🌃 Reflections from The Greek: When Jay Shetty Called Me a Hugger

We missed the first 45 minutes.

I hate being late.

Especially when it’s something I’ve been craving, counting down to—something meant to pour into me instead of pull from me. But that night, the universe had other plans—and LA traffic has no mercy. Between the parking circus at The Greek Theatre and overlapping events in the area, Kristin, Bettina and I found ourselves in the kind of gridlock that tests your soul, stuck in a slow-motion maze that nearly broke us. At one point, we even looked at each other and asked, “Is this even worth it?!” By the time we made it inside, we had already ridden an emotional rollercoaster and the show was already well underway.

But walking in—even late—something shifted.

A hush. A presence. A shift… it was holy.

I felt it in the silence.

Jay Shetty was on stage, talking to a woman named Katie. And somehow, I knew exactly what this was. Vulnerability in motion. Coaching in real time. Jay held space like only someone who’s cracked open his own darkness could do.

As we found our seats, he handed her noise-canceling headphones and asked her to sit onstage—completely unaware of what was unfolding around her. Jay randomly selected strangers, going to them in the crowd and asking them their first impressions of Katie—affirmations, compliments, the kind of words we rarely hear said out loud. Each person he selected then had to scribble these messages onto cards that he collected. 

Back on stage, Jay had her remove the headphones and read those anonymous notes to herself, with the instruction to choose the one that resonated most. Watching Katie read those cards—seeing her face change, hearing the crowd exhale with her—I was reminded of how deeply we all just want to be seen. Not fixed. Not judged. Just held in our messy humanness. 

Then came the twist: one of the cards was blank. It was hers to fill in—her own truth, her own reminder. Jay encouraged her to place these cards around her home, to return to them in the moments she forgets her worth, so when shame tried to creep in, she’d remember how it felt to be seen and celebrated by others.

And somehow, watching that unfold, I felt like I hadn’t missed a thing.

We had arrived exactly when we were meant to.

That moment alone was worth the drive.

🎙️ After a short break, Jimmy Kimmel came out for the podcast taping—and, to be honest, it didn’t land. The energy dipped, it was a bit of a letdown, a real womp womp. Such a contrast to Katie’s open embrace of the audience, of her own struggles with body image, wondering if she would ever find love as her previous experiences left her with thoughts of not being enough.

Jimmy kept things surface-level, deflecting the deeper questions with humor; Jay kept trying to redirect the conversation to vulnerability and substance. The jokes weren’t bad, but it was the type of guarded banter in that “I’m fine, haha but not really” kind of way, a guarded banter that says, “Don’t look too close.” And I get it. Not everyone’s ready to go deep on stage in front of strangers.

I almost wanted to scream, Just be real. You don’t have to entertain us tonight. But maybe that was the point too: a masterclass in avoidance. The pain underneath was palpable—but the wall stayed up. The cost of shielding. The ache that never leaves when we armor up too long. A reminder of what happens when we protect ourselves so much that we forget how to be seen.

But what happened after the episode wrapped? That was the true reason we were there.

✨ Jay led us into a guided meditation, inward, and I was ready—body soft, heart open, mind present. I didn’t just hear his words, I felt them in my body.

For those 10 minutes, my body softened, my brain quieted, and I could feel the truth of what he’d said earlier: that we all have purpose, but we have to choose it—again and again.

He spoke slowly. Intentionally. He reminded us to breathe. To be here.

Then he said:

“Bring up your worst day. The worst memory. The one that still grips you.”

The pain surged like a wave. I could feel it—not just emotionally, but physically. In my chest. My jaw. My gut.

He asked us to name that day in one word. Just one.

Then he shifted gears.

“Now bring up your best day. Your most joyful memory. The one where your whole being lit up.”

I went there. Fully. And again, one word.

With both words in hand—our private compass—he guided us through breathwork. Not to erase the pain, but to release its grip. To let the joy integrate. To make peace with the paradox.

“This is your pain-to-purpose map,” he said. “These two words are yours alone. Use them. Let them guide you forward.”

I was sobbing. So was most of the audience around me.

And when I opened my eyes…

…a lot of people were gone.

I don’t know why they left. Maybe the babysitter had a curfew. Maybe the parking lot panic was too much. Maybe the surface-level podcast moment made them think the night had peaked.

But they missed the entire point.

This was the transformation.

This was why we came.

🦋 And it still wasn’t over.

Jay closed the night with one final exercise—an invitation to understand ourselves and each other more deeply—a mirror of humanity, split into four “types”. 

He began by asking:

“Are you an extrovert or a reserved person?”

My first instinct was “extrovert”, even though I typically claim “introvert” first. But reserved??? Hmmmm let’s see: Loud? Playful? Expressive? Yep, that’s me. I’ve got big energy. I love people. I speak my truth boldly and often.

But then Jay clarified with actual current situation examples:

Reserved people crave deep, 1-on-1 conversations in the car on the way home.

Extroverts are planning their post-show party or next bar stop.

He then asked the extroverts to stand. As Kristin stood—instantly identifying as the extrovert—she turned to beckon me to join her. That had been my initial plan, too. But… that definition? That quiet processing in the car after? 

I stayed seated.

Because I had already mapped out what I wanted to talk about with the girls on the drive home.

I was craving depth. Meaning. The car ride was the next destination for me.

And when the reserved group was asked to rise—I stood.

Then Jay asked us to choose again:

“Are you people-oriented or task-oriented?”

He didn’t ask for abstract labels. He gave us real examples again:

People-oriented: wondering if everyone else is enjoying this moment as much as they are.

Task-oriented: aware the nanny has called seven times and annoyed that Jay hasn’t acknowledged how much parking costs in LA.

I didn’t even hesitate. People-oriented, through and through.

Jay then had us all stand in order of our combinations and explained the four types:

• Extroverted + Task-Oriented = The Doers. They make shit happen.

• Extroverted + People-Oriented = The Inspirers. Natural leaders.

• Reserved + Task-Oriented = The Perfecters. Detail-driven, nothing missed.

• Reserved + People-Oriented = The Huggers. The emotional anchors. The ones you go to when you need to fall apart safely.

It was like something clicked into place.

Not just for me—but for our whole group.

This wasn’t just a TED Talk gimmick. It landed. Hard. The reminder that we need each other in all our contradictions. That changemakers aren’t carbon copies. They’re collectives. Contrasts. Conversations. 

Again, I found myself clear: I am a reserved, people-oriented person. And I saw myself in the room. Not as a label. But as a presence.

For the first time in a long time, I felt seen in a way that didn’t make me feel too much—or not enough.

And the car ride home? That was the real proof.

From 11 p.m. to nearly 1 a.m., I led Kristin and Bettina through our reflections. Sharing our unique two words. Revisiting the meditation. Pulling apart what landed and why. Three women, all cracked open, processing our own stories riding home in the dark, headlights flashing past on the winding LA freeways, our voices low and honest. Deep, vulnerable, sacred conversation in the car—just like Jay predicted. 

The parking lot was a distant memory. The conversation is what I’ll remember. 

This is who I am. That’s the kind of connection I live for.

💫 Allow me an ADHD side quest to introduce our newest player: Bettina, one of Kristin’s besties. A stranger to me when we met, and yet by some twist of fate, became my friend too before the night even ended.

The three of us shared a mind-blowing dinner before the event, and dessert? Holy shit. 

Fried French toast

+ ice cream

+ a caramel sauce with its own gravitational pull

💀 That dessert changed our lives. It is in my soul now. I didn't realize it but it was setting the tone for what was to come that night.

📸 The next day, Kristin and I did a full-on photoshoot, getting professional shots for Permission Slip Granted and for our coaching practices.

Two women standing in the middle of a massive identity expansion.

Coaching. Podcasting. Becoming. Laughing in-between poses. Reclaiming our image, our voice, our permission.

It felt like marking a moment. A flag in the sand—proof that we’re stepping fully into what we’re here to do.

We are rising. We are showing up. We are fucking doing this.

🌒🌕🌘

The whole trip—the chaos, the conversations, the cravings, the tears—was a portal.

Eight hours in the car across two days. Hours filled with both laughter and confessions.

Real talk. I’m not sure I’ve had space like that in a long time.

This trip cracked something open.

I could sit here and write about purpose, or alignment, or Jay’s best quotes—but somehow, amidst the chaos, the parking hell, and the missed minutes, what I found was something deeper:

A reflection of who I am.

A glimpse of who I’m becoming.

And a reminder that the magic is never really in the first 45 minutes.

It’s in the quiet ride home.

It’s in the French toast.

It’s in the spaces where we finally let ourselves be seen.

Because  while I showed up for Jay Shetty… I left with a mirror of myself.

Reflection Prompt:

✨ What are your two words—your pain and your joy?

What might they be trying to teach you?

Enjoy, and feel free to share your reflection if you feel so inspired!

Be strong. Do it scared. 💜