Then came Rehman. Not as a whirlwind or a “when you know, you know” cliché, but as something calmer and deeper – partnership built on mutual respect, laughter, cultural curiosity, and a shared belief that love should feel safe. Loving him didn’t ask me to shrink or perform or prove anything. It asked me to be present (with him at Orlando Magic games and FSU games and EDC and Hulaween and in Bangkok and Cambodia and London and Red Rocks). We built a life that felt intentional, layered, and honest – and eventually, we chose to make it official. Marriage, this time, felt like an expansion rather than a promise to endure.

And then we moved to Denver. Not to start over, but to start aligned. Mountains instead of milestones. Space instead of noise. A city that encourages breath, movement, and perspective. The move wasn’t about escape – it was about choosing a life that supports who I’ve become. I’m still me: reflective, funny, loyal, curious. But I’m also lighter now. More rooted. And if this space ever was about anything, it was always this – joy as practice, life as it actually is.

Why Did I Do That?

I have no idea why I decided to run the Disney Princess Half Marathon (referred to as “the half” or simply “half” below)

Actually that’s not true. I saw a half Princess medal at a coworker’s desk and was like “I need that.” THAT is why I decided to run a half.

And once I signed up I actually got really excited. It was probably 2am some night in June when I decided to pull the trigger. The next morning I realized I had something to work toward, physically, that wasn’t a number on a scale. In fact, I had something to work toward that would make me stronger and healthier – and what I weighed didn’t matter!

Since I’ve struggled with hating my body pretty much every minute of the day, that was a new turn of events. And I embraced it!

Preparing To Run for Distance

In July I realized I couldn’t run outside in the heat and the treadmills at my apartment gym were super boring. I ran around P’s neighborhood a new mornings, which was lovely and seeing the sunrise is always my favorite time to run, but those weren’t long enough.

So I decided to join Orange Theory – and that quickly became the only training I did to go from running about 1 mile at a time to 13.1 miles at a time.

Then I became that person who talks about, thinks about, and plans around Orange Theory because getting strong felt AMAZING.

• And then one day I realized I was running a whole 30 minutes with not one break for a breather…
• And then I realized I was finishing a 5k in those 30minutes…

Sadly, that day came in late January – the Princess Half was in late February. So I had about 4-weeks to figure out if I was going to die when I ran outside and attempted to run 13.1 consecutive miles.

I was pushing myself so hard that I had shin splints all the time. My shoulder and neck muscles were strained and are shockingly important for running. My pants barely fit because my glutes and calves were insanely muscular. But I was determined to SURVIVE this half. And hopefully finish in 3 hours with a run-walk-run strategy.

Two weeks before the big day I went for a run around Lake Baldwin, outside, in nicely chilled weather around 7am. I ran…and I ran… and I ran… around twice.

I had NO IDEA I had just run 5 miles until I stopped at my car to grab some water. Like – RUN WITHOUT STOPPING.

The Big Day

The Big Day was February 24th – the 6 year anniversary of losing my Dad. My running buddy – who had not practiced with me but was also training in Orange Theory – came down with a severe case of the flu, I realized I would be running alone. And I was okay with that. Sad, but okay.

My amazing Sleeping Beauty costume got a last minute swap for some Cinderella leggings and an insanely expensive base layer and Patagonia vest at the last minute when Florida decided to have a cold snap. And I picked up a tiara to put on my pig tails for $2.99 at Target.

With the help of meds, I was ready to go to sleep at 8pm and wake-up at 2:30am which went off without a hitch until the fire alarm in my building went off and I had to pack up Jersey to head downstairs on a Friday night – drugged with a cat – to wait it out. But it was all good and I was READY, RESTED, and ON TIME at Epcot by 3:30am!

I’d never run anything official before so I was in the very last corral, which was fine with me because – again – I was aiming for a run-walk-run strategy.

But then we finally got going and I started running… and I kept running… and I passed mile markers 1, 2, 3, and 4 with NO problem so in the words of Forrest Gump – I just kept running.

Until juuuust before Mile 5 when it got SUPER congested and we came to a complete stop waiting for the hoard of people to fit through a narrow opening at the entrance of Magic Kingdom. I went off to the grass to get around some walkers and ever so slightly twisted my ankle. I LITERALLY thought “that could have been bad!” And I guess it was because I limped for 6-weeks after this run, but I digress.

Running through Magic Kingdom was pretty much the most amazing thing in the world. People were lined up and cheering. My name was on my bib so people were yelling my name and telling me I could do it. The atmosphere was just amazing. But it went by SO FAST and the next thing I knew, I was back out on the roads behind the Polynesian and Disney Golf Course.

Mile 6 came and went… Mile 7…. Mile 8… and by the time I got to Mile 9 I thought “okay yeah I can’t do this.” I definitely wasn’t stopping to take photos with the characters because I knew if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to start again. But I also felt my ankle getting worst by the second.

Mile 10 was possibly the most bleak period of my existence. I truly didn’t know how I was going to finish.

But then I got to Mile 11 and realized I WAS doing this – In fact, I only had 3 more miles to go and I could do those in 30 minutes on a good day!

I ran in silence for a bit to let my airpods charge in their case, kept sucking on Ice Breakers Winter Mint to keep my breathing easy. And the next thing I knew I was running through Epcot, in the last half of Mile 12.

And then…. I saw the end. I did it. I came up on this huge area with bleachers full of people and a big Finish banner and a clock. And I started crying as I ran through and got my GORGEOUS medal that started it all.

I knew the half would be hard and I knew it was an accomplishment but I didn’t expect to be THIS proud of having finished. I felt like I was on top of the world. Literally invincible. It was glorious.

And not only did I NOT have to run-walk-run, I ran almost the ENTIRE 13.1 miles and finished in 2:31:43 – coming in at 4,994 out of 20,492 people who completed the race!

And then what happened was…

I limped to my car, got home, and immediately crawled into bed. My ankle hurt but I figured it was just tired. And I had no time to rest because my sister was coming in to celebrate her birthday with 3-days at Animal Kingdom Lodge (a gift from me) and I had to meet her at 4pm for dinner.

YOU BETTER BELIEVE I WORE THAT MEDAL TO ALL THE PARKS AND ALL THE PLACES THAT DAY.

I limped around the parks, I limped to dinner, I limped to work that next week, and I was limping when I signed up for the Disney Wine and Dine Half Marathon in November 2020. And despite my love affair with Orange Theory, it was impossible for me to even think about working out on my ankle.

Then a Pandemic hit and my Orange Theory membership was frozen, my apartment gym was locked down, my daily 14-flights of stairs and 3mile walks at work were obliterated and here I sit, totally healed, with the skinniest little weakest calves in the world.

But it’s okay. I’ll start training again in June and in 6-months I’ll do it again. And here’s to starting in an earlier corral and finishing in 2:29:30.

It’s September 2018 and I want you to know that I am still alive, kickin’, and actually doing better than ever before. I am 100% happy and well. In fact, everything is A-Okay. I am the happiest I’ve been in a very, very long time.

If you follow me on social media you may have noticed that I went dark on Facebook in early January and with the exception of some precious vacation posts with friends, I’ve more or less given up that social media platform entirely. I can say without any doubt that removing myself from Facebook has resulted in an immense sense of peace. I have no plans to ever go back to daily scrolling on that site / app.

I took a long break from Instagram as well but decided after some time that I need an outlet for the beautiful things in my life and, more importantly, a way to see the most beautiful things in the lives of my dearest friends. And so in around April I ended up leaning into IG and it’s my social media home.

Twitter and Reddit became places of solace for me – I found tribes there that I needed and anonymity that allowed me to be raw and real, and share and learn. I’ve grieved on, and screamed into, the voids of those platforms. I’ve been heard by no one and everyone there.

But why…?  Why did I disappear after the trip to Europe last year?

Because, dear readers, last October (before the trip to Europe) I left my husband of almost five years, my home of the last nine years, my relationship of the last 15 years.

I moved into a luxury apartment in downtown Orlando and started my life over from scratch. New furniture, decor, commute. Same cat though… thank god.

Not all was lost or even awful.  We went on an already planned vacation to Europe in November. I hid the failure of my marriage from everyone – even and especially myself – for as long as possible. And he and I had many good times after I moved out.

But the ability to have good times was never an issue for the two of us. Arguably our ability to have good times was what kept us together long, long after we shouldn’t have been.

So, what the hell happened to my marriage? We were, after all, the model couple. Our wedding was the best wedding ever. What in the actual hell, man?

Well, there are three sides to every story, right? Mine, yours, and the truth. Some of mine is below – not as a means to justify the failure or point fingers, simply to convey a series of events that may help explain how two people who loved each other beyond words just couldn’t seem to make a marriage work. And hindsight is, after all, 20/20.

• There were unvocalized disappointments prior to our wedding. After 9 years together there were bound to be some communication gaps. I wish we had gone to pre-marital counseling to work through those issues earlier.
• But we got married anyway! And what a wedding it was! Ahh, April 2013…
• The “honeymoon phase” lasted about 2-months. And then came an emotional affair that lasted from July 2013 – December 2013. Our actual honeymoon cruise to Barcelona in October was an absolute disaster. All of my blog posts on the topic were so fake. We spent the day in Rome sitting on a bench talking about whether or not we should go home and get divorced immediately. I was emailing my Uncles on the very first night from the hotel Wifi letting them know I might need a U-Haul when I came home. I lost weight from being unable to eat the entire trip because I was so incredibly miserable.
• We managed to expel the uninvited 3rd party to our marriage and were in the process of forgiving and forgetting when two months later my Dad died and the entire year of 2014 was a wash. I basically put our marriage at the bottom of a very big pile of obligations.
• By the time 2015 came around, we were starting to get some semblance of a normal life together. There were festivals and concerts and trips to see friends through 2016. But somehow we were still fighting a lot… mostly about Vince’s lack of sleep, mood swings, and serious depression. I wasn’t in that great of shape either but my therapist was helping me expedite the grieving process over the loss of my Dad so at least I had that going for me.
• In 2017 I was on a career-high. An early August night I learned that I’d won the most prestigious award my company gives was the same night Vince hit an all time personal low. I got hurt in the fall out – physically – pretty badly.
• That weekend I learned for the first time the role that addiction had played in the last five – FIVE – years of our lives (before, during, after our wedding) and so despite having to recover from some physical wounds and some giant emotional ones I was so happy to think that just quitting drugs could fix everything that I decided to stay.
• Well, drugs were abandoned… but the emotional damage had been done. Trust, emotional safety, even physical safety were all beyond repair. But we tried. I tried.
• By Labor Day 2017 I knew it was time for us to get professional help. It brought me some small comfort to hear a professional recommend that both Vince and I get emotionally and mentally stable before pursuing marriage counseling. After years of working on my own emotional and mental health, I knew Vince needed to go on a journey all his own.
• And so in October, I left.

And by the following June we were officially declared divorced by the courts. Technically he divorced me but honestly it was the sweetest, most loving divorce I’ve ever known two people to have. We cared for one another and shared everything with love. There were no legal struggles or fights.

But still, I failed. My marriage failed. Somewhere, people might read this and laugh… or say they knew it was going to happen… or that they aren’t surprised…

I’m laughing again now – not at my failure but at my second chance at happiness and my new life.

I didn’t know it was going to happen – but I know without a doubt that it was the only way forward.

I was surprised – that it came to this and that I was strong enough to go through with it.

And so here I am. Better, happier, healthier – and way mother fucking stronger – than I have been in a very, VERY long time. I’m alone but not lonely. I am loved and supported by some of the most amazing people on the planet. I actually love my life, love waking up every day, love planning for my future that is SO full.

Everything is A-Okay, guys.

Love always,

• Alicia

The first service I attended was, fortunately, the once-a-month English service with a 15 minute silent meditation. Now, I thought I had a handle on meditating – after all, I have mala beads, I have mantras, I have had epic emotional breakthroughs while meditating – and I also thought I knew about Buddhism given how much world religion I’ve studied. But it turns out I had no idea what Temple or Buddhism or even Meditation could really be about.

• First, I was confused that this Temple was Buddhism,… in Chinese. I thought Buddhism was Indian? Tibetan? Mixed with Hinduism?
• Second, no one was using mala beads – I thought these were standard issue in Buddhism.
• Third, the monks were actually Venerables and they are all female (!?!?!)
• Fourth, we. sang. EVERYTHING. Like, EVERYTHING was a song. In English or phonetically spelled Chinese. And thankfully there’s a giant screen with everything displayed on powerpoint so you can keep up.

Despite a LOT of confusion, rapid Chinese sung in front of walls of ancestors buried in the mausoleum, almost an entire hour spent singing / chanting the prayers, and more bowing than I did at Catholic church, I left Temple that day in March feeling like my entire life was changed. And looking back, I now know that it was.

Which brings me to May 2018.

I’ve now been going to the Temple for over a year. I can’t say I’ve been every Sunday but I can say I’ve attended both the English services on the last Sunday of every month *and* a few Chinese only services. And I have done so much studying to shed myself of my ignorance… which I am excited to put down here on this blog.

• First, yes Buddhism is also Chinese. Thousands of years ago Indian Buddhists traveled the Silk Road to China to spread the Dharma and many lessons of the Buddha. When they got to China they found Taoism was so dominate in Chinese culture that the best way to explain Buddhism to the Chinese people was by using Taoist concepts, which ended up spinning off a separate but very similar branch of Buddhism in China that is strongly influenced – and even similar to, in many ways – Taoism. But the story of Buddha(s) is / are the same and much of the Dharma or Sangha is the same (from what I know so far).
• The Chinese-school of Buddhism is called Chan, Pure Life, or Mahayana and the specific school / branch of my Temple is Humanistic Buddhism which places an emphasis on integrating Buddhist practices into everyday life through humanism, altruism, spiritual practices as part of daily life, joyfulness, timeliness, and the universality of saving all beings. From these principles, the aim of humanistic Buddhism is to reconnect Buddhist practice with the ordinary and places emphasis on caring for the material world, not solely concerned with achieving delivery from it. (Yes, I borrowed that last bit from Wikipedia b/c it is succinct)
• The word “Zen” comes from Japanese Buddhism, which is different even from Indian, Tibetan or Chinese sects. In Chinese that word is “Chan.” But “Nirvana” is applicable to all sects / schools.
• Mala beads are also universal but they look different across the spectrum. Mine are decidedly Indian-looking.
• Indian and Tibetan Buddhism – Theravada – are BY FAR the more popular and widely adopted in the East. That’s why most of us think of India when we think of Buddhism, which was heavily influenced by Hinduism and explains why Ganesh or other Hindu deities are popular / mixed in. Or even Tibet (prayer flags, prayer wheels, singing bowls, etc.) because those are the cultures that, for many different reasons, have made their way East. In fact, I have had a really hard time learning more about Mahayana around books and the internet because Theravada is so much more popular.
• Humanistic Buddhism actually has the highest ratio of female Venerables than any other school. I, of course, love this.
• Meditation is SO incredibly important to all Buddhists.

I think the easiest way to explain my specific Temple and adopted school of Buddhism is like this: Buddhism is like Christianity. Mahayana is like Catholicism. Humanistic is like going to St. Mary Magdaline Episcopal Church (where I grew up in Coral Springs). Was it Catholic? No. Was it still Christian? Yes. Was it super close and we learned the same lessons as Catholics? Totally.

Which brings me to the topic of this post – I think I’m officially Buddhist now….

Steph and I decided to go to the April English Service together after not attending at the same time in awhile. A few days prior I got an email from the Temple talking about the Triple Gem ceremony but didn’t really understand what it was. I was planning to go either way, so I figured I could learn while I was there.

So after about 10 minutes of silent meditation, the Venerable started to discuss what it means to take refuge in the Triple Gem and went through an FAQ of sorts. Steph and I sat there in the dark shrine room and independently decided it was something we absolutely wanted to do – take refuge in the three gems of Buddhism: The Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. Admit past transgressions and, going forward, commit to learning, practicing, and embodying the virtues of the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

Does taking refuge in the Triple Gem mean you quit other religions? No. Does it mean you can’t practice other religions? Not at all. Does it mean you’ll go to hell if you practice another, non-Buddhist religion? Nope. In fact, “the idea of punishment by a divine power has been employed by religious cults as a means to control people. This notion is not a part of Buddhism. Buddhist faith is established upon our own free will…”

Long story short: It can’t hurt to take refuge in the Triple Gem, it can only help.

So there I was last month, sitting in silent meditation and having possibly the most life changing religious experience of my life, when the Venerable gave us the opportunity to take this first, and incredibly meaningful, step toward becoming Buddhists.

And, I did.

Steph and I bowed so much (and had such a hard time understanding when to bow that the wonderful Chinese ladies who attend the temple were helping us know when to go into half bows or full bows) that we bruised our knees. We took refuge in both English and Chinese. We chanted and sang and I clutched my mala beads the entire time. I low-key cried almost the whole time and my face almost broke from smiling.

When it was over, we got bracelets from the Venerable and we’ll receive official certificates as well. The next step would to commit to the Five Precepts but I am NO where near ready to do that. My personal next step is to keep attending Temple on Sundays, make stronger friendships with the ladies who attend and manage the Temple, volunteer for events, and next month I’m attending meditation classes led by a Venerable on Wednesday evenings from 7-9pm.

So yeah. I think I’m officially Buddhist now. And the ceremony was so wonderful and so meaningful and so pure that I felt like my entire soul had been reborn. I can’t wait to go into the world to find my Buddha-nature with compassion and empathy with others and the world around me. 

I thought about it – because I have a lot going on – but eventually said yes. It was a 24hr trip. One night. And I needed a mani / pedi baaaadly.

That text message chain evolved to a request for a fairly high priced ticket to get dinner on a farm. I was like “okay!” because at this point I figured “in for a penny… in for $160 dinner ticket…” and so I found myself wondering “can I wear Louboutins on a farm?”

I mean, when the farm looks like this the answer is “YES.”

So I drove down to Jupiter, finishing Tiffany Haddish’s The Last Black Unicorn on the way, and immediately made my way to a nail salon with Jen to get the color “Lincoln Park After Dark,” (Not representative of my mood or the dinner, but I love a good OPI nail polish name), and got this amazing board with Jen.

From there we went home, picked up Dave, and I slipped into a cute but very plain green romper, some gold jewelry, and MY BEAUTIFUL LOUBOUTIN DOLLY DOLLA’S!

And we ubered to a farm that, despite the photo above, was a LEGIT farm.

We walked by a pig pen, some neat rows of radishes or beets (I truly don’t know), and I learned the bathroom options were very nice porta-potty’s. But that barn… that beautiful barn….

First order of business was drinks – a strawberry vodka mint concoction that was amazing – and canapés that included potatoes with caviar, short ribs, and mushroom risotto.

There were a total of six of us who had purchased tickets but since we didn’t purchase them all in one pack, together, we were going to . be seated separately. At this point my friend Jen renewed her Bad Ass status by insisting that with what we paid for our ticket, they would absolutely be able to find a table for all of us – and they immediately did.

And that’s when the fun started. And by “fun” I mean a five course meal with wine pairings per course that was designed by several guest star chef’s for this “Master Chef Dinner” series.

The courses were perfect, tiny little portions that allowed you to savor individual flavors and were paired perfectly with an assortment of wines. I just kept collecting glasses and kept getting refills.

At some point I realized my drink-to-food ratio was significantly off… but I kept going.

There was scallop, tile fish, duck, new york strip, and the grand finale – strawberry short cake with a strawberry macaroon….

But by this point I’d realized I was sitting next to Mrs. Swank, so I took the opportunity to inform her that I worked for the world’s largest restaurant company and we WISH we were this cool.

The next thing I knew, my dessert came with a personally delivered bottle of wine to thank me and my company for our partnership…

The farm wrapped things up pretty quickly and I was so drunk by this point that I was letting basically anyone try on my Louboutins. So the group stumbled out – I never had to use that porta potty – and the majority of us piled into Luke and Brenna’s Porsche where they dropped us off at a Starbucks, where we were hustled into an Uber that got us all the way home.

I don’t remember too much after that… I know Jen and I walked the dogs and ended up laying in the grass, laughing hysterically. I know we were in bed by midnight (yeah I’m old). I know I woke up at 6am, still drunk and had to purge the demons from my system. I know I eventually re-woke-up at 9am and had to eat food as soon as possible. And I know the drive back home wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.

And I know that no matter what’s going on in life, I am one happy, silly, ridiculous, drunk. Because later I found this and realized I did this in front of the owners of the farm. Because I’m classy like that.