Stories.

My new “friend” Lucie.

I have always believed we are the stories we tell ourselves.

So if you want to change your life in any way, maybe the first step is finding yourself some new stories.

This morning I couldn’t sleep, so I did what any sane 68-year-old woman would do at 5 a.m. — I started scrolling on my phone.

(Kidding. That is actually an insane thing to do.)

But the truth about this morning’s doom scrolling?

Something beautiful came from it.

And I want to share it. Because one interaction with a 22-year-old woman living her best life in NYC may have quietly changed my life.

Dramatic? Maybe. But let me explain.

One of the things I loved most about my business and career was being surrounded by people of all ages every single day. Our work was passion-driven and sometimes incredibly hard, so we got to know each other deeply. I loved the tattoos, the style, the fearlessness, the way younger people embraced the newness of life.

It kept me open. Curious. Awake.

And honestly? I miss that energy. I miss being around younger people, and I’m going to find a new way to make that happen in this next chapter of my life.

I have been sharing this kinda of sort of. But let me just say it out loud. About two months ago, my heart was completely shattered.

Someone I loved deeply betrayed me, and the life we had together simply stopped. HARD stopped. It had to. I wanted a committed relationship, and he simply did not. And I was left wondering what was even real.

So my response was, again, what any normal person might do:

I threw myself a many weeks long full-on pity party.

Anyway, during this time of hating (okay, I don’t hate anyone but I hate his actions towards me) and missing "he who will not be named" at the exact same time — which is a truly exhausting emotional combination — this young woman reminded me how new chapters begin.

Not through magic.
Through motion.

Through her posts (and yes, I watched a lot of them), she shared that she didn’t feel good about herself and had never been a runner. But one morning she got up and ran two miles. The next day she ran four. Now she wakes up early, fuels her body with protein-rich food, and runs because it makes her feel alive.

It was never about looking better.
It was about feeling better.

So this morning I got up, put on workout clothes, made coffee, and now I am sitting quietly — well, writing this note to all of you — waiting for the sun to come up.

Okay. I’m not 22. I may not be running two miles anytime soon. But maybe I can run half a mile. Maybe that’s enough for now.

I also love rowing, so I’m going to buy a rowing machine and put it in the empty room I’ve been avoiding — the former office of "he who will not be named". And for fun, I’m getting a little trampoline too. My neighbors have one in their front yard, and sometimes my grandkids and I jump until we can barely breathe from laughing.

I think I’m going to rename that old office — the one haunting me with its emptiness — my “Get a New Life Room.” I might even put a little sign on the door.

There’s something about bouncing that makes me feel wildly alive. By the way, if you are in any kind of funk, go find a trampoline. Or a splash pad. Splash pads make me feel alive too.

I already lift weights, but I’m going to give it more structure. I might even hire a trainer to come to my house a couple of times a week. Muscle matters as we age. Strength matters. And I’m going to need more strength for this next chapter because I plan to do some fun solo travel.

First stop: New York City.

A place I love.

I’m going to take myself out on fabulous dinner dates. I might see a fortune teller and buy some new shoes. I’ll sit in Central Park and watch children and grown adults sail tiny boats across the water. While I eat some ice cream. I’ll eat homemade tomato and mozzarella breakfast sandwiches at Eataly. I’ll wander through art museums and tear up in front of paintings that stun me. I’ll find a little jazz club somewhere and stay out later than I should.

And every single day, I’m going to spend 45 minutes in a cozy little coffee shop or bookstore writing the story of my brand-new life.

Thank you for helping me close the door on my pity party, Lucie.

You are a gift to this world.

Seriously, go look at her Instagram posts and tell me if you don’t feel what I’m feeling. Motivated.

And if you’re in your twenties and happen to be reading this, reach out. Let’s plan something fun together. I’m ready to make some new friends.

Because this pity party of mine is officially over.

Today, May 20, 2026.

And that thrills me beyond words.

OX,
Robbin

P.S I did it. I ran the entire length of my street! And walked fast for another 2 miles. Now I am off to get a healthy bit of breakfast down the street.