A Note on Anonymity

Everything here is real. I promise. I’ll tell you who I am when the time is right.

Every single word. I promise. ❤️

Until then: everything I write here, I mean.

When the time is right — and it will be — I will step forward fully. I will tell you my name. I will show you my face. I will connect every word here to the person who wrote it, and I think when that moment comes it will make sense in a way that might actually be more meaningful than if I had simply introduced myself at the start.

There is a particular kind of trust I am asking you to extend, and I don’t take that lightly. In a world where so much is performed and curated, asking you to believe in someone you cannot see is a real ask. I know that. I’m making it anyway — because I think the writing either earns the trust or it doesn’t, and I believe it does.

I am a real person writing a real life. I’m just not showing you my face yet.

The cancer is real — I take a pill for it every morning. The divorce is real. The fifty first dates are real — I have been on them, I drove myself to every one, I got there early and had something in my hands before he arrived. The grandma who died during my opening night was a real woman named Betsy who talked to her rosebushes every single day like they were old friends who deserved to be tended to, and who flew to Paris to watch me skate because I was going to be on the ice and that was a sufficient reason to get on a plane. The journals I make came from moments in my real life when I went looking for something that didn’t exist. The midnight ideas, the creativity that went quiet for years and came roaring back, the children whose names are in the brand — all of it is real.

It means everything here is real.

It doesn’t mean I am a persona. I am not a brand character someone invented, not an AI writing in a human voice, not a ghost-written account built to feel authentic. I am a real person who is genuinely in the middle of a real life and writing about it as honestly as I know how.

I want you to know what this means and what it doesn’t mean.

There is a legal process underway in my life — a divorce, a custody situation, a set of proceedings that are not fully behind me yet. The wise move, and the move I have made, is to build this space quietly while that process resolves — and to step forward fully and publicly when the time is right. This is not about hiding. This is about protecting something I am building carefully during a season that has its own particular requirements.

I am in a season that requires some privacy.

There’s no photo of me here. No bio that tells you where I grew up or what I look like or what my last name is. If you’ve spent any time here you might have noticed the absence of those things — and I want to address it directly, because you deserve an honest explanation rather than silence.

I haven’t told you my name yet.