Balance (A Guest Blog by Dawna Russom)
What does safety actually feel like after a lifetime spent fighting for freedom, autonomy, and the right to make your own stupid decisions? Maybe it feels like sitting beside a powerful river without fearing the current. Maybe it feels like finally being seen and loved. And maybe, sometimes, it feels like having enough room in your life to get really fucking pissed off about a crappy mechanical pencil.
Bare to the Elements
I spent fifty-four years learning how to protect my heart. I built walls, learned to stand alone, and eventually convinced myself I preferred it that way. Then Dawna came along, and somehow the walls disappeared. Now she's gone back to Colorado, the house feels fucking empty, and I'm discovering the other side of letting someone completely into your heart.
TooTall
I have a biker name now. Not one I picked, because that's not how this shit works. Someone else looked at me and decided I was TooTall. And somewhere in that simple act was something much bigger than a nickname: acceptance. I walked into a gathering as an outsider and left with a name.
She Stayed
She was supposed to leave. Instead, she read what I'd written, saw that my heart was hurting, and stayed. Just a few more days, but sometimes love isn't about grand gestures. Sometimes it's simply looking at someone you care about and choosing them. And I'm still learning what the fuck it feels like to be chosen.
When Ours Becomes Mine Again
For the last several days, this house hasn't felt like mine. It's felt like ours. Her deodorant is on the counter. Her things are mixed with mine. She rearranged our bedroom. And today she's going back to Colorado. Nothing is wrong. Everything is actually incredibly fucking right. Maybe that's why watching her leave hurts so much.
The Deodorant
Sometimes the biggest signs that your life has changed are the smallest ones. A garage door opening before I can reach for the remote. A little gift waiting at home. A second stick of deodorant on the bathroom counter. Ordinary things, maybe. But when you’ve spent most of your life surviving, ordinary can feel a lot like love.
One More Stop
If you've been wondering where I've been the last few days, don't worry. I was just paying the bill for my own life choices. Riding across New Mexico in triple-digit heat on a motorcycle with no windshield taught me something I should have figured out a long time ago: toughness isn't always about pushing harder. Sometimes it's about knowing when to stop for another bottle of water.
The Loudest Guy in the Room
Sometimes the loudest guy in the room isn't the smartest. He's just the one who can't stand being ignored. After one too many encounters with men who mistake ego for competence, I found myself wondering why confidence so often replaces capability, and why the people worth listening to rarely have to raise their voices.
I’m Coming To Get You
A perfect Friday. A new employee with a bright future. A Harley that decided it had other plans. Sometimes life throws a broken motorcycle, a tipped-over bike, and a wiring harness at you just to see what you'll do. But sometimes, buried inside the chaos, you're reminded what dependable love actually looks like.
False Urgency
Sometimes the most dangerous thing on the road isn't speed, bad weather, or distracted drivers. Sometimes it's the pressure we create in our own heads. One embarrassing mistake at a security checkpoint and one terrifying moment on the ride home reminded me that rushing to save a few seconds can cost you a whole lot more.
The People Who Earn It
Lately I've written a lot about people and institutions that have disappointed me. Cities. Leadership. Bureaucracy. Systems that somehow make simple things harder than they need to be.
Then my motorcycle broke down.
What should have been another frustrating experience became a reminder that there are still people out there who quietly earn your trust one honest conversation, one repaired machine, and one kept promise at a time.
I Wasn't Riding to Escape
For most of my life, I was trying to escape. Escape pain. Escape disappointment. Escape myself. But somewhere between dying, surviving, rebuilding, and falling in love, something changed. For the first time in my life, I wasn't riding to outrun anything. I was simply riding.
The Bravest Thing I Haven’t Done
For twenty-five years, I've fought battles at work, protected my team, challenged bad decisions, and pushed back against corporate nonsense. But lately I've realized something uncomfortable: the bravest thing I may ever do isn't standing my ground. It might be walking away.
The World Quiets Down
Last weekend, I rode to Colorado to see a woman who told me she loved me. What followed was a weekend of uncertainty, vulnerability, reconnection, and a realization that some people don't bring excitement into your life; they bring peace.
Interesting, But Not For Me
After twenty years of dating as a transgender woman, I've noticed a pattern. Endless texting. Great conversations. Coffee. Connection. And then the same conclusion: "interesting, but not for me." This is a story about dating, politics, loneliness, friendship, and the difference between sex and genuine human connection.
The Ones Who Find You Again
Sometimes the people who matter most aren’t the ones who are always there. They’re the ones who disappear for years and still find their way back. The ones who check in without being asked. The ones who remind you that you were never as alone as you thought.
Hurry Up and Lead
I showed up to the airport way too early, thinking I was being smart. Turns out, I just bought myself a front-row seat to human behavior, and a reminder of what real leadership actually looks like.
Where the Quiet Lives
The world goes quiet in the middle of the night. No noise. No demands. Just space to think, to create, to exist. Maybe that’s what I’m chasing on two wheels during the day, finding stillness inside the chaos.
A Night for Broken Hearts
Sometimes the deepest heartbreaks are the ones you can’t explain. The ones you have to carry quietly, because telling the truth would destroy someone else’s life. So you sit with the pain, question everything you thought you understood about love, and ask God why the tests never seem to end.