By default, being the oldest of seven children meant that I always had to be the “responsible one.” After Amber came along in ’88, there was no more me, myself and I but more them, us, ours, all together. I was accountable to my siblings, my parents, my family (which was huge; growing up it seemed like I was related to everybody), the church, and our community. I was the one who people came to when they had problems that they couldn’t solve on their own.

How am I supposed to do insert goal if I don’t know how/understand/have the money to insert goal. This is the classic question on the mind of every under-resourced, overlooked, and underpaid person ever. It’s frustrating to have passion, skill, and raw talent but not to have the visibility, resources, connections, or know-how to get things done. Whenever I feel like this, I’m reminded of the importance of investing in myself.

My mom was larger than life. A woman full of passion and confidence, with a bold and powerful voice that met the room before she did. She was well known and well-liked, and her presence commanded respect and attention. As a child, I was totally intimidated by my mother—like shook. Not always out of fear (although she was scary from time to time) but more out of envy. I sorta marveled at how she worked the room. My mom NEVER played small.

Love is a choice and you have to decide to choose your partner repeatedly and to give your love to them every day. Pop culture often makes love seem like a fleeting thought, an emotional wave of butterflies and puppy tails, and an overwhelmingly gullible decision. But from my experience, love is hard. Hard like a good workout that you don’t regret, hard like really studying for a test and getting an A, or hard like cutting back on spending in order to meet a savings goal and making it a month early. Dedication like this requires a process and some practical application. Here I’ll share my lessons from love. Each one teach one.