Month: July 2025

Journal Entry

Chaos, Coffee, and Canines: A Morning on the Road

Reba Nietert

Traveling with dogs should come with a disclaimer: “Warning—may cause extreme chaos, laughter, and moments of pure panic.” Take this morning, for example. Picture it: 5:15 AM, a pitch-black hotel room, and two high-octane pups staring at me like I’m their personal sunrise. Thanks, time zone switch—you really know how to keep a girl on her toes.

I’d barely opened my eyes before both dogs were vibrating with excitement, ready to launch into their own version of the Indy 500 around our 500-square-foot hotel room. I’m tiptoeing around, trying to keep things quiet, but every paw thump and tail wag echoes like we’re rehearsing for Stomp. The suspense? Will we wake up the entire floor before sunrise? Odds are not in my favor.

Once I’m wrangled into my clothes, it’s time for the next challenge: the great outdoors. Except, plot twist, it’s been raining so hard I’m half-expecting to see a pair of giraffes lining up outside. The parking lot has become a small lake, and I’m wading through puddles like a contestant on a reality show—Survivor: Hotel Edition—just to reach the grass.

The dogs, of course, are living their best lives, zooming across the soggy grass with reckless abandon. I’m just trying to keep them from breaking the sound barrier or the property line. Photos are snapped, business is done, and I’m thinking, “Surely, the worst is over.” (Spoiler: it’s not.)

Time to head back in. Remi, my youngest, launches at the door like he’s auditioning for America’s Got Talent. Dakota, the elder stateswoman, tries to beat me inside—only to get her toe caught under the door. Suddenly, the scene turns into a canine opera: Dakota screeching, leashes flying, and me—somewhere between tears and laughter—trying to keep both dogs from reenacting a prison break.

At one point, Remi is locked inside, Dakota’s outside wailing, and I’m juggling leashes, guilt, and the creeping suspicion that I’m about to be evicted. I manage to calm Dakota, get everyone back inside, and—miraculously—no lasting damage. Remi, ever the good boy, is still tethered and waiting patiently. The dogs are loaded into the car, and I finally get a moment to chase down the holy grail: coffee. All this before my first cup. Send help.

Meanwhile, my phone is buzzing with texts from my husband and daughter, worried about my eye issue (which, by the way, is still a thing). I’m grateful for the love, but how do you even begin to explain this dog-fueled circus before breakfast?

And, of course, I still haven’t finished the contract I promised to send last night. I was so exhausted when we checked in at 11 PM that I collapsed face-first onto the bed. Now, I’m staring down a four hour drive to the airport to pick up the hubby and then another two-hour drive, running on empty, praying I can hotspot my laptop and work while my husband drives us home. 

But hey—dogs are fine, I survived, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get that coffee before the next episode of “Traveling with Dogs: Chaos Unleashed.” 

It’s not even 8 o’clock a.m. yet!

—

Have you ever had a travel morning like this? Share your funniest (or most suspenseful) pet travel stories below—bonus points if they involve coffee deprivation!

Inspiration

Reflecting Troubling Human Behavior – Analyzing Intent

Reba Nietert

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on a troubling question: What gives individuals the perceived right to speak with cruelty, to pass judgment, or to wield unkindness as though it were a form of honesty or righteousness?

Is it the culture we’ve created—one that champions “speaking your truth” and “using your voice”—that has inadvertently given rise to a kind of emotional entitlement? Have we mistaken freedom of expression for license to express without restraint, reflection, or responsibility?

We live in an age where personal opinion is treated as sacrosanct, regardless of whether it is informed, empathetic, or constructive. Somewhere along the way, the collective dialogue has shifted. We no longer seem to ask: “Do I understand this person’s experience?” or “Is my voice adding clarity, or merely noise?” Instead, we react—quickly, loudly, and often, harshly—weaponizing our perspectives as a means of control, projection, or defense.

What troubles me most is this: When did we begin expecting others to mirror our values, our emotional responses, our timing, our way of being in the world? And more pointedly—when did deviation from our personal worldview become a reason for disappointment, or even offense?

There is a vast difference between authenticity and aggression, between truth and cruelty. To communicate without empathy, without lived understanding, is not courageous—it’s careless. And perhaps, at its root, it reflects more about the speaker’s unresolved pain than the subject of their critique.

We would do well to remember: Humanity is not a monolith. The expectation that others will move through life exactly as we do is not only unrealistic—it is a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to be human. And when our differences become reasons for disdain rather than opportunities for curiosity, we all suffer a collective impoverishment of spirit.

Do better! Be better! (Myself included.) #selfawareness

Journal Entry

Rooted and Restless: On the Search for Connection, Intimacy, and a Voice of My Own

Reba Nietert

For thirty-one years, I have loved someone with an extraordinary depth—a love that has followed him across cities, states, and seasons of life. Each move was a leap of hope, a quiet wish that the next skyline or familiar street might finally fill that elusive gap, bring that missing happiness, or rekindle a spark from the past.

I’ve been happy to do it, truly. The anticipation of new beginnings, the challenge of building a home from boxes and blank walls, the adventure of discovering new parks, coffee shops, and neighbors. But as I sit here, at the edge of yet another “this isn’t quite it” moment, I feel a swirl of emotions: loyalty, fatigue, love, and—if I’m honest—a longing for something more rooted.

We learn the lessons of our lives through others, and our children are no exception. Watching them navigate their own relationships, sometimes stumbling over the same stones we did, I see the faint echo of our own missteps. It’s a sobering realization: we pass along our strengths, but also our brokenness, often without meaning to.

And so here I am, at 62, finally feeling the contentment of roots I’ve worked so hard to cultivate. I crave connection—real, authentic friendships, a sense of belonging, the kind of intimacy that comes from being truly known and seen. I wish I could say I didn’t need it, but I do. I want to live spherically, to have a voice in my own destiny, to be part of a community that doesn’t vanish with every change of address.

I love the outdoors, the beauty of trees and architecture, the pulse of a new city. But why, after all these years, can’t I just visit and return to the life I’ve built, instead of uprooting it again and again? Why must happiness always be somewhere else, just out of reach?

At this age, I’m finally questioning: Will one more move finally deliver the joy that’s been so elusive? Or is it time to claim my own happiness, right here, among the roots I’ve planted and the connections I long to deepen?

I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: I want a life that’s not just about chasing, but about being—present, connected, and heard. I want to belong, not just to a place, but to myself.

Inspiration

The Heartbeat Between Visits: A Mother’s Grateful Reflection

Reba Nietert

There’s a quiet blessing in the closeness of grown children—  

Not the kind measured in miles,  

But in the gentle sharing of stories,  

The casual texts, the laughter over dinner,  

And the way they still let me peek into their worlds.

I am grateful for every moment they choose to share—  

For the late-night phone calls,  

The photos of new adventures,  

And the simple, “Love you, Mom,”  

That lands soft as a sigh at the end of a busy day.

Yet, even as I watch them stride into their own lives—  

Capable, clever, carving out their dreams—  

A mother’s worry lingers,  

A silent oversight,  

Hovering over their struggles and challenges,  

Wishing, sometimes, to shoulder the weight

Or to smooth the path ahead,  

Even when I know they must walk it themselves.

There are days when the house feels too still,  

The echo of their laughter fading between visits,  

And I am left with a quiet emptiness—  

A hollow shaped by memories  

Of rebellion and mismatched socks,  

Of tea parties with teddy bears,  

And race tracks built from matchbox cars  

Winding through the living room.

I remember the moments of exasperation—

The slammed doors, the stubborn glares—  

But more often, I recall  

The giggles over spilled tea,  

The sticky hands clutching mine,  

The bedtime stories and whispered secrets  

Shared in the hush of night.

There are regrets, of course—  

Words I wish I’d swallowed,  

Hugs I wish I’d held a little longer,  

But they are outnumbered  

By the moments that brought great joy:  

The pride in their first steps,  

The warmth of their sleepy heads on my shoulder,  

The unexpected “thank yous”  

That melted the hardest days.

Now, as I look back—  

My life feels cherished, blessed, fulfilled.  

I see the tapestry woven from  

Small kindnesses,  

Shared laughter,  

And the simple, enduring love  

That grows, even when we are apart.

My heart is full—  

Grateful for every visit, call, and memory,  

And for the privilege of being  

A mother, always.

Inspiration

When “Speaking Opinion” Turns Toxic

Reba Nietert

1. The Psychology of “Speaking Up” Without Adding Value

– Validation vs. Contribution:  

  When someone speaks up just to validate their own opinion—without offering new information, perspective, or support—they’re often seeking affirmation or visibility, not genuine dialogue. Psychologically, this can be tied to self-esteem, social belonging, or a desire for recognition.

– Social Identity Theory:  

  People sometimes speak up to signal group membership or align themselves with a perceived “in-group.” This can lead to echo chambers or repetitive commentary, especially online.

– Cognitive Dissonance:  

  If someone feels their views aren’t represented, they might speak up to reduce internal discomfort—even if their input doesn’t advance the conversation.

2. Knowing When to Be Quiet

– Active Listening:  

  Research shows that listening—especially in group settings—builds trust and increases the perceived value of your contributions when you do speak. Silence can be powerful; it shows respect and allows for deeper understanding.

– Conversational Maxim (Grice’s Maxims):  

  One of Grice’s conversational principles is “be relevant.” Speaking just to speak (without relevance) can be seen as self-serving or even disruptive.

3. What Does It Mean to Speak Without Benefit?

– Self-Validation:  

  If the only benefit is personal validation, it may be more about ego than community. This isn’t inherently negative, but if done excessively, it can be perceived as narcissistic or attention-seeking.

– Impression Management:  

  In some cases, people speak up to manage how others see them—projecting confidence, intelligence, or belonging, even if they aren’t adding value.

4. Modern Culture and “Speaking Up”

– Social Media Amplification:  

  Digital platforms reward visibility and “hot takes.” Algorithms often prioritize engagement (likes, comments), not substance. This encourages more people to speak up—even when it’s not constructive.

– Moral Outrage & “Keyboard Warriors”:  

  There’s a cultural trend toward public displays of outrage or opinion, often detached from face-to-face accountability. This can cross into gaslighting if used manipulatively or aggressively, especially when the goal is to dominate rather than dialogue.

– Gaslighting vs. Speaking Up:  

  Gaslighting involves manipulating someone to doubt their reality. While not all online outbursts are gaslighting, angry, performative “speaking up” can feel invalidating or coercive to others—especially when it’s more about venting than resolving.

5. Why Is “Speaking Up” Valued?

– Historical Context:  

  Speaking up has been critical for social change (think civil rights, whistleblowing). Culturally, it’s associated with empowerment and agency.

– Misapplication:

  The value of “speaking up” can get diluted when it’s used as a blanket justification for all commentary, even when it’s unhelpful or hostile.

Summary:  

Speaking up is valuable when it adds, clarifies, or supports. When it’s just for self-validation, it can be performative or even counterproductive. Digital culture sometimes blurs this line, rewarding noise over nuance. The healthiest communication balances speaking with active listening, and values quality over quantity. In short, if it’s not helpful, it’s best to be quiet.

Inspiration

A Poem, “I Am Enough.”

Reba Nietert

I once trembled at the thought of rejection,  

Until I learned the gentle art of never turning away from myself.

I once feared abandonment,  

Until I discovered the steadfast companion within—  

A presence that would never leave.

I once carried the weight of others’ opinions,  

Until I realized they were but whispers,  

No heavier than my own voice,  

No more powerful than my own truth.

I once mourned painful endings,  

Until I saw them for what they truly are—  

Secret doorways to beginnings yet unseen.

I once hid from the fear of seeming weak,  

Until I witnessed the quiet, unbreakable strength  

That lived in the marrow of my bones.

I once shrank beneath the idea of being small,  

Of being unimportant,  

Until I touched the vastness of my own spirit,  

And recognized the power that was always mine.

I once flinched at the thought of being called ugly,  

Until I learned to see myself with loving eyes—  

To honor the beauty that is uniquely my own.

I once dreaded failure,  

Until I understood it as a mirage—  

A lesson dressed in disguise,  

A teacher in the school of growth and grace.

I once despaired in my lowest moments,  

Until I realized they were fertile ground,  

The birthplace of brilliance,  

Where transformation quietly blooms.

I once resisted change,  

Until I embraced its wild, inevitable dance—  

A reminder that nothing is permanent,  

And every moment is a fleeting, precious gift.

I once feared solitude,  

Until I learned the joy  

Of my own company—  

The richness of being at home within myself.

I once doubted my uniqueness,  

Until I claimed it as my greatest gift—  

The wellspring of my singular greatness.

I once shuddered in the darkness,  

Until I remembered:  

I am the light.

And I once feared life itself,  

Until I remembered—  

I am life.  

I am possibility.  

I am enough.

Human Interest

Confessions Before Forgiveness – A Real Story, Real Pain, Received & Given.

Reba Nietert

I settled into a beautiful therapist’s room—soft light, a welcoming couch, a sturdy chair, a credenza adorned with thriving succulents. This time, my therapist was a man. He sank into his reclining chair and, after a moment’s pause, asked gently, “What brings you here?”

I answered honestly: “I can’t seem to feel joy.”

As I unraveled the tangled threads of my life, he listened quietly. Then he asked one question that stopped me cold: “When was the first time you felt love from a man?”

I searched my memory and finally replied, “When I was 27. I had hurt someone deeply—taken his money, mirrored the ways men had treated me, and lied through our entire friendship. Yet, when I confessed, he looked at me with a tenderness I had never seen. ‘I love you,’ he said, ‘but I can’t have you in my life. You’re toxic.’ It was in that moment I realized the toxicity was mine to own. But it was his eyes—filled with pain and love—that pierced me. For the first time, I understood men could love, too.”

The therapist looked at me and said, “You do realize I’m a man, don’t you?” I nodded, a little uncertain. He continued, “You do realize that you hate men, don’t you?”

I sat in silence, the weight of his words settling over me. Here was someone trained to see beneath the surface, naming truths I hadn’t dared utter. Forgiveness—for myself, for others—would take years. The wounds inflicted by men’s actions, the demands, oppression, domination, slander, and judgment, still haunted me. I worked tirelessly to free myself from those patterns, but it unsettled me how often men around me failed to see women as equals—in friendship, in marriage, in sisterhood, in motherhood. I found myself asking: Why does this systemic entitlement, this pattern of male oppression, persist?

The roots of systemic male entitlement and oppression run deep, woven into the fabric of society over centuries. Historically, patriarchal systems have shaped laws, customs, and cultural narratives, positioning men as default leaders and decision-makers, while relegating women to supporting roles. These patterns are perpetuated through:

– Socialization: From a young age, boys and girls are taught different expectations—boys to lead, girls to support. This is reinforced in schools, media, and even family dynamics.

– Institutional Structures: Many institutions (legal, religious, economic) have long favored men, making it difficult for women to gain equal footing.

– Cultural Narratives: Stories, myths, and media often reinforce male dominance and female subservience, subtly shaping beliefs about what is “normal” or “natural.”

– Power Dynamics: Those in power are often reluctant to relinquish it, consciously or unconsciously resisting changes that would create true equality.

Change is happening, but slowly. It requires not just policy shifts, but deep self-reflection—by individuals and by society as a whole. It’s about unlearning old narratives, listening to one another’s pain, and intentionally building relationships rooted in respect and equality.

Questions a Man Can Ask Himself

1. How do I respond when a woman sets a boundary or disagrees with me?

2. Do I listen to understand, or do I listen to respond or defend myself?

3. Am I aware of the ways my words or actions might make a woman feel unheard or dismissed?

4. Have I ever assumed I know what’s best for a woman, rather than asking her opinion or respecting her choices?

5. When was the last time I asked a woman about her experiences with gender bias or inequality—and really listened?

6. Do I expect praise or special treatment for doing things considered “basic” in a partnership or friendship?

7. Am I comfortable showing vulnerability and admitting when I’m wrong, especially to women?

8. Do I ever catch myself interrupting, talking over, or minimizing a woman’s perspective?

9. How do I react when a woman succeeds or takes the lead?

10. Do I seek out women’s expertise and leadership in my professional and personal life?

Courses of Action to Reframe Thinking & Build Connection

– Practice Active Listening:

  Focus on listening without planning your response. Let her finish her thoughts and ask clarifying questions before reacting.

– Embrace Vulnerability:  

  Share your own feelings and uncertainties. Expressing vulnerability builds trust and shows you value emotional depth.

– Educate Yourself:  

  Read books, articles, or take courses about gender equality, emotional intelligence, and healthy communication. (Brené Brown’s work, “The Will to Change” by bell hooks, and Esther Perel’s talks are great starting points.)

– Challenge Assumptions: 

  Notice when you’re making assumptions about what women want, need, or feel. Instead, ask open-ended questions and invite her perspective.

– Support and Celebrate:  

  Uplift women’s achievements and ideas, both privately and publicly. Step back when appropriate and let women lead.

– Reflect on Power Dynamics:  

  Consider how your actions or words might reinforce old power structures. Aim to create space for equality and mutual respect.

– Apologize and Adjust:  

  If you realize you’ve messed up, own it without defensiveness. Apologize sincerely and ask how you can do better.

– Seek Feedback:

  Ask women you trust for honest feedback about how you show up in relationships and be open to constructive criticism.

– Model Respect:

  Speak up if you hear other men making derogatory or dismissive comments about women, even when it’s uncomfortable.

– Invest in Growth:

  Commit to ongoing self-reflection and growth. Growth is a journey, not a destination.

The point is, it’s important to learn, grow and improve with women you are in a relationship with. In the same direction. It’s important to be positive. It’s important to encourage. It’s important to affirm, because if you don’t do all of these things, you could find yourself very alone.