the brain for empathy, resilience, and connection.

The irony?

Most of us are just waiting for someone else to go first.

So I’ll go first.

I’m not perfect.

I get overwhelmed.

I have days where I feel like I’m not enough.

I consume endless amounts of books and podcasts surrounding self-help, and still often feel helpless.

But I also believe in building something better—starting with honesty.

If any of this hits home, I hope it permits you to stop pretending everything’s fine.

To drop the armor.

To speak the truth, whatever that looks like.

Because you’re not alone.

And you were never meant to do it alone, either.

So say it out loud. You may help yourself and someone else in the process.