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Renee Dubeau

Finding your magic after life kicks your ass.

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love

Kindness Kits 101: How to spread love around your city and beyond.

When we see a problem too big to fix, we often throw our hands in the air and say, "Somebody should do something about this!" Maybe, we do this because we want our government, world leaders, big corporations or other... Continue Reading →

Where did “You Are Important” come from?

I live in an affluent little bubble in the suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee. The poverty and hunger here are well hidden, tucked away behind strip malls and subdivisions with cul-de-sacs and swimming pools. But, if you pay attention, you’ll see... Continue Reading →

How Liz Gilbert Kicked my Ass.

I have a handful of badass lady authors who I absolutely love. I love them for their realness, candor and unbelievable talent. I love them for their examples of what it means to live authentically without apology, to be who... Continue Reading →

Why Planning a Wedding in your Forties Rocks.

"You must be so stressed with all the wedding planning!" With our May wedding quickly approaching, I've heard this from just about everybody. I don't think they even believe me when I tell them how stress-free and fun the process... Continue Reading →

Kids are Resilient, and Unicorns are Real.

My kids are incredible humans. They've been through a lot in their lives, which has shaped them into kind, compassionate, wise young people. My son and I were up late the other night talking about relationships, when he said something... Continue Reading →

We need a Hero.

Do you ever wonder if the world would be a better place if run by baby chinchillas, unicorns, kittens or goats?

Are you looking for Love?

We sat across from one another, ordered appetizers to share, and just started talking.

He Helps Me Believe.

He helps me believe that I am ok, after years of believing I wasn't. And in that, I see how very wrong I was to hate my body, and punish myself for the misdeeds of others who failed to see her as sacred and perfect.

What it Means to Stand in my Truth.

My truth is: My first childhood memory is being molested.

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