06/19/2026
I was Sandy my entire life. The good girl. The pleaser. The one who followed the rules and cared far too much what everyone thought.
But part of me desperately wanted to be Rizzo.
Rizzo was bad a$$. She was bold where I was careful, unapologetic where I was accommodating. She didn’t seem burdened by the need to be liked, and she could see through everyone.
But as intrigued as I was, she also terrified me .So I kept her at arm’s length.
For decades, Sandy ran the show while Rizzo stayed tucked away in the shadows, appearing only in flashes before I pushed her back down.
Then somewhere around 48, things started to shift.
Rizzo slowly took over.
She showed up in my boundaries. In my opinions. In my willingness to disappoint people. In my growing refusal to make myself smaller so others could stay comfortable.
The surprise wasn’t that Rizzo emerged. It was that she didn’t replace Sandy.
She saved her.
Because after a lifetime of carrying everyone else’s expectations, Sandy was tired and out of hope. She needed some of Rizzo’s courage, her honesty, her freedom and her boldness.
Looking back, I don’t see two different women. I see one woman who spent years becoming whole.
Sandy taught me love.
Rizzo taught me self-respect.
And somewhere in midlife, they finally learned to live in the same skin.
