Qadra
Evans

This week I wore a lot of different hats. Some of them were considerably more glamorous than others.

I started the week with a full-day photo shoot with Whitney Faith Media Marketing, the team that will be taking over my social media in about ten days. I cannot adequately express how excited I am about this development. Not because I don't enjoy sharing this experience, but because creating and editing social media content is not exactly where my talents lie.

Give me a room full of executives, a microphone, or a complicated business strategy and I'm perfectly comfortable. Give me a Reel to edit and suddenly I am back to being a beginner with no patience to learn the process. Fortunately, the professionals are almost here.

The photo shoot was a chance to capture some of the more glamorous side of being Mrs. America. Beautiful outfits, hair, makeup, cameras, all the things you might expect from someone wearing a crown.

A couple of days later, I was in Las Cruces, New Mexico, learning how to operate heavy machinery. Well, technically, I was learning on a simulator but I have to admit I was pretty good at it (at least that's what I'm telling myself).

I was there for “Build My Future”, an incredible event that brought together 1,500 middle and high school students to experience careers in the skilled trades firsthand. When I say experience, I mean actually DO things.

The students practiced welding, built park benches and doghouses, operated heavy equipment, tried simulators, and explored all sorts of careers that many of them may never have considered.

I loved every minute of it.

At one point, a young apprentice who worked with the company running the heavy equipment simulator walked me through how to use it. It was a little like playing a video game, except the skills he was teaching me translate to operating some very expensive machinery in the real world.

There I was, Mrs. America, learning something new from a young man who was already developing expertise in his trade and that's exactly why events like this matter. We spend so much time asking kids what they want to be when they grow up, but how can they know what's possible if they've never had a chance to try it?

You can tell a student about welding or construction or operating an excavator or you can put the tools in their hands, let them experience it, and watch their curiosity take over. That's the part of my work with the She Built Foundation that I love so much - helping young people, especially girls, see opportunities they might never have imagined for themselves.

I spent the day taking photos, doing interviews, talking with students and trying out a few things myself. It was one of those experiences that reminded me exactly why I wanted to make the skilled trades such a big part of my year as Mrs. America.

Then, because this week needed a completely different kind of adventure, I went to a pet costume contest. My friend Faith, Mrs. New Mexico America and my roommate during Mrs. America, drove down from Albuquerque to meet me. That evening we attended Yappy Hour, a fundraiser for the Humane Society, where we had the very important responsibility of judging the pet costume competition.

Anyone who knows me knows that animals are my weakness. Put me in a room full of dogs and cats, and I am completely in my element. Put those animals in costumes, and I may never leave - or I may leave with a new family member.

Our first-place winner was Kenny, a cat dressed as a scarecrow. Yep, a CAT. Dressed as a SCARECROW. Second place went to Reba, an adorable chihuahua dressed as a cowgirl, and third place went to a family of four, two humans and two dogs, dressed as characters from Beauty and the Beast.

I take very few things more seriously than the welfare of animals, but judging them in costumes may be my favorite responsibility I've had as Mrs. America so far. Being surrounded by animals feeds my soul and getting to spend the evening with Faith, who went from being my roommate at nationals to a wonderful friend, made it even better.

Then it was back home to Montana, where we had company for the weekend and spent our time doing some of my favorite things. We hiked in Glacier National Park, rented side-by-sides and went four-wheeling through some of the most spectacular scenery imaginable. In between the adventures, there were fires, football, and plenty of time just enjoying being together.

I love a fabulous gown, but I am equally happy in hiking boots, covered in dust, surrounded by mountains. Well, maybe not covered in dust but that just comes with the territory.

Somewhere in the middle of all of these wildly different activities, something occurred to me. One of the things I'm enjoying most about documenting this year is that people are getting to see so many different sides of who I am.

There's the glamorous version, the corporate executive, the speaker, the community advocate, the outdoorsy girl, the animal lover, and the woman who gets very excited about operating an excavator simulator.

They're all me and I don't think I'm particularly unique in that regard. Most people are so much more multidimensional than we give them credit for. We tend to put people in categories based on what we know about them. A beauty queen, a business executive, an outdoorswoman, and an advocate but why should any of those things be mutually exclusive?

It's actually something I think about when I'm talking to young girls about careers in the skilled trades. The girl who loves dresses and makeup might also love building things, the girl who dreams of becoming an engineer might also want to be a dancer and the girl who wants to run a company might also want to spend her weekends hiking mountains and rescuing animals.

She doesn't have to choose just one version of herself and neither do any of us.

This coming week, I'll be in Missoula with the Montana Building Industry Association, talking about She Built and encouraging more local home builder associations to establish Professional Women in Building councils. A podcast I recorded with Mrs. Arizona America is also being released.

There will be more speaking, more advocacy, more work, and undoubtedly more wardrobe decisions but for now, I'm looking back at a week that included a professional photo shoot, heavy machinery, a scarecrow cat, a cowgirl chihuahua, and some truly spectacular Montana adventures. I can't imagine a more entertaining combination.

For the record, Kenny absolutely deserved that blue ribbon.

I've discovered something about being Mrs. America that no one mentioned during the interview process:  There is a surprising amount of administrative work involved.

Fortunately, I happen to thrive in administrative work.  I know - it’s not exactly the glamorous confession you were expecting from a beauty queen but I am a Type A planner through and through. In our household, I'm the paperwork person. I’m the one who keeps track of the details, manages the logistics and makes sure there's a plan behind whatever we're doing. I am genuinely uncomfortable when things aren't organized, and I find tremendous satisfaction in getting everything mapped out.

So, naturally, I’m approaching my year as Mrs. America the same way.

There are appearances to coordinate, travel arrangements to make, people to connect with, wardrobe to plan, and a growing list of things that need to happen before Mrs. World in January…and that's just my extracurricular activity.

My actual career is as busy as ever. This week was almost entirely devoted to 2027 planning which means a lot of heads-down work documenting strategy, aligning my team's priorities with the broader business goals and figuring out how we turn big ideas into something actionable.

It's the kind of work I really enjoy. Give me a complicated problem, a blank document and the opportunity to build a plan, and I'm a happy camper.

Of course, somewhere between business strategy and pageant strategy, the universe decided to throw in a little comic relief.  I received an email through my website from a news station asking if I was scheduled to speak at an upcoming Trump rally in Kalispell.

This was news to me!  Apparently, there are people out there who know more about my supposed schedule than I do.

For the record, no, I am not speaking at the rally. My role as Mrs. America is nonpolitical, and no one has asked me to speak but I did get a good laugh out of the fact that this is apparently the kind of inquiry that now arrives in my inbox.

Meanwhile, Mrs. World wardrobe planning continues and my clothing rack is losing the battle.  I have been steadily accumulating outfits, reviewing options and working with designers on custom pieces for January. The rack holding everything is rapidly approaching the end of its useful life, which means today's big Mrs. America adventure is a trip to Walmart to find something sturdier…nothing says international beauty queen quite like shopping for industrial-strength clothing storage.

Next week, the pace picks up considerably. Whitney Faith Media Marketing is coming to Montana for a full-day photo shoot, which means, naturally, another round of wardrobe planning. I'm also heading to Las Cruces for a major career fair expected to bring together 1,500 students, where I'll have the opportunity to talk about careers in the skilled trades.

Then there's the travel calendar. I'm now booked every week through mid-November.  I could probably use a vacation.  Actually, I could definitely use a vacation preferably somewhere beautiful, with absolutely no meetings, no wardrobe decisions and no requirement to edit a Reel.  Sadly, there isn't one on the calendar anytime soon.

The funny thing is, I don't really mind the logistics. I like having a lot going on, especially when I believe in what I'm doing and I love seeing a plan come together, whether it's a business strategy, a community initiative or an entire year of appearances as Mrs. America.

What I'm learning is that the glamorous moments are only a tiny fraction of the experience. Behind every beautiful gown, every event and every photo is a surprising amount of coordination, preparation and good old-fashioned paperwork.

I spent years dreaming about this opportunity and now I get to do the work that comes with it.

The calendar may be ridiculous, the clothing rack may be on its last legs, and a vacation may be nowhere in sight but this is exactly the kind of busy I hoped for.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

This week felt surprisingly normal.

Well, as normal as life gets when you're Mrs. America, you're discussing custom gowns for Mrs. World, you're planning a full-day photo shoot, and someone is turning you into a cartoon.

More on that in a minute!

After the whirlwind of the last several weeks, I finally felt like I was settling back into a somewhat normal routine. Work is as busy as ever, and we're deep into 2027 planning. Because I'm responsible for creating my team's strategy, this is the time of year that requires a lot of heads-down thinking, planning and focus which is slightly challenging when part of my brain would much rather think about gowns and shoes.  I'm trying very hard to be responsible.

And there are definitely still gowns.  I met with designers this week to start working on some custom pieces for Mrs. World, and I seem to have developed a constant radar for anything I see that makes me think, Would that be good for January?

I guess this is just how my brain works now.  I'm also planning wardrobe for a day-long photo shoot with Whitney Faith Media Marketing coming up in about a week. They're officially coming on board to help manage my social media for the next year, which is exciting for many reasons, but perhaps none more important than this:

I can stop editing my own Reels.

I have been painstakingly creating and editing social media content myself over the last few weeks, and let's just say it does not come naturally to me.  At all.  I can run a meeting, I can build a strategy, and I can speak to a room full of people but give me a Reel with six video clips, background music, voiceover and transitions and suddenly I have lost all confidence in my abilities as a functioning adult.  Time to leave it to the experts.

Whitney Faith handled my social media during America Week, and their work is beautiful. I'm thrilled to have them joining me for this next chapter both because I trust them with the brand we're building and because there are only so many hours I should reasonably spend staring at CapCut.

This week also brought me back to the part of this year that I love most.  I visited another kindergarten classroom to read The House That She Built, where one little boy told me he wanted to be a robotics engineer and another announced that if he could build a house out of anything, he would build it out of diamonds.  Obviously, the diamond house won my prize.

This weekend, Corey and I traded crowns and cameras for hard hats and harnesses and spent a day volunteering with Habitat for Humanity.  We hung soffits all day.

Now, I spend a lot of time talking about careers in the skilled trades. I have spent my entire professional career in and around housing. I am a very enthusiastic supporter of the people who actually build our homes but I feel it's important to disclose something here…I am not particularly handy.  I can use a drill, I can follow directions, and I am an excellent assistant.

Fortunately, those skills proved useful.  Corey and I spent the day harnessed up and working from a very cool, very large machine - which may have made me feel considerably more qualified than I actually was - helping hang soffits on homes that will soon belong to families in that community.

We even had the opportunity to meet some of the future homeowners and that part stayed with me.  I've spent my entire career in real estate, and I've been fortunate enough to own properties myself. I believe deeply in homeownership, particularly as one of the only ways middle class families have historically been able to build stability and long term wealth.

It's easy to talk about housing in terms of markets, inventory, affordability and interest rates. I do it all the time but it's different when you're standing on a job site with the people who will eventually call those houses home.  Maybe that's why Habitat feels like such a natural extension of what I'm already doing with The House That She Built.

One is about showing girls that they can help build the houses, and the other is about helping families have the opportunity to own them.  There is something pretty special about getting to be part of both.

Speaking of She Built… we're thinking much bigger about where we can go next.

We're spending the remainder of 2026 planning and putting the pieces in place for some pretty exciting things in early 2027 including something we're calling the Mrs. America Tour.

There is a lot still being developed, so I'll save some of those details for later but I can share one thing:  Mollie is turning me into a cartoon.  Yes. Me.  The human Mrs. America is being transformed into an illustrated Mrs. America who can hobnob with all of the other characters from The House That She Built.

I have now seen myself as a cartoon and she is PRECIOUS.

There are moments in this experience when I still catch myself wondering how exactly this became my life and seeing cartoon Mrs. America may officially be one of them.

Somehow, in the middle of all of this, life keeps moving.  This coming week brings another kindergarten read-aloud, more work, more 2027 planning, more Mrs. World preparation and a particularly fun dinner.  Mrs. Connecticut America is going to be in Montana, so we're getting together tomorrow night.

Six months ago, I'm fairly certain “Mrs. Connecticut is coming to Montana, so we're meeting for dinner” was not a sentence that existed in my vocabulary and now it qualifies as a just another Monday.

I think that's what I'm learning about this season.  There really isn't a separate “Mrs. America life” and “real life.”  There's just my life.

Some days I'm building a strategy for 2027 for work, some days I'm reading to kindergarteners, some days I'm strapped into a harness hanging soffits, some days I'm talking about custom gowns for Mrs. World, and, apparently, some days I'm a cartoon.

I'm not sure this is what I would call getting back to normal but I'm having an awfully good time finding out what the new normal looks like.

Well, it's official. Corey has merch.  His Mr. America T-shirt and sweatshirt arrived this week, and he's entirely too excited about both of them.

When I was crowned Mrs. America, Corey also received a new title. No interview, no application, no swimsuit competition. Just an immediate promotion to Mr. America.  While the title sounds rather glamorous, I feel it's important to clarify what the position actually entails.

For starters, this poor man is now responsible for taking an infinite number of photographs.  Not just a quick picture before we leave the house. Oh, no, we need options. We need different angles. We need one with the crown, one without the crown, one looking at the camera, one pretending I don't know there's a camera, and at least a thousand more just in case.

Content does not create itself, people!

He's also been subjected to more conversations about gowns, designers, wardrobe, shoes and rhinestones than any rational human should have to endure.  I can only imagine what it's like to be asked for your opinion on two nearly identical dresses, offer an opinion, and then discover that you have somehow chosen incorrectly.

Poor guy.  Fortunately, Corey has had an outlet during all of this.

While I've been pageanting, he's been outside building a massive outdoor fireplace and an actual creek on our property. Not a little decorative fountain, a full-on project involving water, rocks, construction and, I suspect, considerably more engineering than anything happening in my closet.

We've each been building something over the last several months, mine just happens to involve more sequins.  The problem is that his project is slowly coming to completion, which means he's going to need a new way to occupy himself while I continue discussing the finer points of evening gowns and international pageant wardrobe.

I'm open to suggestions. Preferably ones that don't involve another trip to the hardware store.

Underneath all the jokes about his new title is a story I shared on social media this week that means an awful lot to me.  I posted a little introduction to Corey on Instagram and Facebook.  By “little,” I mean a video containing exactly 100 photos because I am not very good at narrowing down my favorite pictures of my husband.

Corey grew up in Kalispell, Montana. His dad converted what had once been a radio station into their family home, and now, whenever we leave town to head home, we pass that very house.

I never had the opportunity to meet Corey's dad, and, oh, how I wish I had.  Living here gives us something special - we get to pass a place he created for his family and be part of the community where Corey grew up.  In a way that's difficult to explain, it feels like there's still a little piece of his dad here with us.  When we chose to make Montana our home, we were choosing a place that already held so much of Corey's story and a place where we could continue building ours.

I love that and I love that this new chapter of our story has taken us somewhere neither of us could have fully imagined although, to be fair, I don't think either of us imagined just how many photographs it would involve.

Also, there’s the travel!  This week alone, I booked exactly four trips.  FOUR.

Between work travel, appearances as Mrs. America and preparation for Mrs. World, the remainder of 2026 is shaping up to be rather full. I've been meeting with designers, with more meetings still to come, and working on ordering items for the contestant gift bags.

There are calendars to coordinate, travel plans to make and a million little details that need to come together before January.  It still feels far away, but I know better. The holidays are approaching, and we all know how quickly those disappear.

Which brings me to another delightful aspect of Mrs. World preparation…I get to maintain my weight so I can fit into all these clothes.  Through the holidays.  Excellent timing. Really couldn't have planned that better.

Even with the busy schedules, the endless photographs and the occasional conversation about whether a gown needs just a little more sparkle, I wouldn't trade this season for anything - it’s the most fun I could ever imagine having.

In January, I'll have the incredible honor of representing the United States at Mrs. World. And while I'll be wearing USA across my sash, you can bet there will be plenty of Montana pride underneath it.  It's a pretty special feeling to have a place that holds so much of our family's history become the place where we're making new memories of our own and I get to do all of this with Corey beside me.

The man who has patiently listened to more conversations about gowns than he ever bargained for, who has become my unofficial photographer and content assistant and who built an entire creek to escape the rhinestones.

And now he is proudly preparing to wear a sweatshirt announcing to the world that he is, in fact, Mr. America.

I love this life we're building, Corey. The unexpected adventures, the projects, the places we've called home and the ones we're still dreaming about.

I promise I'll only ask for a few more pictures…today.

It's been a little over two weeks since I was crowned Mrs. America, and I have a confession. I haven't exactly been sitting around admiring the crown.

Don't get me wrong. I still look at it and smile. Sometimes I look at it and think, “Is that really mine?” And I'm fairly certain I'll never get tired of hearing the words Mrs. America.

But I've also been busy. Very busy. And that's exactly how I hoped this would go. When I was crowned Mrs. Montana America 2026 back in May, I made a decision pretty early on that I was going to treat the opportunity like a business.

I created a website, I wrote a press release, I started reaching out to local businesses and organizations, introducing myself and finding ways we could work together. I wanted people to know who I was, what I cared about and how we might be able to make something happen together.

I didn't want to wait for opportunities to find me, I wanted to go find them, and I approached Mrs. America with that same intention long before I ever stepped onto the stage in Las Vegas.

So when I came home with the crown, I wasn't starting from scratch. I was getting to work on a plan I'd been dreaming about for months and something happened almost immediately that reminded me exactly why I wanted this opportunity.

A couple of days after I was crowned, I spoke with the She Built Foundation, the organization I've been involved with for years and whose mission is deeply personal to me. One of the things we discussed was a concern heading into 2027: book distribution. The House That She Built has been a powerful tool for introducing young girls to the possibilities of careers in construction and the skilled trades. Sponsors have helped make the publication and distribution of those books possible, putting them into the hands of children who might otherwise never have considered those career paths.

But as with many initiatives, the excitement around something new can begin to settle over time. The book isn't brand-new anymore, and maintaining that same level of sponsorship and distribution was becoming a concern.

But then something pretty incredible happened.

After I was crowned Mrs. America and word began to spread, sponsors started coming out of the woodwork. There was renewed excitement! People want to get involved and want to support the mission. They want to be part of what we could accomplish together over the next year.

I cannot adequately describe how much that meant to me because THAT is what I hoped this crown could do.

Yes, it's beautiful. Yes, it's an incredible honor. And yes, I still occasionally have moments when I wonder how in the world this all happened but the possibility that this title could help get more books into more classrooms, introduce more girls to careers they may never have imagined and bring new partners into a mission I believe in so deeply?

That's the good stuff…and we're just getting started.

We're preparing to sit down together and map out our strategy for the year. Where can I travel? What events should we prioritize? Where can I show up and make an impact? And just as importantly, how do we reach people in places I physically can't get to?

As much as I would love to spend the next year hopping from one school, job site and event to another, I do still have a full-time job, a family and a life that occasionally requires me to be home.

Apparently, there are only so many hours in a day. Rude.

This is where the fun part comes in. We get to think creatively about how to use this opportunity. How to make connections, how to build partnerships, how to create something that continues reaching people long after my year as Mrs. America is over.

The press release has gone out, interviews are being scheduled around Montana and beyond, and I'm getting to share not only the story of the pageant but the work behind the crown and I love that.

I love getting to talk about the women I met during Mrs. America, I love sharing what this experience has meant to me and I especially love when those conversations turn toward She Built and the possibilities we have in front of us. That's what I hoped this year would look like.

I want to be a working queen.

I want to show up in classrooms, at community events, on job sites and in rooms where conversations about the future of our workforce are happening. I want to use this title to open doors, make introductions and help good people doing good work reach more people.

And yes, I want to have a whole lot of fun along the way.

There will be gowns, appearances, plenty of rhinestones and, if my recent online shopping activity is any indication, there will absolutely be more shoes.

Underneath all of that, however, is a very real intention to make this year count. I've said before that I believe the most meaningful thing we can do with an opportunity is use it to create opportunities for someone else and if the first two weeks are any indication, we have a pretty exciting year ahead of us.

The crown is on. Now let's get to work.

I really thought “Tomorrow” was going to be the final post in this series.

Turns out, I was wrong.

I left Montana headed to Las Vegas for Mrs. America thinking I was about to complete one of the biggest goals I had set for myself this year.  Then I came home as Mrs. America.  So...that changed the plan.

For months, everything had been about preparing for one moment. The wardrobe, the interviews, the walking, the appearances, the travel, the endless checklists and, of course, the shoes.  There was a finish line in my head - Mrs. America.

What I didn’t expect was for that finish line to turn into a starting line.  Now, instead of packing away the pageant folders and going back to normal life, I’m looking ahead to Mrs. World in January which means we are apparently doing this again….only bigger.

The first few days after coming home have been a strange mix of trying to process what just happened and realizing there is suddenly another competition on the calendar.  Also, I apparently don’t know how to ease into anything because I’ve already ordered gowns and started reaching out to designers.  So much for putting the pageant folders away.

There are wardrobe ideas already floating around, travel plans to start thinking through and a whole new set of things I haven’t even figured out yet.  My Google Drive may be getting promoted and the shoes, I’m sure, will recover nicely.

Corey has somehow gone from pageant husband to Mr. America, which I suspect he’s going to enjoy more than he lets on (I may have ordered him some custom “Mr. America” swag…shhh).

The biggest difference this time is that I’m not preparing to represent one state, I’m preparing to represent the United States.

That sentence still feels wild.

I also know the next four months will look different from the last journey.  I’m not just preparing for another competition. I’m learning how to be Mrs. America, how to show up for the organization, how to use the title well, how to keep supporting the causes I care about and how to somehow balance all of that with work, family and real life.

Because I want to document every bit of this incredible adventure and I’m genuinely curious to see what happens next, I think we’ll keep the blog going.

There will probably be glamorous moments and there will almost certainly be ridiculous ones -  you’ve met me, right?!  There will be wardrobe decisions, travel stories, appearances, new people, new places and plenty of things I don’t know yet, and probably more shoes (yeeeesssss!).

So no, “Tomorrow” wasn’t the end of the journey, it was just the end of the first chapter.

Welcome to the Journey to Mrs. World!

(And yes...I’m still figuring out what that means too.)

Tomorrow, I leave for Mrs. America.

I've typed that sentence a few times over the last couple of days and it still feels a little surreal.

For months, this competition has lived somewhere out in the distance. There was always another appearance to attend, another interview question to practice, another blog post to write, another package arriving on the front porch.

Now, tomorrow is here.

One thing I've noticed over the last few weeks is that people keep asking if I'm nervous.  The answer surprises them.

Not really.

The more I've thought about it, the more I think it's because this isn't actually all that different from the way I already live my life.  I spend a lot of my time walking into places where I don't know exactly what to expect.

Airports, convention centers, speaking engagements, customer events, cities I've never been to before, rooms full of people I've never met.  And somehow, that's become normal for me.

I've learned that I don't need to know exactly how everything is going to unfold before I walk through the door. I usually just show up, stay curious and figure it out as I go. My mindset is pretty simple.  Let's just see.

Mrs. America feels a lot like that.  Yes, there will be gowns instead of business suits and significantly more rhinestones than my average work trip, but at its core it's another opportunity to meet new people, learn something new and experience something I'll remember for the rest of my life.

When I look around the house today, it's hard not to smile.  There are suitcases waiting by the door and enough carefully packed shoes to confirm that I may, in fact, have a small shopping problem (17 pairs of shoes to be exact).

My Google Drive folders are all renamed, the wardrobe is complete and the checklists that once felt endless have been completed.

The preparation is finished.  Tomorrow, the experience begins.

As excited as I am for Las Vegas, I think what I'll remember most about this season isn't just the competition itself.  It will be everything that came before it.  The people who encouraged me, sponsors who believed in this journey, community appearances, kindergarten classrooms, interviews, friendships, wardrobe planning (I may miss this the most), and the laughter.  I'll REALLY miss the daily dopamine hits of packages of clothing and shoes being delivered!

Every little piece has somehow become part of the story.  So tomorrow, I'll zip up the last suitcase, hug Corey goodbye, give my furbabies lots of cuddles, and head to the airport.  Then we'll just see.

I'll see you on the other side!

There comes a point in preparing for something big where there's not much left to do.

✔️The wardrobe is finished.

✔️The interviews have been practiced.

✔️The appearances have been made.

✔️The checklists have gotten shorter.

✔️The suitcases are almost packed.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, you realize something important. The preparation has quietly come to an end and now comes the hard part - trusting it. This week, I found myself doing something I promised I wouldn't do.

Scrolling. Looking. Comparing. (oh my)

Every incredible contestant reminded me how much talent will be walking onto that stage in Las Vegas. It's impossible not to admire these women. They're accomplished, kind, intelligent and each of them has a story worth telling. Then, somewhere along the way, admiration started turning into comparison.

I think that's probably a normal place to land when you're one week away from something you've worked toward for months.

Apparently my subconscious agreed.

A few nights ago, I had a dream that one of my hair extensions somehow ended up in the washing machine and completely fell apart. That's when I knew my brain had officially entered pageant week.

It's funny how our minds work when something important gets close. We start looking for problems that don't exist. We convince ourselves everyone else is somehow more prepared, more polished or more ready than we are.

Then I stopped myself. I've done the work not just over the past few months, but over the past several years.

I've worked with my platform long before I ever wore this crown. I've built a career that allows me to stand on stages and speak with confidence. I've spent time in my community, practiced my interview, practiced my walk and said yes to opportunities that stretched me long before Mrs. America ever became part of the picture.

None of that happened overnight and none of it can be measured by an Instagram post. That's what social media has a funny way of making us forget. It gives us tiny snapshots of someone else's journey without showing us the years that came before it.

The work. That's the part that matters. I've realized there comes a point where adding one more thing isn't going to make the difference.

Another practice walk isn't going to suddenly change who I am and another pair of shoes (although let's not rule it out completely) isn't going to determine the outcome.

At some point, preparation has to become belief. Not belief that everything will go perfectly and not belief that you'll win. Just belief that you've done everything you reasonably could to become the person you're meant to be when the moment arrives.

One week from today, I'll be on my way to Mrs. America.

I don't know exactly what America Week will bring, but I do know this…I've done the work, now it's time to trust it.

People keep asking me the same question lately.

"Are you nervous?"

Honestly?  No (not yet, anyway).  I'm excited.  Like really excited.

Maybe the nerves will come later, but right now, all I feel is gratitude that this thing I've been preparing for over the last few months is finally starting to become real.

I think this week was when it all shifted.  We found out who our roommates will be.  I'm rooming with New Mexico, and she's absolutely wonderful. We've gotten to know each other through social media and text over the last few months, but in just two weeks we'll actually meet in person.

That feels surreal.  Actually, all of it feels a little surreal.  The women don't feel like strangers anymore. They're becoming friends before we've even shared the same room.

My last two wardrobe pieces came home from the tailor this week.  It was a surprisingly emotional moment.  Partly because it means my wardrobe is officially complete and partly because I've had so much fun putting it all together.

I never expected to be a little sad that the shopping is over…although shopping has always been one of my favorite pastimes (wink).   Pageant wardrobe is significantly more fun than work wardrobe, and unfortunately the two don't overlap very often.

I've also found myself ordering the most wonderfully random things.  Things like packing cubes, rolling clothing racks, storage cubbies,  heel pads, and all the little accessories I never knew existed until pageant life introduced me to them.

It's amazing how many oddly specific products become completely reasonable purchases when you're preparing for Mrs. America.

The packing has started too.  Well, not officially but enough that there are packing cubes taking over parts of the house while I try to figure out how to fit ten days of pageant life into as few suitcases as possible.

Fortunately, I've always loved packing - it's like a puzzle.  My Type-A personality is once again having the time of her life.  The funny thing is, there isn't much left on the checklist anymore.  Most of the boxes are checked and the pieces are in place.

For months this journey has been about preparing but now it's becoming about experiencing.  Two weeks from now, I'll be there representing Montana, meeting these incredible women and walking into ten days I've imagined for months.

So that brings me back to the people who keep asking if I'm nervous.  Maybe I will be but today I'm simply excited and I think that's exactly how I hoped this journey would feel.

I've reached a very strange stage of Mrs. America preparation.

The packages have started slowing down.  For months, it felt like there was always another delivery on the way. Another dress, another pair of shoes, another accessory that suddenly felt absolutely essential.

Now, the UPS driver and I don't see each other nearly as often and I'm honestly not sure either of us knows how to handle it.  I may need some sort of support group when the daily dopamine hits officially come to an end.

The funny thing is, it's not because the excitement is fading, it's because the preparation is finally catching up.  Most of the wardrobe is finished, the paperwork has been submitted and the state costume is ready. There are still a few finishing touches, but the giant to-do list that once felt endless has gotten surprisingly short.

That's a weird feeling.

Somewhere along the way, my Google Drive became pageant headquarters.  Every outfit has its own folder and inside each folder are photos of the outfit itself, the shoes that go with it and the jewelry that completes the look. As we assign each outfit to its event during pageant week, we rename the folder so we know it's officially done.

If that sounds delightfully Type A, you would be correct.  I have, however, realized it's about more than organization.  In the middle of all the excitement, the packing lists and the countdown, that Google Drive has become my little corner of calm. Every renamed folder feels like one more piece of the puzzle falling into place. One more reminder that progress doesn't always happen in giant leaps. Sometimes it happens one outfit, one checklist and, yes, one shoe delivery at a time.

The interesting thing about preparation is that eventually it asks something different of you.  At first, it asks you to work, then it asks you to trust.

There comes a point where you stop asking yourself what else you should be doing and start realizing you've done the work. Not perfectly - because we all know that perfect doesn’t actually exist - but thoughtfully and intentionally.

I still have interview preparation ahead of me. I still have a couple of packages making their way to Montana (because apparently I have a very specific shoe-related condition). More than anything, I'm learning that this part of the journey isn't about adding more, it's about appreciating what's already been done.

Three months ago, this all felt so far away but, today, it feels real.  Not because of the countdown or the dresses or the shoes.  It feels real because I'm beginning to trust the preparation more than the checklist and I have a feeling that's exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Four weeks from today, I'll be in Las Vegas for Mrs. America….that sentence feels a little surreal to type.

For months, this competition has felt like something that lived way out on the calendar. There were forms to complete, photos to submit, appearances to schedule, interviews to prepare for and what has become a truly impressive collection of shoes to acquire.

Now, somehow, we're only four weeks away. Most of the big pieces are in place. The paperwork is finished, the state costume is ready, the wardrobe is nearly complete, the interview preparation is well underway and my Google Drive has officially become home to a folder for every single outfit, complete with coordinating shoes and jewelry because, apparently, that's who I am now.

My Type-A personality has absolutely loved this part of the process.

The funny thing is, I thought the planning would slow down once everything was ordered. Instead, I seem to have developed a completely reasonable habit of tracking shipping notifications and convincing myself there might still be room for one more pair of shoes.

I'm beginning to think I may need some sort of support group when the daily deliveries stop. What exactly am I supposed to do when the UPS driver and I aren't seeing each other quite so often?

Beneath all of that excitement is another realization. Life doesn't pause just because something exciting is coming. Work is still busy, projects are still moving, people still deserve my full attention.

In fact, two weeks after Mrs. America, I'll step into another huge event in my professional life with a different audience and a different wardrobe but with the same excitement and certainly the same preparation.

It's a good reminder that life isn't made up of one defining moment, it's made up of seasons. Right now, I'm trying not to rush this one. It would be easy to spend every day mentally fast-forwarding to Las Vegas, but I don't want to wish away the part I'm living right now because this season has been unexpectedly joyful.

I've learned so many things, met incredible people, laughed at myself more than once, dreamed about pageants and, perhaps most importantly, discovered that preparing for Mrs. America requires significantly more shoes than any reasonable person would expect.

I've loved every minute of it.

Four weeks from today, this chapter will look very different, but today I still get to be in the middle of it and I have a feeling that's the part I'll remember just as much as the competition itself.

If you've never prepared for Mrs. America, you probably imagine it's mostly glamorous events, pretty dresses and the occasional photo shoot.  There are moments like that but they're actually a very small part of the story.

The reality is that preparing for Mrs. America becomes a little like taking on a very fun part-time job.  There's social media to create, blog posts to write, workouts to fit in around work, appearances to attend, travel to coordinate and somehow a wardrobe that seems to multiply every time I turn around.

I genuinely thought I'd be able to get away with just a handful of shoes. I was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Apparently every outfit has opinions about which shoes belong with it and, as someone who already has a slight (or not-so-slight) shoe addiction, this has not helped my situation.

Then there's the wardrobe planning.  I don't think I realized how much thought goes into every single event.  There are three outfits almost every day, plus competition wardrobe, shoes, jewelry and accessories.

My Type-A personality has absolutely embraced this challenge.

I now have a Google Drive with a folder for every outfit, complete with photos of the clothing, shoes and jewelry so I can start assigning each look to its event during pageant week.

If that sounds a little over the top...You're probably right but it's also oddly satisfying.

I've also noticed something funny.  I'm dreaming about pageants.  Apparently my subconscious has decided we're fully committed now.  Even my workouts have taken on a different purpose.  There are definitely moments where I think about swimsuit competition while I'm at the gym because it's surprisingly effective motivation.

One thing that has surprised me most is that everything matters.  Not in a stressful way but in a thoughtful way.

Every appearance, every conversation, every detail, and every opportunity to represent Montana well.

I have a whole new appreciation for what goes into preparing for something like this.

Here's the part I didn't expect…it's so much fun!  I know that probably sounds strange after everything I just described, but it's true.  There are days I genuinely feel like a real-life Barbie getting to play dress-up.

There are garment bags hanging everywhere, shoes somehow reproducing overnight and enough sparkle in our house that I'm fairly certain we'll still be finding glitter years from now.

I wouldn't change any of it because I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  Someday the dresses will be packed away, the schedule will slow down, the glitter will (mostly) disappear but I'll never regret fully embracing every moment of this journey while I had the chance.

Maybe that's the lesson.  Some opportunities aren't meant to be managed as efficiently as possible, they're meant to be experienced completely.

I think we celebrate accomplishments a lot more than we celebrate the people who quietly made them possible.

When someone reaches a big goal, we usually notice the moment they cross the finish line. The crown or the promotion or the award or the milestone.  What we don't always see are all the people who helped carry them there.

One of the things this journey to Mrs. America has reminded me of is that none of us accomplish anything entirely on our own.

Yes, one person eventually walks onto the stage, but an awful lot of people helped her get there.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

My husband has somehow managed to turn this entire adventure into our adventure. He's the first person to celebrate the exciting moments, the first person to brainstorm the next crazy idea and the first person to remind me why I started when I inevitably have one of those "What am I doing?" moments.

Somehow, he's having almost as much fun with this journey as I am.

That kind of support is a gift.

My parents have always believed I could do more than I believed I could do myself. Even now, having them here this weekend has reminded me how much confidence can grow when someone simply believes in you before you've fully figured things out yourself.

Then there are the friends who answer texts, cheer from the sidelines, show up at appearances, share social media posts and somehow make every milestone feel like it's theirs too.  There are colleagues who encourage me, sponsors who chose to invest in this journey and complete strangers who have sent the kindest messages at exactly the right time.

And then there's Cindy Archer, our Pageant Director.

One of the things I've appreciated most about Cindy is that she has this remarkable ability to make every titleholder feel incredibly supported while still encouraging us to become our own version of Mrs. Montana.

She guides us, she encourages us, she celebrates us and then she trusts us to go out into our communities and make the title our own.

That's a rare kind of leadership.  The older I get, the more I realize success is rarely an individual accomplishment.  It usually looks like one person standing in the spotlight while a whole community quietly stands behind them.

I hope I never forget that because someday this journey will end, the crown will eventually belong to someone else, the appearances will slow down and the schedule will change but the relationships built along the way…those are the things that last.

Maybe that's the real achievement.  Not simply reaching the goal, but realizing how many wonderful people helped you become the person who was capable of reaching it.

There's a big difference between quietly working toward a goal and pursuing one where people can watch.

When your goals are private, you don't think much about them beyond the work itself. You make progress, you make mistakes, you learn as you go and very few people know the difference.

When your goals become visible, everything changes.

Suddenly people are cheering for you. They're encouraging you, asking questions and following along. That's been one of the greatest gifts of this Mrs. America journey. The kindness and support I've received from people, many of whom I've never even met, has been incredibly humbling.

But visibility comes with something else too.  It comes with opinions, assumptions, and expectations.

People only see pieces of your story, and it's human nature to fill in the rest.

They see the crown, the events and the photos. They don't always see the early mornings, the long workdays, the practice sessions squeezed in after hours, the moments of self-doubt or the quiet decisions that happen when no one else is around.

And that's okay.

I've realized that once your goals become visible, part of the work is becoming comfortable with the fact that not everyone will fully understand your journey.

Some people will cheer you on, some people will misunderstand your intentions, some people will have opinions based on a very small piece of the picture but none of those things get to decide whether your goal is worthwhile.

That's something I've had to remind myself more than once.  You can't spend your energy trying to manage everyone else's perception of you.  You have to spend it becoming the person you said you wanted to become.

I also think visibility has a funny way of creating accountability.  When people know what you're working toward, you show up differently. Not because you're performing for them, but because you've made a promise out loud.

There's something powerful about that.

This journey has taught me that courage isn't just walking onto a stage or standing behind a microphone.  Sometimes courage is simply allowing people to see you try, to grow, to learn and to see you fall short once in a while and keep going anyway.

That's a vulnerable place to be, but it's also where some of the most meaningful growth happens. That's the price - and the privilege - of pursuing something meaningful.

The more visible your dream becomes, the more visible you become too. Maybe courage isn't having everyone understand your journey…maybe courage is continuing it anyway.

Somewhere along the way, I think a lot of us quietly start believing we're supposed to be finished.  Finished growing, finished changing and finished discovering new parts of ourselves as if adulthood comes with an invisible deadline where we decide who we are and spend the rest of our lives simply maintaining it.

I don't think that's true.  If anything, I've found the opposite.  The older I get, the more permission I've given myself to keep evolving.

This journey to Mrs. America is a perfect example.

If you had told me years ago that I'd be preparing for a national pageant, reading to kindergarten classes, advocating for women in construction, all while navigating a really fun career, I probably would have laughed.

Not because those things weren't possible but because I simply couldn't see them yet.

That's the interesting thing about reinvention.  It rarely starts with having the whole plan…it starts with saying yes to one opportunity, then another, then another.  Before you know it, you've become someone your younger self never could have imagined.

I recently had a conversation on a podcast about identity, and one idea really stayed with me.

Work doesn't have to be your identity.

For a long time, I think many of us allow one role to define us.  Our career.  Our title.  Our relationship.  Our responsibilities.

None of those things are wrong but they're only part of who we are.  I've realized that one dream doesn't have to replace another, it can simply become part of a bigger story.

That young woman who loved being a cheerleader still exists.  She just cheers differently now.

Instead of standing on the sidelines, I find myself cheering for women chasing big goals, for children discovering new possibilities and for people who simply need someone to believe in them for a little while.

That might be my favorite reinvention of all.

I've also realized reinvention doesn't require walking away from everything you've built.  Sometimes it simply means building something new alongside it.  Adding another chapter instead of closing the book.

The journey to Mrs. America hasn't changed who I am, it's reminded me of who I've always been.  Curious.  Hopeful.  Competitive.  Encouraging.  Someone who genuinely believes people are capable of more than they think.

Maybe that's what reinvention really is.  Not becoming someone completely different but becoming more completely yourself.  No matter how old you are, you're still allowed to dream another dream, you're still allowed to surprise yourself, and you're still allowed to become someone your younger self would be incredibly proud to meet.

One of the most surprising things about pursuing a goal publicly is how easy it becomes to compare yourself to other people.

At first, it seems harmless enough.  You see someone doing something impressive. Maybe it's another contestant, another leader, another speaker or another woman pursuing a goal of her own. You admire what she's doing and you genuinely feel happy for her success.

That's the healthy part.  The tricky part is when admiration quietly turns into comparison which happens faster than we like to admit.

Suddenly you're not just appreciating someone else's strengths, you're measuring them against your own. You're looking at where they are, what they've accomplished, how polished they seem, how confident they appear and somehow convincing yourself you're falling behind.

I've caught myself doing it, not just during this journey, but throughout different seasons of life.  In business, in leadership, and, more recently, on social media.  Even in moments where I should have been focused on my own growth.

Comparison has a way of stealing your attention from the very thing that matters most.

You.

The funny thing is that we're usually comparing things that were never meant to be compared in the first place.  We're comparing our behind-the-scenes to someone else's highlight reel, we're comparing our beginning to someone else's middle, and we're comparing our insecurities to someone else's confidence.

Most of the time, we don't even have the full story.

That's the part people don't see.  The woman you admire may be carrying doubts you know nothing about.  The person who seems incredibly confident may be questioning herself more than you realize. The person whose life looks effortless may be working harder than anyone can see.

I've already had moments during this Mrs. America journey where I've looked at another contestant and thought, "Wow, she's incredible."  And she probably is.

The lesson I've had to learn is that her strengths don't diminish mine and my strengths don't diminish hers.  Both things can be true at the same time.  One woman's success does not take anything away from another woman's potential.

In fact, I think some of the strongest women I've met understand that deeply.  They're able to celebrate someone else's accomplishments without making it mean something negative about their own.

That's not always easy, but it's incredibly freeing.  The older I get, the more I realize that growth happens much faster when you stop keeping score, stop measuring your progress against everyone around you, and stop assuming everyone else has it all figured out.  When you focus your energy on becoming a little better than you were yesterday instead of becoming someone else entirely.

Because the goal was never to become her, the goal was always to become the fullest version of yourself.

The real competition isn't with the woman standing next to you, it's with the version of yourself that wants to play small.

When people hear the word leadership, they often picture someone standing at the front of the room.

Someone with a title, a corner office, a microphone or a large team reporting to them.

I used to think leadership looked a little like that too but the longer I've worked, volunteered, served and lived, the more I've realized leadership is usually much quieter than people imagine.

Some of the strongest leaders I know aren't the loudest people in the room.  They're the people who consistently show up,  the people who make others feel seen, the people who take responsibility when things go wrong and share the credit when things go right and the people who influence others without needing recognition for it.

The journey to Mrs. America has given me a front-row seat to that lesson.

Over the past couple months, I've had the chance to get to know many of the women in this year's class through social media. While we won't all be together in person until August, I've already been inspired by the impact they're making in their own communities.

What they have in common isn't a title, it's impact.

That's one of the biggest misconceptions about leadership. We tend to think leadership begins when someone gives us permission.

When we get promoted or when we have enough experience or when we feel qualified or when someone officially puts us in charge.

But leadership rarely works that way.

Leadership starts long before the title arrives.  It starts when you decide to take ownership, when you encourage someone who's struggling, when you raise your hand to help and when you choose courage over comfort.

Some of the most influential moments in my own life have had nothing to do with job titles or organizational charts.

They've come from people who simply cared enough to show up.

A teacher.  A mentor.  A friend.  A volunteer.  Someone who probably had no idea the impact they were making at the time.

That's what makes leadership so powerful.  You don't have to be the most experienced person in the room, you don't have to have the biggest platform, and you don't have to have everything figured out.

You simply have to be willing to influence the environment around you in a positive way.

I think that's especially important for women to remember.  We often underestimate our influence because it doesn't always look dramatic.

Sometimes leadership looks like speaking up or listening or creating opportunities for someone else and sometimes it looks like believing in someone before they believe in themselves.

Leadership isn't reserved for a select few, it's available to every one of us.  Not because of a title but because of a choice.

More often than not, the leaders who make the biggest difference are the ones who never stop making that choice.

I think a lot of women spend years learning how to make themselves smaller.

Not physically smaller, just quieter, less noticeable, less demanding and less likely to inconvenience anyone.  We learn to soften our opinions, downplay our accomplishments and apologize for things that probably don’t require an apology.

We get really good at saying things like, “This may be a bad idea, but…” before sharing an idea we know is perfectly valid.  We diminish ourselves before anyone else gets the chance.

I think many of us do it without even realizing it.

The interesting thing about stepping into something visible, whether it’s leadership, public speaking, pageantry or simply putting yourself out there in a new way, is that it forces you to confront how comfortable you are being seen and being seen can feel surprisingly vulnerable.

Not because you don’t belong there but because visibility creates the possibility of judgment.

If you stay small, stay quiet and stay safely in the background, there’s less risk and less criticism. There’s less opportunity to get it wrong.

There’s also less opportunity to make an impact.

The journey to Mrs. America has reminded me of that more than once.  This is a very visible experience. People are watching. Oh, and do people have opinions. People make assumptions and while most of them are incredibly kind and supportive, visibility always comes with a little vulnerability.

The same thing happens in leadership, the same thing happens when you speak on a stage and the same thing happens when you raise your hand for an opportunity, launch something new, share an idea or decide to pursue a goal that other people might not fully understand.

You become visible and that’s usually the moment many women start negotiating with themselves.

Am I qualified enough?  Am I ready?  What if I fail?  What if people judge me?  What if I look ridiculous?

I’ve learned that those questions rarely disappear completely.  What changes is your willingness to move forward anyway because confidence isn’t believing everyone will approve. 

Confidence is deciding their approval isn’t required.

That doesn’t mean becoming arrogant and it doesn’t mean taking up space at the expense of someone else.  It simply means understanding that your voice, your ideas, your experiences and your presence have value too.

You don’t have to earn the right to be seen.  You don’t have to shrink so other people feel comfortable.  You don’t have to apologize for having goals, ambition, opinions or a desire to contribute.

You’re allowed to take up space.

In fact, sometimes the very thing you’re worried about sharing is exactly what someone else needs to hear.  I’m still learning that lesson myself but I’m learning that playing small doesn’t serve anyone.

Not me and not the people I might be able to help by showing up fully.  Maybe that’s part of growth.  Not becoming louder, just becoming less afraid to be visible.

I think we romanticize motivation a little too much.

We wait for the perfect mood, the perfect energy, the perfect moment where we suddenly feel inspired enough to consistently do hard things.

Honestly, if I waited until I “felt like it” to do everything required in this season of life, absolutely none of it would get done.

There are plenty of days I don’t feel like working out. Plenty of days I don’t feel like filming content, answering emails, practicing, preparing, showing up socially or doing one more thing after an already long day.  Oh, and most of this preparation is happening after work hours, in between meetings, flights, responsibilities and regular life.  It’s a lot less glamorous than people probably imagine.

That’s normal.

I think sometimes people assume disciplined people are somehow more motivated than everyone else. I don’t actually think that’s true.  I think disciplined people just make fewer decisions based on emotion because motivation is inconsistent. It comes and goes. It’s exciting when it shows up, but it’s also wildly unreliable.

Discipline is different.  Discipline quietly says, “I know you’re tired. Do it anyway.”  Not in a toxic, run-yourself-into-the-ground kind of way but in a commitment kind of way. In a “you said this mattered to you” kind of way.

The journey to Mrs. America has definitely reinforced that for me already.

There are glamorous moments, of course. But there are also very unglamorous moments where the alarm goes off early (like, soooo early), the schedule feels packed and the last thing you want to do is put on heels and practice your walk in a gym while your pets supervise like tiny judgmental life coaches.

And yet you do it anyway.  It’s not because every day feels exciting but because consistency matters more than temporary feelings.

I also think women sometimes underestimate how powerful it is to simply become someone who follows through.  Maybe not perfectly, or flawlessly or not with endless energy and enthusiasm every second of the day, just consistently.

Showing up when you feel inspired is easy, showing up when you’re tired, discouraged, overwhelmed or doubting yourself a little is where confidence actually gets built.  That’s where trust in yourself gets built too, because every time you continue anyway, you prove to yourself that your feelings are allowed to exist but they don’t get to drive the car.

Honestly, I think a lot of growth in life comes down to that - not waiting until you feel fearless or until everything feels easy or until motivation magically appears, but just continuing to take the next step anyway.

Some days the step is big and productive and some days the step is simply keeping the promise you made to yourself.

Both still count.

I think one of the biggest misconceptions about chasing a big goal is that life somehow pauses while you do it.  It does not.

There’s no magical moment where your calendar clears, your responsibilities disappear and you suddenly become a woman standing in perfect lighting with unlimited time, emotional bandwidth and a Stanley cup full of inner peace.

At least if that version exists, I’d love her contact information.

Real life keeps moving while you’re trying to build something meaningful.

Work deadlines still happen, laundry still exists in aggressive quantities (but whhhyyyyy), emails multiply like they’re in a witness protection program, the dog needs something, the family needs something and your phone is permanently attached to a charger because apparently 74% battery now qualifies as an emergency and somewhere in the middle of all that you’re still trying to show up for the goal.

That’s the part I think people don’t always see with something like Mrs. America preparation. Yes, there are the glamorous moments. The dresses, the photos, the events and all the exciting parts people naturally notice first but there’s also real life happening simultaneously.

There are conference calls and grocery runs and trying to steam an outfit while answering work emails. There are moments where I’m practicing walking in heels in my gym while the pets look at me like I’ve completely lost my mind..

Honestly?  They may not be wrong.

The older I get, the more I realize balancing big goals isn’t really about balance at all. It’s more about priorities, flexibility and giving yourself a little grace when everything doesn’t fit perfectly every single day.  Some days I feel incredibly focused and motivated and other days I’m Googling things like “how to look hydrated after four hours of sleep.”

It’s a journey.

I also think women carry a unique pressure to make everything look effortless. We’re somehow supposed to excel professionally, support everyone around us, pursue our goals, look polished doing it and never admit when we’re overwhelmed.

That’s exhausting.  I don’t think there’s anything weak about acknowledging that big goals require sacrifice, discipline and constant recalibration. In fact, I think that’s the strong part.

The women I admire most are not the ones pretending they have everything perfectly balanced. They’re the ones honestly doing their best while continuing to move forward anyway.

That feels a lot more real to me.

The truth is, I’m still figuring this out as I go (but who isn’t?) but I’m learning that meaningful growth rarely happens when life is perfectly calm and convenient, sometimes it happens in the middle of chaos, dry shampoo and a calendar that makes absolutely no sense.

Maybe that’s okay.  Maybe the goal isn’t to flawlessly balance every single piece of life at once.  Maybe the goal is simply to keep showing up for the things that matter most.

I think people misunderstand confidence all the time.

They think confidence is loud, untouchable and perfectly polished. They think it walks into a room without nerves, without insecurity and without ever questioning itself.

I don’t think that’s confidence at all.

Some of the most confident people I know still get nervous. They still overthink things sometimes and they still wonder if they’re making the right decision or if they’re really ready for what’s next.

The difference is they don’t let those thoughts run the show.

I think people also assume confidence is something you either naturally have or you don’t. Like some people were magically born knowing exactly who they are and everyone else is just trying to catch up.

That hasn’t been my experience.

Confidence is built. Quietly, repeatedly and usually in moments nobody sees.

It’s built every time you speak up when it would be easier to stay quiet. Every time you walk into a room where you don’t completely feel like you belong yet. Every time you try again after something didn’t go the way you hoped it would.

It’s built in action, not in theory.

Honestly, some of the moments where I’ve looked the most ‘confident’ on the outside were moments where I was actively talking myself through it internally. I’ve answered on-stage questions while mentally negotiating with my own nervous system.

That’s something I wish more women understood.  Confidence doesn’t mean you never doubt yourself, it means doubt doesn’t get the final vote.

The journey to Mrs. America has definitely given me opportunities to practice what I'm preaching.

There are moments that feel glamorous and exciting, of course. But there are also moments that stretch you a little, moments where you compare yourself and moments where you wonder if everyone else got some instruction manual you somehow missed.

And then you realize that most people are figuring it out as they go.  The women I admire most aren’t the ones pretending to have it all together, they’re the ones willing to keep showing up honestly, consistently and with heart.

That kind of confidence feels a lot more real to me.

Maybe confidence isn’t about becoming fearless.  Maybe it’s about deciding that fear doesn’t get to make your decisions anymore.

Starting something new sounds exciting. And it is… for about five minutes.

There’s this version of “starting something new” that looks really good from the outside.  Fresh energy, new goals and a little glow of possibility.

And don’t get me wrong - that part is real.  But so is the other part.  It’s the part where you question yourself, the part where you feel like you should be better at this already and the part where your confidence hasn’t quite caught up to your decision yet.

That’s the part people don’t talk about as much. It’s funny because I’ve started new chapters before. New roles, new challenges, new environments. I know what this feels like but it still humbles you every single time. 

Starting something new doesn’t care about your past experience, it asks you to show up as a beginner again, to be a little uncomfortable and to not have all the answers.

If you’re used to being competent, that can mess with you a little.

I’ve had moments already in this journey where I’ve thought,  “What am I doing?”  “Am I really ready for this?”  “Do I even belong here?”  Then I catch myself.  Those questions aren’t new, they’re just showing up in different outfits.

The difference now is I don’t let them make the decision for me.  I show up anyway.  Maybe not perfectly, maybe not with total confidence, but with intention and that’s the shift.

Starting something new isn’t about having it all figured out, it’s about being willing to figure it out, choosing growth over comfort and staying in the room even when it feels a little unfamiliar.  It’s about remembering that confidence is built in motion, not before it.  This journey is stretching me in all the right ways.  It’s reminding me what it feels like to be new again.

And honestly, that’s not a bad place to be.

You don’t have to feel ready to begin, you just have to be willing.

This probably wasn't on anyone's bingo card for me. Including mine.

There's this idea that at some point in life, you're supposed to "arrive" like you figure yourself out, settle into your lane, and just… stay there. For a while, I thought I had.

Great career, life in Montana, and a pace that felt more aligned with who I actually am now. Less noise, more meaning. It was good. Really good.

I also know I didn't start here.

My husband grew up in Montana, and the first time he brought me here, something in me just settled. It's hard to explain unless you've felt it, but this place has a way of slowing you down and waking you up at the same time.

I wasn't raised here, but I chose to be here.

That choice means something to me. It means respecting what makes this place special, listening more than I talk, and showing up for the community in a way that feels real - not performative.

Representing Montana, to me, isn't about where you started, it's about how you show up once you're here.

Saying yes to Mrs. Montana at this stage of my life wasn't obvious. It wasn't part of some long-term master plan. It was a feeling. A little nudge that said… there's more here.

And yes, this is about the platform, it's about impact and it's about using my voice in a different way and supporting work that actually matters, like what we're doing with the She Built Foundation.

But if I'm being really honest? It's also about something a little more personal.

I've spent years getting close. Close in pageants, close in big moments, close to opportunities that felt just within reach… but not quite mine. First runner-up. Second runner-up. Almost.

At some point, you start to wonder if "almost" is just your lane.

This time, I wanted something different.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually do it. That I could step onto a national stage representing my state - not almost, not close, but fully there.  Not because I need the validation, but because I've never done it before. There's something powerful about going after the thing that's always been just out of reach.

So yes, this is about the crown in some ways and it's definitely about the platform. But it's also about finishing something I've started more than once.  It's about showing up differently this time - with more clarity, more confidence, and a lot less need for perfection.

I don't need this to prove my worth but I do want to prove to myself that I can.  That I can walk into a space that once felt just out of reach… and own it.

So here we are. A little unexpected, a little outside my comfort zone, but exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Some things aren't about starting over. They're about finally finishing what you were meant to.