Like many malls across the U.S., our local mall closed. Today.

A few stores hung on the very end but the vast majority have been gone for well over a year. The good news is that the property was sold to a company that will be using it for engineering and office space.

This past winter (which was particularly cold and snowy here in Southeastern Connecticut) mall management opened the doors to anyone who wanted to walk their dogs, so Tim and I took Scout there a few times.

There's also a play area for kids that was open, and right next to the play area was a pop-up "shop" with ridable electric "animals" (think tigers, panda bears, unicorns, and so on).

Every time we went, I found myself wanting to take one for a ride. It's not that I was ashamed or embarrassed to, but something held me back.

We went for last time this past Sunday and I decided what the heck hell, I'm gonna ride the tiger.

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I was laughing so hard I cried, and that reminded me of my father, who would have been 91 today.

And THAT reminded me of a concept I love: "favorite self."

Not best self or highest self, but favorite self.

When I am being my favorite self, I am...

...mischievous. Like the times I used to hide in my house and shine a laser light on the sidewalk when peopled walked by.

...hiding in closets waiting for my husband to walk by so I can jump out and scare him, but usually I start laughing (or need to pee) before I can scare him. I literally have to hold my hand over my mouth but it doesn't always work.

...crying with a client because if crying with a client is wrong I don't want to be right.

...playing hide-and-seek with Scout.

...inappropriately laughing in a situation that does not call for it. Like the time, a loooong time ago I had Thanksgiving dinner with my Dad at some fancy-schmancy restaurant in North Conway, NH, and something got said and before we knew it, we were laughing so hard we couldn't speak and tears were running down our faces, and people were looking at us and that just made us laugh even harder.

...talking back to a recipe and saying "I don’t think so" and then taking the easy way out.

...whispering "me too" when a client tells me she sometimes wishes her mother were dead (knowing that my mother used to sometimes wish the same thing about her mother).

...telling a story that makes people's eyes widen and their skin get goosebumps.

So I want to know: who are you when you are being your favorite self?

Because really and truly, your favorite self (aka your intentional identity) is the antidote to the shame-based stories you carry as identity.

Much, much love (and mischief),

Karen