Let me just say it plain: I want integrity in my life, and I’m not willing to settle for anything less.
At this point in the game—47 years old, freshly navigating a divorce, starting over in just about every area of my life—I don’t have the energy or interest for anything shady, fake, manipulative, or masked in sugar-coated nonsense. I’ve done the detours. I’ve given the benefit of the doubt. I’ve swallowed my gut instincts more times than I care to admit. But those days? They’re over. Done. Behind me like shoulder pads and dial-up internet.
These days, if you come into my life—whether you’re a friend, a partner, a coworker, or the guy fixing my back porch—I expect one thing first and foremost: integrity.
That means showing up with honesty, even when it’s not convenient. It means keeping your word. It means doing the right thing even when nobody’s watching, and especially when no one’s clapping for you. And if you mess up? Own it. Apologize. Make it right. That’s integrity too.
I’ve seen what happens when integrity is missing. I’ve felt it in my bones—the gut punches of betrayal, the confusion that comes from mixed signals, the exhaustion of constantly having to read between the lines. No more. I don’t need smoke and mirrors. I need straight answers and clean energy.
The beautiful thing about getting older is that you start to trust your own standards. You realize you’re not “too picky” or “too sensitive”—you’re just aware now. You know what you need to feel safe, respected, and at peace. And one of those things, for me, is integrity. If it’s not present, then neither am I.
Because here’s the truth: Integrity is freedom. When you live with it, you sleep better. You speak clearer. You stop second-guessing every interaction. You attract people who operate on the same level, and you repel those who don’t—and that’s a blessing, not a loss.
I’m not claiming perfection over here. I’ve made mistakes. But I strive to walk my talk. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. If I love you, you know it. If I can’t offer you what you need, I don’t pretend. That’s integrity. That’s the baseline. That’s the price of admission to my life these days.
So, if you’ve been questioning your standards lately or wondering if you’re asking for too much, let me remind you: You’re not. Wanting integrity is not being “too much.” It’s being clear. And clarity is power.
And me? I’m finally in a place where I’d rather be alone with my truth than surrounded by people who play pretend. I want peace over popularity. Real over pretty. And integrity, always.
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