For much of my life, I believed I was the flexible, accommodating person everyone liked—who fit neatly into any room, adjusted seamlessly to every expectation, and wore the “golden girl” label with quiet pride – well, most of the time. I had invested so much of myself into this image that I convinced myself it was real, but the cracks began to show as I kept squeezing wisdom out of life. It wasn’t that I lacked good qualities or authenticity; it was just that this version of myself wasn’t whole. And as life’s pressures and truths collided, that carefully constructed illusion shattered. Suddenly, all my unfinished business—my raw edges, unmet desires, and unspoken fears—were exposed vividly in living Technicolor, not just to me but to everyone around me. 

Many times, I’ve wrestled with being labeled a hellraiser and hurricane.  But could they be happy ones?  Could these titles reflect more than just chaos and disruption – could they capture moments of authenticity and growth? The words hellraiser and hurricane held allure and accusation, an odd mix of pride and guilt. But the truth is, I’ve always felt a pull toward this paradoxical path that blazes with intensity and sometimes leaves a little chaos in its wake. This isn’t about being reckless for the sake of it; it’s about living with unapologetic authenticity, even when that means unsettling the status quo or stepping on the toes of convention.

For a long time, I questioned what it meant to carry joy in one hand and disruption in the other. Was it selfish to walk my truth if it sometimes broke hearts, including my own? Or was it brave—necessary even—to ignite the fires that lead to meaningful change? I’ve come to believe it’s both. Living this way means confronting the uncomfortable, leaning into the storms I stir, and finding clarity through the mess. It requires me to take responsibility for my impact on others while refusing to shrink or silence my voice.

In my journey, there have been moments of laughter that lit up entire rooms and connections that cut straight to the soul. There have also been stumbles—when the fires I kindled burned too hot, leaving ashes where I’d hoped for warmth. Through it all, I’ve learned that to be a happy hellraiser is not about inflicting pain but about radical self-honesty and embracing both the joy and the consequences of walking my own path.

I’m learning to balance this role—striving to bring more love, compassion, and growth into the storms I create. I’m also learning that it’s not my job to carry others’ expectations or to brew the tea that keeps everyone happy. That burden was never mine to bear. And in the end, perhaps that’s the heart of it: finding happiness in stirring things up, but knowing when to bring peace. It’s a stance that takes courage, tenderness, and a relentless desire to keep growing. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it’s the only way I know to live fully—and with all my heart.