Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Caroline Peterson

Not Your Average Gal: Katie from Teranga Market

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Not Your Average Gals are kickass, blazing-their-own-path, independent-minded, free-thinking, kind-hearted and all around wonderful humans beings. We learn a lot about ourselves from the people we choose to look to for inspiration or friendship. I’m excited to introduce you to some of them.

Meet Katie of Teranga Market. I know Katie because our husbands are breaking free from the perils of an Emergency Medicine residency in less than 3 weeks.

I mean, I know her because our husbands both chose Emergency Medicine as their speciality and we get to hear the gross stories when they come home.

I mean, I know her because our husbands are in the same residency class in their 4-year Emergency Medicine program.

There, fixed it.

Since doctors aren’t known for their social prowess, I didn’t get to hang out with Katie as much as I’d like in the couple years that I’ve been back in Michigan. But, that said, the times we have hung out, we’ve hit it off like two writers who are silently judging your poor communication skills.

She’s a world traveler that can effortlessly tell a captivating story that has you both laughing and questioning your own story telling abilities.

When I saw she owned Teranga Market, whose tagline is, “Ending the cycle of poverty one scrunchie at a time,” I knew I had to ask her more because she’s certainly Not Your Average Gal.

Katie in 2009 during her first study abroad experience in Tours, France.
Hiking, wine, and discovery galore.

Katie Colpaert Allen
TerangaMarket, Owner

What's your passion—the thing that makes you a Not Your Average Gal?

I’m passionate about how travel and engaging meaningfully in “otherness” has the power to transform our minds, hearts, and lives. Since my very first international experience, I’ve been hooked to the growth, adventure, and powerful human connections that come from putting yourself in the way of difference and discomfort. The places I’ve chosen to plant myself (for up to a year at a time) are what make people categorize me as, to use their words, “weird,” “reckless,” “crazy,” or – if you’re a member of my very polite family – “different.” Some of those places include Saudi Arabia, Senegal (in West Africa), and a mostly-ignored small town in eastern France. I’ve traveled to over 30 countries total.

When did you start this passion?

There are several crystal clear moments I can remember that kindled my curiosity about the world outside of my small (and insular) hometown. Both occurred in middle school (when many of us begin our first round of existential crises, am I right?) The first moment was when I was sitting at my desk in class with a listless energy that only a pre-teen girl can exude, resting my head in my hands and vaguely eavesdropping on the girls sitting behind me. They were talking about an upcoming school dance, what they would wear, what boys they hoped would ask them out. I remember thinking, This again? Is this all there is? Why is everybody always talking about the same things? Why does everybody DO the same things? Do we all just go through life following some checklist where we go to school, get jobs, get married, have kids, and die, regretting the shade of pink we chose for our Snowcoming outfit in 7th grade? There has GOT to be more than this.

My world was really, really small at the time, and I was suffocating in it, but I didn't know yet what else was out there.

Fast forward a few months. A handful of students were crowded around a classmate who had just returned from a summer trip to Kenya (which, I should point out, is when I learned “Africa” was not a country). They were looking at photos of exotic-looking trees, huge mountains, and people who looked different from anyone I’d ever seen. As she described the trip, something cracked wide-open in me. I suddenly realized that I was not bound to a life that others before me had deemed “normal,” that I could choose or create my own path in life. For a 12-year-old mind, ripe and ready for learning, this was monumentally life-changing. Isn’t it incredible with just an ounce of exposure to difference can do to someone?

Over the next decade, I dove into learning about other countries, languages, and cultures. I became obsessed with Senegal when it got all of a paragraph in my French textbook freshman year. I couldn’t believe that a country in Africa was French-speaking! What else was out there that I didn’t know about? I couldn’t wait to graduate high school and get out of Dodge to start seeing and experiencing things for myself.

Little did I know then that the foundation had been set down for all that was to come over the next 20 years, including what led me to starting Teranga Market.

In 2014, Katie spent a year in Saudi Arabia teaching at a university for Health Sciences in Riyadh.

What lead you to your current path? (What was your previous job or background or experience that got you to where you are today?) 

When I finally escaped – I mean graduated – from high school, I lived life at 100 miles per hour for the next seven years, trying to see and experience as much of life as I could. I thrived in college, away from home for the first time, where I absorbed new information and ideas like a sponge, where I met people from all over the world, and where I felt like I belonged in a way I never had up until that point in my life. I studied for a summer in France, a semester in Senegal, and I spent a year in France after graduating working as a language assistant. During that time, I traveled to every surrounding country that I could. With every experience, my mind stretched and grew and would never return to what it had been before. And I wanted more.

I knew that whatever I was going to do in the “real world” after this, I needed it to include these mind-stretching elements – travel, language, culture, diversity, growth. I was fortunate to have spent 18 months during undergrad volunteering at a local refugee development center, and it's where I realized I could combine my interests and passions while doing something that served others, something that I knew I wanted in my work but didn't know what that would look like until I got that hands-on experience.

In the end, I ended up getting my Master's degree in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) because it would allow me to combine my passions as well as work in a role that served others. I got my first job in Saudi Arabia after graduate school, and after that year, I came back to Michigan and have spent the last six years teaching various subjects at several universities. I even spent two years in a non-teaching role that had me traveling internationally for more than two months per year across 20 countries.

In 2012, on her second trip to Senegal to attend Anne-Marie’s wedding as her witness.

During those 10 years, I stayed in close touch with a woman I met in Senegal named Anne-Marie who had become my best friend. When I left at the end of my study abroad program, I promised her I'd come back to attend her wedding, which I ended up doing three years later. Despite being on the other side of the world, she was always there for me when I needed her over the years, even as my French began to deteriorate from disuse; she could always understand me no matter how much I mixed up my verb tenses.

So, when life handed her a rough hand in 2018, I racked my brain for ways I could help. Long story short, despite having zero “qualifications,” I proposed that we start a business together that would allow her to work from home so she could watch her children, earn more than her current job at $7 for a grueling ten-hour day, and have things like medical benefits, maternity leave, retirement savings, professional development, and education benefits for her kids.

She enthusiastically agreed.

Many years before, Anne-Marie had wanted to become a seamstress. So, we revived that dream, set her up with a professional-grade sewing machine, and she set to teaching herself how to make all sorts of things (headbands, purses, skirts – you name it, and she'll figure out how to make it). While I was still working full-time, I'd spend what time I could discussing ideas with her, receiving small shipments and trying my hand at weekend craft shows or farmer's markets to sell her items. There, I quickly learned that I might have a place in all of this that I hadn't previously expected. I found that I not only loved being able to help my friend, but also teaching people about Senegal, sharing about the languages and culture there, and about the meaning of “Teranga,” which is Wolof for “hospitality,” something the Senegalese are famous for, and a word that also represents the human warmth they are equally known for.

In 2018, Katie’s work happily had her in Senegal for 48 hours, and it was the first time she got to see Anne-Marie in 5 years. They spent it catching up and having their first conversations about Teranga Market and picking out fabrics together at a local market.

I soon knew that I wanted to grow Teranga Market to not only include tangible goods that provided work and a better life for my friend, but I also wanted it to be a marketplace of ideas and cultural exchange. I realized that it had the potential to become a space where I could combine and explore all my passions through language lessons, educational programming, writing, photography, and – dream big – small group travel to Senegal one day, as people began asking me about that right from the beginning.

Two years have passed since then, and I am just wrapping up my first month of getting to work (almost) full-time on Teranga Market, having just finished my last semester of teaching, and it's been a wild ride. Literally overnight, I went from being an expert in my field to an absolute novice the next day, figuring out how to create a website, ship items, engage people on social media, and learn business jargon in my second language.

It's been humbling, it's been scary, it's been the adventure of a lifetime – and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Do you make any income with your business?

Right now, 100% of Teranga Market profits go back to Anne-Marie. Those earnings from her handmade items are life-changing for her and will always go to her. As for me and my place in all of this and potential for future earnings, my goal is to continue building our platform and audience and ultimately publish a memoir about my semester in Senegal within the next 6 months. I'm also working on a series of children's books that I hope will help plant the seeds of curiosity and difference in young minds that I didn't get until I was much older. And that's just the tip of the iceberg!

Do you have a “day job” that is different from your passion or business?

I just finished my last semester teaching at the University of Michigan, which was about the best ending I could hope for to this past decade of teaching and working in higher education. I am still teaching some private classes online and might experiment with creating some content in the future (English for Comedy Purposes, anyone?), but for now, I want to give Teranga Market and writing my full attention since it's the first opportunity I've had to do so, and I won't be wasting it!

In pursuing something less than conventional, did you face any pushback from family, friends or even strangers? If so, how did you deal?

Yes. From the beginning, up until now, and all along the way. But here's what I would say to the many people who called me “weird” for wanting to study in Senegal or “crazy” for wanting to live in Saudi Arabia or “reckless” for going on a self-created 8-city work tour in Nigeria:

Thank you. Thank you for doubting me and judging me because it only made me want to prove you wrong all the more. It only made me stronger and more determined, and it fueled my passion like wildfire over the years. Now, I'm better for it, and I'm in a position to support and cheer on those who want to have similar experiences but who might not react the same way to your doubts and judgement. Cheers!

March 2020: just before the pandemic, Katie and her husband spent a week in Senegal with Anne-Marie and her family. It was their second time to Senegal together and Katie’s 6th trip.

What are 3 things that you've gained from doing what you love and perhaps going against the norms?

  1. I've learned that when people judge your decisions, it is a reflection of themselves, their fears, and their limitations – not yours.
  2. I've learned that it's never too late to start something new, or to start over as a novice after a decade of doing something else. You'll be surprised at how your previous experiences and skill sets will serve you in unexpected ways and allow you a unique perspective that others in the industry might not have and could set you apart.
  3. I've learned that authenticity requires vulnerability, which can suck. Yet at the same time, I've come to realize that I'm my own worst critic and many of the things I fear never come to fruition when I do end up putting myself out there. And perhaps most importantly, if my fear does come true – I've learned that I'm not only strong enough to handle it, but also to learn from it and be better because of it.

Tell us something about yourself people would be surprised to hear!

Let's see… I'm a pretty decent rock climber! I've been climbing for over 10 years and once had a full-page photo feature in the UK magazine “Climber” that a friend took when we spent the weekend climbing in the Saudi desert.

I also love making bookmarks and writing letters by hand.

Are there any words of advice you can offer readers who struggle creating their own path?

I would tell them not to wait for permission from anyone or anything to start doing what they want to do. In a world full of degrees and credentials and certificates, it can feel like we have to “earn” the right to do something. You being alive is all the permission you need. So start creating, follow your curiosity, and fail forward. Learn as you go, find your tribe, and let go of the perfect “arrival” moment for that book or business or side hustle because there isn't one. The journey is the reward.

Any favorite mottos or quotes that you live by? (You can list several!)

I've had a notebook of inspirational quotes for years that I flip through when I find myself in a “stuck” moment. My most recent addition is:

“Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do that. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive.” -Howard Thurman

Finally, these two quotes remind me to lean into the discomfort when times get tough and remember that that's where the good stuff happens (they're from the documentary 180 Degrees South, which I highly recommend):

“A friend once told me, ‘the best journeys answer questions that, in the beginning, you didn't even think to ask.'”

“…for me, adventure is when everything goes wrong. That's when the adventure starts.”

Be sure to follow all of Katie’s adventures here:

Bolding throughout article is my own emphasis.

Do you know a Not Your Average Gal or Guy?Give me the deets!

When Support is Faith-Based

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It was an awkward moment. As most of my moments are really. As I hopped out of my friend’s car and said goodbye, she asked me if I wanted to meet for coffee on Friday morning.

“Oh, I can’t. I have that support group I’m in.”

“The one for doctors wives?” she asked while remembering I had mentioned it awhile back.

“Yeah.”

“What do you guys…do there?”

I could feel myself itching immediately. The blood rushed to my face. I looked at the ground while I was grabbing my purse out of her car. I probably scratched my forehead, as I often do when I’m nervous and not wanting to lie but fear the truth may be odd to hear.

“We…support each other, you know? There’s a camaraderie in the loneliness of the long hours and dedication it takes. It’s, uh, faith-based. Some of the other women call it bible study. But, I don’t bring one. Sometimes I don’t get the references because I’m one of those heathens.”

Silence.

I continued nervously, “I couldn’t even tell you where my bible is.”

More silence.

“…I like it though.”

My friend had one of those cheeky grins on her face that she used to have when she’d come up to my desk at work and not say a word, which was always my cue to head out back for a smoke break at our awful entry-level ad agency jobs.

“Caroline and bible study, huh? Never thought I’d hear that. But, cool if you like it. Have fun at bible study!”

We laughed, blew kisses goodbye and, as any great friendship that has stood the test of time will tell you, didn’t blink much as we’ve watched each other morph, grow and try things we never thought we’d do 15 years ago.

Like get married or have kids. But, I digress…

When I moved back to Michigan, I joined the hubster in the throes of the third year of his ER residency. One in which some cruel soul thought it would be ideal to make the entire third year…night shifts. Not only did I have to reacquaint myself with living with him again, I now had to literally and figuratively tip-toe around our home so as to not disturb a grouchy, sleep-deprived, overworked doctor.

Even if we had been together 11 years at that point. Even if we had been married for 5 years. Even if we had gotten through medical school and, hell, living apart for two years. Nothing, I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the third year (of four) of residency.

What little life had been left in the eyes of the hubster after medical school, was sucked out by this point in residency. It was tough to digest. Living 1400 miles apart provided me a sanctuary from the everyday trouncing that it was.

You can be the most supportive wife in the world and still can’t comprehend what they see. That’s the most sadistic kick-in-the-gut part of it. We’re often relegated to the sidelines. As much as we may try, we can’t take care of them enough to wave the magic wand to make it okay. Those coping skills are up to them and them alone.

I was left with quietly putting the dishes way, running errands while he slept, cooking hot meals, making strong coffee, hoping he came downstairs in a pleasant mood and saying hello at 5pm.

I didn’t know if I would make it. I didn’t know if this was the rest of my life. I still had another year of residency left! I was sick to my stomach for the first few months. I couldn’t journal, meditate or scream into the abyss enough to make it better.

I didn’t have much support myself from people who “got it.”

It was awful. Full stop.

“So there’s this support group I’m in for wives or partners of those anywhere in their medical journey from med school to attendings. It’s a bible study. But we’re not overly preachy or religious or anything like that. It’s Christian based, but anyone is welcome.”

My friend Judy was telling me this across the kitchen island during our loud and fun Friendsgiving last year. She was the multi-tasking champ: feeding a squirmy 2-year-old in one hand, drinking wine from another and offering support to someone (me) who may have looked a little worse for the wear when she asked me how I was doing.

I’ve never been very good at hiding sadness in front of people I know will get it.

“I don’t know. I’m the least religious person you may know. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone with my views.”

She assured me that it wasn’t like that. That she herself used to be a regular church-goer, but left, as many do, because of certain issues that weren’t resolved in her mind. She told me she likes to ask questions. She wants to ask questions. She likes to hear what others think.

“Yeah, but that’s you,” I said. “Not everyone is as open-minded.”

She told me to just think about it and she didn’t bring it up again for months.

Little did I know, this was the gentle prodding I needed.

I say “fuck” a lot. I sometimes make it into a mountain of fuckity fucks, with fuckery and fuckalicious goodness if I’m feeling mighty fucking saucy. From just that alone, I shouldn’t be going anywhere near a church.

But, by January of that year I was at the point that I would try anything. Even a “bible study.”

So, on my thirty-eighth birthday, I walked into a room full of strangers who sat in a relaxed circle and nervously announced, “Hi. I’m Caroline. I just moved back to Michigan from Florida. My husband’s in his third year of his EM residency. I’m a copywriter. Own my own business. No kids. Oh, and today’s my birthday.”

I was welcomed with surprise at my revelation and a nearly unison, “Happy Birthday!” from a group of smiley, supportive women.

My previous church going experience didn’t extend much beyond elementary school after my parents got divorced. I was like many people I know: Christened. Christmas & Easter. I had opted for the Basic Christian package.

I had wondered if that would be enough.

What proceeded in the months following was a revelation (pun intended) for me in what is, very often, our own preconcieved notions.

I listened as women shared the very same fears I had when the hubster was in medical school, over the very same exams and boards and STEPS and residency matches.

I watched as women simultaneously rocked their baby to sleep while discussing the common threads of a challenging motherhood.

I heard gruesome, grueling stories of longer surgical residency hours than the hubster has ever had to experience.

I witnessed that faith may look different on different people, but the “we’re all in this together” mentality was the overarching glue.

I heard stories of woman after woman juggling a medical journey and working towards bigger goals that serve her, while putting faith in her God and family that it will work. That there is an end.

I shared that my version of God may be more spiritual and based on the universe and human spirit.

The world didn’t stop. The record didn’t screech. Tomatoes were not thrown at me. I wasn’t chastised with holy water and kicked out the door.

I was heard amongst a fierce group of women-warriors, even if our ideas of faith are different. Sure, I may not understand every reference, I may not know the bible at all in comparison to some, but I was met with an open, judgement-free zone when I asked or questioned or expressed how it may come across to non-believers or those who have a different faith.

While the common thread for these meetings is based in a faith, what I’ve taken from it is so much more than that.

We all have the same goals. The same fears. The same dreams. The same hopes for children. The same frustrations with marriage. The same love of the third season of The Crown. Oh wait, no, that was just me.

This is why traveling is so emotional for me, why it ticks so many boxes in my happy-heart list. We are so much more alike than we think. For fuck’s sake, even for a heathen like me.

I anticipated judgement because I have experienced it. I’ve experienced the nasty part of religion where it’s self-serving and judgmental and in a knee-jerk reaction, I painted a broad stroke that all of these faith-based woo-woo, ra-ra-shish-com-bah, Jesus-can-you-hear-me-meetings must be like that. For a person who knows that so many things fall on a spectrum, I sure wasn’t allowing much room for there to be a different way to practice.

So, I’m graciously acknowledging my own judgement too.

It may have been based on some pretty crappy versions that would give anyone with the same faith a bad name, and Jesus do I know there’s more out there.

But my fear of judgement shouldn’t create more on my part.

After nearly every single meeting I come home feeling a bit more grounded, a bit less alone. We are experiencing the same medical journey together, in various stages and versions. But the support is foundational and standard at every meeting. I often watch in wonder at these women who find such comfort in their faith. That unyielding trust that there is a path and we’re on it together, regardless of our differences.

Imagine that. Loving someone that may be different.

How very Christian of you.

Not Your Average Gal: Hannah from Eat Sleep Breathe Travel

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Not Your Average Gals are kickass, blazing-their-own-path, independent-minded, free-thinking, kind-hearted and all around wonderful humans beings. We learn a lot about ourselves and the people we choose to look to for inspiration or friendship. I’m excited to introduce you to some of them.

Ladies and gents, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce you to our first (!) Not Your Average Gal: Hannah Logan. I originally started following her on Instagram and then kept up with her blog on the regular because they are so incredibly helpful for travel. (Plus, you need to see her quarantine Tik Toks.)

As a woman who has been called nearly every name in the book because I am not stick thin, I admired how much she promoted just loving your own body, as you are. It gave me a lot of confidence to travel to SE Asia, where my boobs just laugh at the options for even t-shirts. Hannah is hands down one of my favorite writers and I’m so happy that you’ll get to meet her.

Hannah Logan
Freelance Travel Writer and Blogger
Eat Sleep Breathe Travel and Ireland Stole My Heart

What's your passion—the thing that makes you a Not Your Average Gal?

My two biggest passions are travel and writing which I have managed to merge. But today, when more people are working online and blogging than ever before, I don't think that really makes me stand out. I think what differentiates me from so many other young women in the blogging and travel industry is my appearance. Travel bloggers have become synonymous with white, slim, bikini wearing girls with perfect makeup and twirly dresses. Which is so not me.

I'm a plus size travel blogger which, in itself, goes against the norm. Plus, while I love pretty dresses, they don't fit my travel style. I pride myself on showing and telling the honest reality of travel. For every Instagram photo I share of me in a dress, I have twenty more of me in leggings and a t-shirt with a ponytail or a messy bun. I'll be the first to tell you about how gorgeous a destination is, but I won't shy away from telling you if the food made me sick, or about that time I missed the train, or if I was sexually harassed. I'm all about empowering everyone, especially women, to travel but I pride myself on being honest and telling it straight. Travel is amazing, but it isn't pretty or perfect.

When did you start this business?

I started blogging at Eat Sleep Breathe Travel in 2012; a year after living in Ireland, which was the first place I had ever travelled to. At first it was more of an online journal but somehow people managed to find me and follow along. Things just sort of grew from there. I started freelance writing in 2016; a couple of little things, nothing major. But it wasn't until 2017 that I managed to turn both freelance writing and blogging into an actual business. In 2018, I've actually started a second Ireland-specific blog (Ireland Stole My Heart) as it's my favourite country and the place I enjoy writing about the most. Two blogs on top of freelance work is quite a bit of a juggling act though!

Hannah’s favorite country, Ireland

Do you make any income with your business?

I do! Blogging and freelance writing is my full-time work as of January 2017, but it's not always easy. It's a lot of trying to find work and opportunities and then chasing down people to get paid. Sometimes I miss having a regular, dependable paycheck but then I remember that my wake up and go to work means sitting on the couch with my dog while wearing sweatpants and I can't really complain. It's not perfect, and it's definitely not easy, but I do enjoy it.

Do you have a “day job” that is different from your passion or business?

Not anymore (thank god!) but I did for the first few years. When I first started travelling and writing I worked at a national victim organization here in Canada. That lasted about two years before I decided I needed to move onto something happier. That ‘happier' job ended up being a professional cake decorator. It was fun for a bit, but I don't miss the long hours and crappy pay! That being said, it was a very seasonal job and I was able to take extended 3-4 month trips while working there. So, crappy pay and hours aside, it wasn't all bad.

What lead you to your current path?

I've always loved writing (I used to write stories as a little girl and read them to trees- not even kidding). I think once I fell in love with travel, writing about it just became natural. I enjoyed it so much as a hobby that it just made sense to try to turn it into my job.

In pursuing something less than conventional, did you face any pushback from family, friends or even strangers? If so, how did you deal?

In the beginning, absolutely. My mom has always been very supportive but I had a lot of friends who scoffed at the idea of me being able to ‘travel for a living' and have the ability to be location independent. But here I am. Just a couple months ago I went back to Ireland, where it all started, and was laughing with my old roommates. They remembered when I told them I wanted to be a digital nomad years ago and thought I was crazy, yet there I was; able to visit them again because my work led me back to Ireland. It was kind of funny, but it felt really good.

Portugal

What are 3 things that you've gained from doing what you love and perhaps going against the norms?

I've learned a ton. Budgeting and patience are two big ones. Nothing like the stress of having to chase down paychecks to teach you to be more mindful of your money! But I know that I'm not the only one who suffers through that. It's a bit of a sad reality for those of us who work online.

I've also learned to be more self-assured and confident in myself. It's easy to hard on yourself in an industry where followers and likes are so important. I think as a plus-size blogger this can be even harder to deal with. It can be so easy to look at a photo I posted of me on social media and compare it to someone who looks more “Instagram perfect.” But then I'll get messages from someone saying how nice it is to see someone who looks like them in the travel world and that makes it all go away. Yes, I do stand out in a world of female travel influencers, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Building on the above point, as a blogger and writer I've realized how important it is to stay true to myself. Again, it's easy to compare blogs and writing to others who may be more successful in terms of getting traffic or going on press trips and building partnerships. But at the end of the day we need to remember that working with brands is only beneficial when it's a good fit. I may not have worked with as many brands and companies as others, but those that I have worked with have been perfect for me. They see value in what I offer and love my story-telling approach and writing style. From working with Viking River Cruises and the Ireland tourism board to partnering with Canadian travel clothing brands and even being a keynote speaker at the 2018 Women in Travel Summit; I've had some pretty awesome opportunities.

Myanmar

Tell us something about yourself people would be surprised to hear!

Being a writer, most people expect me to have a background in journalism or travel, but I actually have a degree in criminology with a concentration in psychology. For a while I wanted to be a forensic psychologist. I blame it on too many years watching Criminal Minds and CSI.

Are there any words of advice you can offer readers who struggle creating their own path?

Stick to it. As mentioned above, I faced a lot of pushback but I persisted and it worked out in the end. One of the benefits of being stubborn! Also, don't half-ass it. I spent years harboring the same goal but it wasn't until I gave it my full attention that I actually started to really succeed.

Any favorite mottos or quotes that you live by? (You can list several!)

I'm a big believer of ‘You only live once' and ‘You can't take it with you.' So travel often-and travel well!

Be sure to follow all of Hannah’s adventures here:

Bolding throughout article is my own emphasis.

Do you know a Not Your Average Gal or Guy?Give me the deets!

Aloha! We’re Moving to Hawaii.

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Please note: This post was originally written at the end of February. About a week before our lives and the course of our future was forever changed due to COVID-19.

Months have been spent worrying about The Hubster’s life and those of his patients and my loved ones before considering anything else. The least of which would be posting about something exciting we’ve worked so hard for.

Truth be told, even with a contract signed, we didn’t know if we would ultimately get there. Unless you’re in the medical field, you may not know about it, but hospitals and organizations were canceling contracts for incoming doctors.

Not to mention, Hawaii is under a strict quarantine, it’s tough to find a place to live and maneuver the logistical nightmare of shipping our home across an ocean all during a pandemic—we just didn’t know if it would all happen anymore.

Much to the Hawaiian way, we’ve been assured for awhile now to move forward as much as we can as we’re still wanted and needed. We’re so grateful.

This week was the first time in nearly 2 months I smiled when discussing our future plans again; it doesn’t seem so bleak or farfetched anymore. I’ll allow myself the small pleasure of being excited a bit.

We may not know an exact date, but we’re still moving to Hawaii.

Check that off as words I never thought I’d say.

We’re moving to Hawaii.

Home of luaus, hula dancing, Mai-Tais, rainbows and enough mahalo-ing to make this Midwesterner’s heart happy.

And we’re moving there. We’re going to live there.

As I typed this I’m still shaking my head. I can’t believe it and it’s been months since we visited and the hubster got a job offer.

This starts the beginning of the end in a volcanic journey towards becoming a doctor. I couldn’t help it, guys. The Hawaii puns will be plentiful. You’re welcome to punch me.

So, let’s quickly recap for those new readers—HEY!

  • Hubster and I met.
  • Hubster went back to school, worked full-time and applied to medical schools for 3 years.
  • Hubster and I moved to Florida for medical school.
  • Hubster matched for an EM residency in Michigan.
  • We lived 1400 miles apart for 2 years.
  • I started my own copywriting business so I could have the job flexibility to move after residency.
  • I moved back to Michigan.
  • We went on many trips exploring areas we may want to live post-residency.

I just summed up 13+ years of busting our asses in 7 bullet points.

Suffice to say, there were a lot more sub bullet points below each. A lot of uncertainty. A lot of career shifting. A lot of tears. A lot of miles moved in-between. 3 homes. 2 surgeries. 2 therapists. 1 wedding overseas. And a partridge in a pear tree.

I’ll save you the details.

After exploring the west coast this past fall, from Oregon to California and then Nevada, we fell in love with Central Oregon. I’m telling you, I still dream about that area. I can see myself there, and more importantly, we can see ourselves there.

Cut to the reality that there were no open ER physician positions at that time and it left me and the hubster scrambling to define what’s next.

I’ve been pretty open—LOUD AND PROUD—that I’m done with the bitter cold and grey Midwest winters that last far longer than anyone wants to admit.

From the moment I started dating My Main Squeeze, to now-hubster, he always said he never saw himself staying in the Midwest long-term. We silently smirk at each other when he grovels how cold it is or how warm it is in our former Florida home.

But, there are creature comforts of “home.” There’s a pull to the certainty of it, especially if where you’d like to live doesn’t have job openings at that time. Especially if moving again and the fear of failure or not liking it lurks in your mind.

I get it. But, my close friends knew how frustrated I was at that point.

The Hubster slowly started applying elsewhere. Places we knew we may like based on previous travels: Arizona, Nevada, all the while keeping an eye on Central Oregon.

Believe it or not, we had Hawaii on our list from the get-go.


But, because we hadn’t visited there before, it seemed like a pipe-dream.

Cue serendipity.

Timing. No job openings where we wanted. A friend who recommended an ER group in Hawaii. An application sent. An interview scheduled.

Pack your bags, kids!

It happened in a matter of weeks, as most wonderful life adventures do.

We flew to Hawaii, then Arizona and finally Nevada for job interviews.

By mid-January he had a job offer. Several, eventually, in fact.

What has seemed like a lifetime of commitment to this medical journey, culminated with us blissfully smiling over cold Kona beers. Quietly taking it all in as the world around us became a murmur of submerged sound; ruminating and enjoying the moment while eagerly wondering what’s next.

THIS GUY just got a job offer.

It was magical.

The weeks that followed were full of financial benefits spreadsheets, entertaining discussions and a hankering that we both knew what the answer was regardless.

We have, quite literally, set up our careers, moves, life sacrifices and many margaritas for even the chance at an opportunity like this.


Him putting in endless hours studying, training, working and missing so many of the fun events all us non-medicine people look forward to, including sleep, and me leaving a cushy paycheck to start my own biz, which gives us the flexibility that medicine requires, among other things.

Which is why our decision to move 4,500 miles away truly boiled down to only living once. We knew we'd always wonder about an opportunity for adventures in Hawaii if we didn't take it.

Some of the best decisions we've made have been full of both fear and faith that things would be okay…and this is certainly one of them.


Excitement and fear can coincide together, in fact, I think they always should.

As scary as it may be, as many logistics that need to be figured out, as much as we’re going to miss our crew, Hawaii was saying Aloha to our hearts.

So, this summer depending on when quarantines are lifted and essential logistics allow, we’ll be setting up shop in Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii.

The group the hubster is working with values a work-life balance that other organizations may turn their nose up to in preference for the hustle culture. It was a welcome surprise. Something I think both of us could benefit from.

Not only that, Hawaii is full of some of the kindest, friendliest, most-mahalo-ing people around. We were enamored with the plentiful opportunities for adventures on the Big Island. Did you know it has 12 of the 13 world ecosystems?! We can drive up to snowy tops of mountains where telescopes are housed, and then back down through rainforests and across to the dry climate of the Kailua-Kona side. It was incredible. We can do anything from stand up paddle boarding to surfing to swimming to running (the Kona triathlon is run here for a reason) to zip lining to hiking to climbing volcanos to golfing to sitting on my lanai listening to the coqui frogs.

Soon enough, we’ll be packing up our home, preparing the ginger kitty for gecko hunting again and moving to an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I simultaneously can’t wait and am scared shitless. As it should be.

You can fully expect I’ll be sharing lots of pictures of lush rainforests, lagoons, black sand beaches and Mai-Tais.

I will not be sharing pictures of me getting lei’d.

Oh man, these jokes are never gonna get old.

Mahalo, my friends!

Here’s Your Permission to Change Course

By

A completely unstaged photo in Sydney, Australia.

Updated February 2022

So many of us grew up with this notion banged into our heads that we should find a career path, maybe switch positions or be promoted on it, but above all else—stick to it.

This idea is certainly ingrained from our parents, who had the opportunities to stay with a company for 30-40 years, earn a pension (what’s that?) and retire. I get it; it’s easy to rail against a generation ahead of us for what seems like cushy way of doing things. But let me gently remind you with the advent of the interwebs, we have plenty o’ opportunities too.

I remember the first day of my first-ever corporate job well.

Cue the old-lady sitting in a rocker moment.

Walking around in my big-girl pantsuit and Target heels (because entry-level-ish corporate jobs don’t exactly pay the big bucks). I was excited to have a laptop bag because it meant I got a company laptop! I could actually take home my work and proudly power walk to my nearly-paid-off car, casually holding said laptop bag.

Who me? Oh yes. I’m taking work home. So much work to do. So, so much. I’m important.

I was pumped I got to work in a cubicle! I wish I were kidding. You guys, this is how much the notion had been beaten into my head that if I worked for some big corporation, I had made it!

Insert life plan here: Work my way up, coast into my 60’s and retire with a nice party thrown at 3pm on a Friday so people don’t get annoyed they are wasting their limited lunch hour to celebrate a good 40-ish years someone had put in. Plus, then they could leave for the weekend afterwards and that makes everyone at least fake a smile, right? Maybe I’d even get a little plaque with my name on it…

Cue to early fall in 2008.

The financial crisis heard ’round the world.

The Big Three (automakers for those who aren’t from Detroit) were near bankruptcy or days away from declaring it.

I worked for one of them.

In a matter of weeks, the entire make of cars that my marketing team worked on, dissolved. Boom. Done. Over. No more.

20% of us lost our jobs in one day of mass layoffs.

I turned in my badge. My oh-so-exciting laptop. Was escorted to the elevators. And made my way to my nearly-paid-off car. Empty laptop bag in one hand. Cell phone, holding back tears telling my now-husband, in the other.

This corporate getup was bullshit.

That slap in the you’re-laid-off-what-the-fuck-are-you-gonna-do-with-your-life-now face gave me the necessary time I needed to stop listening to the noise and evaluate what I really wanted.

I didn’t exactly have much time either, it was early on in my career! There was a 3-week severance package, barely a savings account, lots of student loans and now a really expensive COBRA to pay to keep the benefits I needed. (This was before ACA.) If I wanted to keep my benefits, I paid and paid big time. For me, it was to the tune of $850 month.

It was daunting.

I listened to that barely audible voice which told me to go back to school and get my video broadcasting certificate, something I regretted not doing while in college.

I pushed the voice down and told her that she was silly. The appropriate thing to do was to put my head down and get another big girl job.

But this time, I had another chance to listen to her and she yelled at me.

Go and see what happens!

So I did. I went back to school. I added on more student loans. Worked at part-time jobs that (barely) made ends meet, questioned myself the whole freakin’ time, and stayed in a holding pattern for a few years while the now hubster applied and waited to get into medical school.

It sucked.

You know what sucked more though? Being at a job that crushed my soul simply because it fit some stupid notion that’s what good girls and boys do to make their way in the world.

I made my way into a copywriting job once the hubster started medical school. Part of the reason I got it, is because I put up a website to showcase my work as a video producer, which had a little ol’ section with a blog that displayed my writing prowess. Combine that with my degree, previous work in the ad world and—BAM! Hey ma’, look made I made it.

From there, I worked my way up, fell a bit into climbing the corporate ladder again, BUT learned this time to leave when it turned into something I didn’t feel-in-my-bones was good for me anymore. That’s when I dove head first into to starting my own copywriting business.

How many of us stop at the previous step though?

NONE of this would have happened if I kept my head down like a good little girl and found another job pushing papers when I got laid off.

The last decade could have easily been spent bopping around from agency to agency wondering if I should do something else.

We stay at jobs we hate because we convince ourselves of the myriad of reasons why it’s a good job, even if coworkers have caught us crying in the bathroom stall, our cars or over our half-eaten Taco Bell because we’ve been too busy trying to complete the task of fulfilling another madman’s request?

The benefits are good. The vacation schedule is better than my last job. They’re nice to me sometimes. It’s better than my previous boss/team/manager. If I get to 10 years, I’ll get 3 weeks vacation! People keep saying I don’t know how good I have it.

Maybe because they’re “good enough” isn’t good enough for you?

Here’s your unwavering permission to change course.

That doesn’t mean flipping the bird to your boss or telling your schedule manager to shove it because you’re heading to the Bahamas to sip on Pain Killers, learn how to play steel drums and find yourself.

It does mean giving yourself permission to explore that something that is nagging at you. That voice you’ve quieted in return for security.

If my story has taught you anything, know that jobs aren’t secure, no matter how lovely the benefits are. This is especially relevant now.

You can fail at what you don’t want. So you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.

-Jim Carrey
  • Take out a notebook and do a long brain dump of all the “silly” creative ideas that fill your soul. Yes, even the papier-mâché making class!
  • Take that hobby you do once every blue more and prioritize it for one freakin’ day a month. No excuses, clear your morning, 2 hours in the afternoon, and tell your partner they are takin’ the kids—then do it.
  • Use those 20 blissfully quiet moments in the morning to investigate the class you’ve been wanting to take.
  • Map out what your next 6 months to 1 year could look like if you quit your job and did something else. (I did this.)
  • Small, incremental steps add up quickly. If you notice you enjoy certain things in your daily like (like cooking or listening to a podcast or singing at the top of your lungs while in the shower), see how it would feel if you did more of that, even once more a week, or took it to a deeper level. Maybe a new cooking class? Maybe a new recipe once a week from that cookbook with all the crazy ingredients.
  • What did you like doing as a child? I love coloring. OH MAN, I LOVED IT. Guess what? I added a coloring book page into my monthly planner that I get to color at the end of every month. Silly? Yes. Worth it? Yes.
  • Piggyback off an already normal habit in your everyday schedule. If you take time to eat at any point in the day, use that time while eating to journal or explore a country you want to visit or finish your meal with a daily 5-minute meditation.

When you start doing something you like, with purposeful intent, little cracks in the made-up system begin to open.

It could look a whole lot like going back to school for 8 months, tossing it up on a website that includes writing about stuff you love and, well, look where we are now, my pretties. I run my own biz pantless in Hawaii.

Now this goes without saying, I also think a lot about how I come from a place of privilege. I qualified for student loans that I’m still paying to this day, but are manageable. Annoying, but manageable. I’m married and that means I fall into that wonderful club of: the spouse with the better benefits gets to add one of us on the plan. I could have totally crap months of income when starting this biz and still be okay because we saved a lot and he has a job.

If you think I don’t often wonder what more I could be doing with my current career, you’re bonkers. It’s doesn’t work like that. You don’t start your own biz and live happily ever after, full stop.

It is always evolving! It always looks like a hot mess of brain dump, after brain dump across note pages and Asana tasks and webinars. I know in the future, I want to prioritize my time to edit more videos and photos. I’ve thought about starting a YouTube channel or podcast for years. I think I’d like to put my writing talents into more charitable routes that include traveling and children.

None of this may make sense with my current copywriting trajectory. It may not be on-brand for Not Your Average Gal. It may be an idea seemingly out of left-field. But, you know what, it could also give me more opportunities.

Go and see what happens!

I have so many ideas mulling around that make me think maybe I haven’t chosen the forever career path and it’s somehow wrong. And that’s where they getcha!

What if your career path isn’t one straight highway of formalities? What if the detours are where you find not only what you like, but what you love?

Keep exploring that!

The key is to set up your life to allow it. It may look a whole heck of a lot like saying no to the things that aren’t serving you—is it that god-awful job?—and yes to the things that melt your butter—is it that photo editing class you keep finding yourself going back to on the interwebs?

The only person who can decide is manning the ship.

I’m giving you full permission to change the course, captain. Everyone else can adjust their sails.

His Name is Tom

By

If you're an OG reader, you remember a time when I referred to my husband as My Main Squeeze. After our wedding—nearly 7 years ago!—he got an upgrade to The Hubster.

I did this mainly to protect him from my entertaining wit and marketing shenanigans around these parts. He has one of those proper, button-up jobs. I felt very protective over him too, it's one thing for me to run a copywriting business that encourages dropping F-bombs or maybe even participate in a lip sync battle in my IG Stories; it's another to drag him into the fray with my antics.

Giving him a pseudonym provided anonymity.

Humanity gets lost in anonymity though.

As we watched the death count slowly tick up, then rapidly pick up at a heartbreaking pace, it's important, vitally important, to know there are names and faces behind these numbers.

Names behind the lives lost.

Names behind the bravery.

Names behind those heading in when others are staying home.

The Hubster is an ER physician in the last few months of his residency. We certainly didn't imagine the glorious end to 13+ years of hard work would look like this. In the final months, we were supposed to be celebrating and packing our home to move. A hard-fought move; one that brought about equal parts panic and excitement.

A move I had already written about to be published on here. A move that may be delayed or on hold, like the rest of our lives.

It all seems so trivial now, even if my heart pangs a bit thinking back to our light and fun celebration as the job offers for after residency started rolling in. That little notch in my gut yearns for the innocence of not knowing what the next few months would look like for us. We were robbed in so many ways.

Including not being given the proper time to grieve over seemingly inconsequential things.

Over the course of a few frantic days that turned into weeks, The Hubster went from typical 10-12 hour shifts in an emergency room to epitomizing the phrase, “All hands on deck.”

Non-stop conference calls lasting all morning and afternoon on his days off.

Hours spent sourcing PPE for himself and fellow residents.

Late nights reviewing the latest statistics and how that may impact his hospital.

Unending changes to procedures, shifts and scheduling.

A constant barrage of calls, texts, group chats and emails from worried residents looking for some semblance of structure or comfort.

And then he went into work.

For the last month, I started a new tradition where I watch him leave for shifts from the front door and wave as he pulls away. Some days are harder than others. But every day I feel like I'm watching him go into battle with an invisible, cruel, ruthless enemy.

If there's anything I want you to take away from reading this, it’s to believe things that may be hard to understand. No matter how hard that reality may be to wrap your heart around. No matter how much you want to stick your head in the sand. No matter if the truth is a sick certainty.

When you doubt what doctors and scientists are seeing, when you question what they are saying, you are carelessly telling them what they’re experiencing isn't accurate. It's a futile mission created simply to comfort your own mind during this uncomfortable time.

The Hubster was meant for the Emergency Medicine specialty. His cool-as-a-cucumber mentality is the one you want with you in the stark, sterile confines of an ER. The guy who puts his head down, mitigates trauma and rallies the troops. As much as I don't want him there right now, I know he's the person you want by your side.

There are a few patients over the course of the last 4 years that The Hubster will never forget; some who have impacted him so much he's even gone to their funerals, a cruel by-product of choosing emergency medicine.

When he speaks about his patients, he does so with a slow, methodical and clinical cadence. He doesn't mention them by name, but will walk through what he did for them and how it helped.

In the early stages of this pandemic, he spoke to me about a woman who needed to be intubated. Her lungs had become so cruelly squeezed by COVID-19 that not even the oxygen given to her was helping. She needed to have a machine breathe for her in the hopes of saving her life. They needed to give her lungs a fighting chance to battle the vicious virus and hopefully someday breathe on her own again.

Intubating patients is an uncompromising procedure with little room for negotiation.

Patients need to be sedated. It can be a frightening process for those of us not in healthcare and lacking the ability to whip out medicine acronyms with abandon.

She was nervous and painfully alone. Families are not allowed in hospitals.

She asked my husband to hold her hand after he discussed the need for her to be intubated and how it would work. They talked for a while about their lives, sharing different stories, in an attempt to make her comfortable, my husband holding her hand the whole time.

She was successfully intubated that afternoon, eased into a slumber, allowing her body to give a fighting chance.

He came home and told me how he desperately hoped his face wasn’t the last face she ever sees.

I asked him to tell me her name so I could think about her, take care of her family in my heart. For weeks, I'd ask how she was doing and he'd dutifully check on her when he was at the hospital.

He seemed cautiously hopeful.

She seemed to be getting a bit better, a fickle side-effect of a merciless disease.

He opened her chart at home one evening on a day off, wanting to check on her.

She had died earlier that day.

To her loved ones, her name was Auntie.

His name is Tom.

I'm forever mindful that the verbs in those sentences are different.