The Power of a Good Dinner Table The night after UGA, I didn’t want noise or celebration. I just wanted connection. So when my girlfriends suggested dinner, I said yes without overthinking.

We sat together around the table, talking about everything and nothing all at once. The kind of conversation that fills you up more than the food ever could. The laughter was easy, the energy soft, and for the first time in a long time, I felt the world slow down enough for me to breathe.

Honestly, it ended up being my favorite part of the whole trip. Not the hotel, not the presentation, not even the peach drink with Chardonnay — that dinner. The kind that sneaks up on you and reminds you how good life can feel when you’re surrounded by the right people.

And let me tell you, I don’t normally eat steak. It melted like butter in my mouth. I looked at my plate, looked at my friends, and just smiled.

For once, I wasn’t “the speaker” or “the advocate.” I was just me. The girl who orders the same drink every time. The one who shows up with a smile that says, “Yeah, I did the thing — and I’m still standing.”

a group of fancy cocktails

After the presentation, I was proud, but at dinner, I felt validated. There’s a difference. Validation doesn’t come from applause. It comes from being surrounded by people who get you. Who reminds you that you can be both powerful and soft, confident and still learning.

Someone said, “You just look so happy,” and I realized I really was. Not because of what I did earlier that day, but because of who I got to share the night with.

After the year I’ve had, hearing someone say, “Your feelings and experiences are valid,” was everything. It was like someone finally saw the chapters I’d been too tired to explain. That kind of honesty fills the spaces applause can’t reach. It reminded me that healing doesn’t always come from the spotlight. Sometimes it comes from sitting across the table from people who make you feel seen, not studied.

That dinner was the calm after the storm, the deep breath after the spotlight. The moment I stopped performing and just existed — fully, freely, and with good company.

On my way out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the restaurant window. Hair a little messy, makeup fading, still glowing. Not from the stage lights this time, but from being seen.

Here’s to good steak, honest conversations, and the kind of nights that remind you you’re not just fine — you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. 🥂