Mar
06
2026

How Do You Find Your Voice Again After Years of Turning It Down?

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“How do you start turning up your own voice when it feels like it’s been turned down so much you can barely hear it anymore?” That question came from a fellow Orange Rhino. And my heart skipped a beat when I read it because… that was me. Circa 2016 until… well… still working on it. For years I slowly turned my own volume down. Pushing my thoughts down. Pushing my feelings down.

Meanwhile the “you’re not…” voices (fill in the blank with any doubting thought) got louder and louder. And the antenna of my intuition? It went from strong and upright… to bent and quiet. (cue: tears) Those weren’t fun years. In trying not to feel pain, I created more of it. I made decisions that honored others but ignored what my gut knew to be true.

And the outcomes almost always disappointed me. I took forever to make decisions because I forgot how to trust myself. I forgot how to believe in my abilities.

So I stayed stuck. Stuck feeling blech. Stuck living a life shaped by decisions that didn’t quite feel like me. And the self-doubt only grew because I kept asking myself: “Why don’t I trust myself?” “Why don’t I listen to myself anymore?” So yes. That question hit a nerve. A beautiful one. My friend, the answer is this: You start slowly. With love. With patience. And with the understanding that you won’t always get it right.

But over time, you get better. And that practice? That is getting it right. During my kitchen renovation there was a major mistake coming. I saw it before it even happened.

But my voice? I quieted it (and paid for it later. Sigh.) “Nah… trust the professionals,” I told myself. Right. Trust the professionals.

But here’s the thing I finally realized: I am the professional of my inner instincts. Of my feelings. Of the quiet voice inside trying to speak up.

When the renovation was finished, major mistake corrected, I stood in my cozy, bright white kitchen that I loved. I admired all the little details I had been told not to do.

And I said to myself: “You did this. You did this by listening to yourself.” I remember calling my mom and saying, “And you know what mom? I designed it. When am I going to start listening to myself more? Trusting my abilities again? Seeing what I’m capable of?” I wasn’t bragging. I was having a breakthrough.

So how do you start turning your voice back up and having your own breakthrough? You PR (don’t ask how my brain came up with that, but honestly, perfect here!) Practice. Reflect. Praise. Record. Patiently Repeat. Practice by showing up for yourself and trying to listen. It might be small. “I want tacos for dinner.” So… tacos it is. Reflect when something feels off. Ask yourself why. Then ask again. And again. (Often, if I’m honest, the answer hiding underneath is fear.) Praise and record the moments you do listen.

“See? I did it.” “See? I followed through.” “See? I trusted myself.” Give that quiet voice evidence. Proof that it’s getting stronger. Help it feel safe speaking up again. And most importantly… patiently repeat.

Because your voice doesn’t come back all at once. It comes back in tiny moments of trusting yourself. A decision here. A boundary there. A quiet “no.” A brave “yes.” Until one day you notice something surprising. You can hear yourself again. And you realize the voice you thought you lost? It was never missing. It was just waiting for you to start listening again. And you realize, my gosh, this feels great. Let’s start now.

What’s one thing your inner voice kept telling you… that you finally listened to — and it turned out you were right? I want to hear all about it and celebrate with you. For real.

Sending my warmth to you today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Mar
05
2026

Anxiety vs. Depression: What I Misunderstood About My Own Symptoms

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I was shocked to receive the diagnosis: anxiety. For years, the word used to describe some of my grayer days was depression.

Turns out, a lot of what I thought was depression was actually anxiety. But I didn’t realize that at the time. Something happened when my oldest was about 6 and my youngest was about 1. One of my friends made a loving comment that I seemed a lot less anxious around my kids that day. At first I was aghast. How dare she? What? Me? Anxious? I’m cool. Calm. Collected.

But she was right. My heart wasn’t racing as much. My brain also wasn’t. And my shirt, well, it didn’t need to go to the dry cleaner that day. My oldest has severe ADHD. My anxiety was through the roof when he was younger, driven by my worries about what people would say about us in public or in private settings. Her comment made me reflect on how I acted and how I parented. It helped me start to change some of my behaviors. (Which was a good thing, because those were the early days of The Orange Rhino Challenge®.) Fast forward five years to my divorce era.

I was talking with my therapist about how hard the days were. She mentioned treating me for situational depression. I agreed. Then she said, “And I think you should mention anxiety to the psychiatrist too.” There it was again. The A word. “What?” I said. “I don’t have anxiety.” But then I paused. My therapist was right. And you know what? It was an incredible relief to accept that.

Turns out, so much of my “depression” was actually driven by anxiety. (Not long after, I also learned ADHD was part of my struggles. Like my skin cancer, that diagnosis took a lot of advocating. A story for another day.) I’ve learned a lot about anxiety since that day in my therapist’s office. She taught me a lot of skills. I taught myself a lot about, well… me.

But the best thing I ever learned? This: Try your best to not worry now. Wait until you know facts. If your fears don’t come true, you wasted energy and felt bad for no reason. If they do come true? Then they hurt twice — in the moment, and in all the anxious moments leading up to it. Mic. Drop. The picture in this post? It’s my current hairstyle.

And it is sooooo much better than I expected. My anxiety was understandable — I don’t dismiss it. I try to understand what it’s telling me.

But I’m also grateful I didn’t wallow in it for weeks leading up to the procedure (a few hours here and there? Yep. Totally did. I’m human) Because when I used to wallow in anxiety, I snapped at my kids more. I wasn’t as present as I wanted to be. And when I was present? I wasn’t exactly fun to be around. I was on edge. Which meant I enjoyed fewer moments. I spiraled during the day, got off track, and then felt even more anxious at night.

My relationship with anxiety still needs work. (Don’t most relationships?) Teenagers driving, going to college, making big decisions on their own will absolutely test anxiety. But I’m doing better. And I’m grateful for my therapist. And for that friend years ago who planted the seed. Sometimes one honest comment is the beginning of a completely different life. We just have to be open to hearing it. I know. Easier said than done.

So. Much. Easier. Kinda like managing anxiety. If depression, anxiety, or ADHD are part of your story, welcome. I get it. And if you don’t have a formal diagnosis but perimenopause has brought on some very similar symptoms… also welcome. Heck, welcome everyone. Sending my warmth to you, today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Mar
03
2026

I Miss the Old Me: How I’m Finding My Way Back to the Parts of Myself I Love

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Somedays, I miss the “old me.” The one who once wore a Shrek costume, stood in the elementary school drop-off lane, and welcomed everyone (and I mean everyone) to school. It was Halloween. I was leading the play and wanted a fun way to promote the kick-off meeting. No hesitation. No shame. Absolutely zero fear. 100% courage and “what do I have to lose?” I’ve also used to be a live auctioneer at fundraisers. I once stood in front of most of my company, mic in hand, spotlight on, and called out my Chief Marketing Officer to raise his bid.

I was 22. Maybe 23. Not even a year on the job. Talk about courage — or audacity. Your call. I still laugh at the fact that I did that. Like, seriously Sheil?! Some days I wonder where that girl has gone. (News flash: she hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s just been on vacation. Rumor has it she’s boarding the flight home. Hopefully she will stay a wee bit longer this time.) Seriously though — she’s not fully here right now, as I type out this post.

Because I’m oddly nervous. Afraid to take a very simple step. With people who aren’t even my boss. (Okay. We can call it what it is. Fear of rejection. Fear of officially taking a step forward. So…we’ll add fear of failure to that list.) So I’m borrowing a little Shrek-level boldness and auctioneer confidence and going for it.

Also known as, Orange Rhino-ness (Just came up with the word. I like it. It stays.) –> I’m looking for 5–10 women who’d be willing to help me as I prepare to wear one of my new “hats” this spring. If that sounds fun — or even mildly intriguing — and you’re willing to publicly share a photo, comment below and send me a message. That way I won’t miss it (hi, ADHD!) If more than 10 reach out, I’ll randomly choose. Happy Tuesday!

And happy me literally wearing a hat again after a week. Even if I couldn’t properly rest it on my head lol.

Sending my warmth, today and always.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Mar
01
2026

Perimenopause or Just Life? Why I’m Tired of Blaming Hormones for Everything

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I’ve been getting flustered lately. Like…surprisingly easily flustered. I know, I know. Hormones. Perimenopause. What if I told you I’m tired of blaming perimenopause for everything? (lol, not just, I’m tired, that’s a given!) Hear me out.

When I was in elementary school, I had a saying. I have absolutely, positively no idea where it came from. It wasn’t my parents or a teacher. Not even a coach. I just said it one day and it stuck. “I don’t mind complaining, as long as you’re gonna do something about it. Complain to me all you want, but then you gotta act.” Apparently ten-year-old me was onto something.

Because I gotta be honest. When I keep blaming perimenopause — and then don’t actually change anything — I don’t feel better. I still feel frustrated with myself, my mood, and everything within a two foot radius. Make that one foot. And before everyone says to give myself grace (and you all know I’m all for giving myself and others grace)… I gotta be even more honest. There comes a point where giving myself grace becomes a crutch, an excuse.

I know. A little rhino tough. Hear me out again. There’s a difference between grace and avoidance. So, back to where this whole post started. Lately, I’ve been flipping out faster than I’d like. Overwhelmed in a light-switch kind of way. Fine one minute. Not fine the next. Are hormones part of it? Probably. Yes.

But I also know this: My nervous system is fried. I’m not prioritizing feeling at ease the way I could be. The caffeine isn’t helping (although my Costa Rica coffee really is excellent and is there anything better than a perfect Diet Coke, mini sized of course.) And yes, I need to make the appointment to at least explore HRT, even if the answer ends up being no for me. Hormones may be part of the story.

But they’re not the whole story. And I don’t want to shrug and just say, “oh well, there’s nothing I can do until my hormones are under control.” I don’t want to give myself a pass when I know I could be doing things to help myself. I know this is a wee bit more direct and blunt than I normally write. I’m writing them to myself with love actually — and from a place of strength. Along with these sudden mini-sized-panic attacks becoming a thing, Sheila getting her groove back is most definitely a thing.

And my spine;) When I started writing in 2012 about learning to yell less, I wrote without much fear. It was freeing. Then somewhere along the way, I shrank. Truly. I’ve been crawling out since 2018 ish. Last month was Fearless February. I’m going to carry that feeling all of 2026. I think you’re going to find that I’m writing a little more bluntly from here on out. It’s just so much more freeing to be less concerned with what people think 😉 and more concerned with attracting the right kind of people to this community.

I mentioned yesterday that I’ve got things in the works. I do. Like, I want 20-year-old energy Sheila who didn’t need sleep so I can easily raise my kiddos and launch my secret projects. I am *that* excited. Since that’s not happening lol, I’m gonna need a crash (a group of rhinos) behind me to make everything happen when I’m ready.

So yes, I want this place to grow. I used to be afraid to admit that. Afraid to admit that I want to take up space. Not anymore. It’s a new month, by the way. New month, new word. No fancy word this month. March speaks for itself. I’m MARCHing forward, one step at a time.

Sending my warmth to you today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Feb
28
2026

Why a Post About Kindness Made People Unfollow Me

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Truth? It’s both hysterical and sad. My kindness post from the other day is one of my most viewed. It thanked the people who showed up for me. It honored vulnerability. It talked about how one small act can shift everything. And I’m being unfollowed at a massive rate because of it. That part makes me laugh. And shake my head. And feel a little sad. I didn’t realize talking about kindness was such a lightning rod.

I mean, I guess I did mention skin cancer. And I mentioned crying. And yep, I mentioned having my head shaved. All those things are on the heavier side which can be a lot for some people.

So maybe I kinda get it. Here’s the thing though. I will never stop being vulnerable. The personal messages I’ve received? Worth every unfollow. And here’s the part that really matters: You know who didn’t unfollow me? Me. I used to shudder at unfollows. Now? I feel stronger from it, safer even. I want to be surrounded by people who lift each other up. I want US to be surrounded by the same.

And I want to call out kindness when I see it. I want to talk about heavy when it’s heavy. All without wondering if people will judge me, understand me, or secretly roll their eyes at me. I want to live a fully authentic, aligned life. A life where I acknowledge that it is both/and. A life where I embrace gray and celebrate orange.

And I plan to keep spreading this message because I think it’s needed. Desperately. So, if you want picture perfect, always light and lovely posts, I’m not your gal. That’s okay. If you want honest, human, warm — I so hope you stay. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Plus, some really cool things are coming. They are delayed, but they are coming.

And I simply can not wait to share them with all of you and have you share them with the world.

Sending my warmth out to you all today, and everyday,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Feb
27
2026

Why We Say “I’m Fine” When We’re Absolutely Not

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Do you ever pretend you’re fine… when you’re absolutely not? (Rhetorical question) I have a serious case of the “I’m fine’s” right now. You know the ones: “I’m fine, really.” “It’s no big deal.” “I’m good. It’s all good.” (Andy Grammer may be good. But if I’m being honest with myself, honey I’m not good) Why is it so hard to just say: “Yeah… today sucked.” “I know I’ll be okay, but right now? This stinks.” “I’m frustrated. I thought I’d feel better by now.” Like seriously, why can’t I just be totally honest with others more often?

When my best friend called the other night and said, “Sheil!!! Why didn’t you tell me you were having another procedure?” My answer? “I didn’t want to be a burden.” Oof.

Here’s the truth: I’ve been told before that I’m “too much.” That I’m “seeking attention.” That I “just want to be sick.” So somewhere along the way, I taught myself: Keep it in. Say you’re fine. Don’t inconvenience anyone. Even though I know I can trust my real friends… Even though I know I can share my shite sandwiches… I still struggle. I’m re-teaching my brain that I can share the hard stuff. That I can be “not fine” and also know “I will be fine” at the same time.

Practice is exhausting. But it’s working. Every day I accept the gray a little more and still create orange anyway. Every day I practice being real with myself. Some days go better than others.

But most days? I feel lighter. I want us all to feel that way today. I want to try something. If this applies to you, drop one honest “not fine” truth in the comments. Just one. And let’s reply to each other with actual support. No fixing. No minimizing. Just: “I see you” or some other loving message.” I have a feeling a lot of us are carrying something quietly. Let’s all feel a little bit better today, together.

Sending my warmth to all of you, especially those who aren’t feeling fine and also (understandably) don’t feel comfortable yet sharing with others. I see you. I get it.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Feb
25
2026

Skin Cancer Surgery, Fear and the Relief of Not Being Judged

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I kept trying not to cry. I knew getting upset would make it all hurt more. But I couldn’t help it. I did okay during the local anesthesia on my scalp. I made some weird noises out of discomfort. Wiggled my feet even. Otherwise I stayed perfectly still (kinda had no choice lol) The nurse? No judgement. Just a loving, gentle, “it’s okay, make all the noises you need to make. Wiggle your toes. Hum. Whatever helps you.

You’re doing great.” How nice not to be judged. Next up? Shaving my scalp. The minute they started to shave my head, the tears slowly formed at the corner of my eyes. I willed myself to stop because I knew if my blood pressure went up, it would create more pressure in the area where the procedure was about to take place. I successfully stopped (after a nice little pep talk with myself.) But then came round two of the procedure.

My face was covered. More hair needed to be shaved. Darnit. I tried and tried but couldn’t stop the tears. It was a much bigger area than expected.

When they were done, the cloth was removed from my face and the nurse, again so loving and gentle, and without judgement, said, “Oh, I see a tear.” Before I could ask, she had a tissue in hand and was dabbing my tears away. No, “are you okay?” or even a toxic positive pep talk. She instantly acted, let me feel, and didn’t make me talk or explain. She saw me. She was with me. She let me be me. Such an incredible gift.

Truth is that I was embarrassed for crying. I have had four of these procedures, one even on my eyelid, and I’ve never cried.

But this? This just hits different. I was so appreciative of her in that moment. The entire team knew the size of skin removed was larger than planned. The doctor knows me by now since we see each other every 6 months or so for a MOHs procedure. I’m so grateful for him and his team. Such incredibly kind, loving people. My plastic surgeon and his team were also reassuring. He did a great job. Kept me out of the operating room (which both he and my other surgeon didn’t know if it was possible) and was able to hide most of the scar in the hair.

I will still look different. But it is so much better than other outcomes. And now to go look for the most awesome daily beach hat to wear so I don’t need to keep repeating this little pattern. Oddly enough, I love, love, love hats but don’t like how I look in them.

But then again, that’s how I felt about sunglasses and now I found a pair I like. Who knows, maybe I’ll find one that can be embroidered with a cute ‘lil Orange Rhino?! Hoping you all are having a good week so far, and thanking you for your loving messages yesterday. (I’m still catching up. Did lots of sleeping yesterday and today.)

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Feb
10
2026

Why a Longer Morning Routine Actually Helps My ADHD Brain

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I have an unconventional opinion to share. The last time I shared something similar I got destroyed. I was so misunderstood. I strongly dislike being misunderstood. It just reflects my entire childhood as a neurodivergent, sensory processing struggle, emotional kiddo.

So all that to say, I really hope this makes sense;) If it does, I think you will greatly appreciate it. I know I felt like a lightbulb went off when I realized it! For whatever reason, I decided to make my morning routine longer. No idea what moved me but alas, I now wash my face first thing in the morning. I can proudly say it is now officially a habit.

This is big for me. This isn’t a “skincare is self-care” post, fear not. It’s deeper than that — kinda like the massive pimple growing dead center on my chin right now. It’s about setting myself up to feel better in my day. More at ease. More capable. Less braced for impact. I wasn’t raised doing face care routines (or even makeup for that matter.) I’m learning a lot as I grow up;) Before? Maybe I washed it in the shower every couple of days, but only because I had the best cleanser ever thanks to my best friend who works in face care.

The product has microbeads in it or whatever and just feels good to use. #skinceuticals But I never made it a habit. Something changed though when 2026 rolled in. I decided it needed to be a habit.

Maybe because pimples have decided to appear again and one of you lovely readers told me to make sure I washed my face morning and night. I wasn’t. Thank you!

Maybe because I’m making a conscious effort to actually get dressed in a non-workout outfit, do my hair and put some makeup on everyday and so I now have makeup to wash off. (Love this action by the way. totally makes me more alert, more productive, and more confident. It just does wonders for my mood and energy. 10/10 recommend.)

Maybe it’s because I have skin cancer on my face and I have to make sure I am putting on my daily moisturizer with sun protection.

Whatever the reason, I am now a girl who washes her face morning and night, adds her moisturizes and whatnot and I LOVE IT. I have a face care routine for the first time ever. Yes, I am 48. I love it not for the reasons one might think.

Yes it is nice to have skin that feels and looks better. Yes it is nice to not add to the bags under my eyes with smeared mascara. Yes it is nice to know I am doing a better job warding off skin cancer.

But more so? It is so nice to slow down for a couple of minutes twice a day. I love the feeling of the warm washcloth. I just hold it on my face like they do during facials. I just relax for a few minutes. It is only a few minutes but it is a few minutes more than I used to.

So often I complain about not having enough down time. Quiet time. Time to myself. I realized that having a skin care routine is giving me that. Would l love to have more and longer chunks of time to myself? Of course. I am not saying I don’t deserve that. I do. You do. We all do.

What I realized though is that there are so many opportunities throughout the day to really soak up the micro-micro-breaks that already exist. They are better than nothing and when enjoyed, they expand. And when they expand, the rest of the day feels better. The minutes add up and add to the longer chunks. They do count. I just have to be present and willing to see their restorative upside.

Driving in the car as a chauffeur. Easy to complain…or to enjoy the few minutes of my own music while I dance in the car.

Washing the dishes. Easy to complain…or to enjoy the smell of the soap.

Folding the laundry. Easy to complain…or to enjoy the solitude or the feeling of getting something done.

Not drinking alcohol. Easy to complain…or to enjoy that I am still sitting, relaxing, having something that tastes good.

Micro-micro moments to absorb and enjoy and see as more than chores or annoyances. Game changer. Maybe not for those who are naturally present but for me? This is new and simply wonderful. All this to say, I hope this makes sense and maybe makes your go-go-go day without the long break you crave and deserve, a little bit brighter.

Also – got any other micro-micro moments I could enjoy more? Please share! I gotta grow my list.

Sending my warmth to go with your strength, today and always,

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

Feb
08
2026

What The Orange Rhino Is Really About: Love, Honesty and Belonging

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This page has always been about one thing: love. How we give it, how we receive it, and how we learn to offer more of it to ourselves—especially when life feels heavy. As this community has grown, I’ve realized it’s time to be even clearer about who I am, what this space is for, and why it matters to me. From the beginning, this community has been built on supporting one another in a common goal – to yell less. We all wanted to yell less because we wanted to show our love more.

Our love for our children, our love for ourselves. We wanted to yell less because we wanted to love how we experienced life more; to go to bed with less guilt, with less disappointment, with less sadness, with less grief.

When this page grew and grew exponentially it was because of a shared goal that united everyone, regardless of race, religion, identity, you name it.

We were all focused on loving more.
On kindness.
On doing better.
On learning about ourselves, our children.
On teaching ourselves, our children.

We were all supportive of one another. Someone had a bad day, someone else left a comment showing they believed in them. Since I’ve returned to posting, the same common goal of loving more has remained, but with a tweak and some expansion.

The focus is definitely more about loving ourselves more, all parts of who we are (not just as people wanting to yell less) so we can create lives we love even more. In doing so, I write about a lot more than parenting. Parenting is a piece of my life, an important one.

But I am also a partner, a friend, a neighbor, a human. All these parts matter if I want to live a life that I love. I saw The Holderness Family (always so funny) make a post re-introducing themselves recently. And HR Mom (always so inspiring) made a post about who she is first and foremost. Whitney Fleming Writes (always so eloquent) shared a post about what she doesn’t fake outrage about. Dontcrossagayman (always just knows how to deliver and teach a needed message) shared a video about, well, all of the above.

I am inspired to follow these pages’ lead so that people can decide whether this space feels right for them. I feel weird writing that, if I’m going to be honest.

But, if I want to live a life that I love, if I want to go to bed feeling lighter, I need to be the most authentic version of myself. I strongly dislike coming on here and feeling like I am hiding parts of me. First and foremost I’m a mother, but I’m also a protector of this page. I want to ensure everyone here feels the same level of welcome, comfort, safety, connection and joy they felt when they first joined. I want to feel that sense of ease.

I want everyone on this page to come here and feel, “yes, I belong here. I don’t feel broken here. I feel seen. I can breathe.” I want this page to lift people up, to brighten their days so that getting through the inevitable gray of life is easier.

So, let me re-introduce myself, who I am first and foremost, and what I also won’t fake outrage about. Let me tell you a bit more about me.

1. I am an almost 48 year old perimenopausal woman with more wrinkles and skin cancer than I like. I’ve been divorced for 10 years and have been engaged for a lot longer than my fiancé would like because I’m so scarred by the divorce process.

I drink my coffee black because that is how I was introduced to it when I stayed with a family in Nicaragua. I no longer drink alcohol because alcoholism runs in my extended family and because I have health issues. Sparkling grapefruit juice with lime is my new favorite mocktail!

I have ADHD and I struggle with anxiety, depression, OCD, and sensory processing disorder. Some people say I’m a lot. I like to think I understand a lot about what it means to be misunderstood, not accepted and alone. It makes me a more loving person. 

2. Since I was at least 8, I’ve been helping others, spreading kindness, trying to bring people together, ALL people. It. Is. Who. I. Am and how I was raised. It is how I hope to raise my sons. Speaking of which… 

3. I am a mom to four neurodivergent sons. I have always said that I was given four sons for a reason: to ensure that I raise gentlemen who respect women so that I can make a difference in the way women are treated. It might only be 4 boys, but change starts somewhere.

Likewise, I’m making sure they understand how they deserve to be treated. Being a teen is hard. I’m also helping them learn how to safely stand up for those who aren’t treated well.

4. In high school, I made a list of lectures I thought our school should give. Sexual violence was one of them. Ensuring I raise sons who understand consent is a constant conversation. My disgust about the E-files is far from fake outrage.

5. My childhood pastor was lesbian. She was the absolute best. I have friends whose children are gay. I have friends whose children are trans. I have friends who are gay. I support and love them all.

6. Some of my best friends are Jewish. My fiancé is Jewish. My grandfather was Jewish but had to hide that aspect of himself:(I am Christian. I’ve been to Temple often and Church services too. We all want the same thing: to be the best, most loving humans we can be.

7. I traveled to numerous third world countries when I was younger. Those were some of the best experiences of my life. I learned so much from their cultures. I used to be fluent in Spanish. I still speak it when I can. I love connecting with people sharing moments of joy that cross languages. I love and appreciate other cultures.

8. I strongly dislike politics. I’ve always avoided talking about them because of the intensity. I value peace and connection. I believe in working together to find common ground and achieve common goals—and I believe both always exist, just not always easy to find or achieve. But I don’t give up. This was my strength as a leader when I worked.

I have friends who are Democrats and friends who are Republicans. I love and support them all. I believe listening doesn’t have to mean agreeing, and disagreement doesn’t have to mean disrespect. I listen to understand, because you can’t solve problems you don’t understand—and we can only grow if we’re willing to learn from one another.

9. In my darkest of times, let me tell you who helped me.
Democrats. Republicans.
People with white skin, black skin, brown skin.
Christian friends and non-Christian friends.
Straight strangers and non-straight strangers and friends.
People born in the United States, people not born here.
Neurotypical people and neurodiverse people.
I appreciate all of them, all. of. Them.

I would do the same, for all of them.

We are all humans trying to live lives full of love. It pains me deeply that not all humans are treated the same; that my friends, neighbors and those I respect are hurting.

10. I believe in treating others as I want to be treated. With respect. With kindness. With understanding. With grace. I look for the best in people. I celebrate people. I feel for people — I am an empath, through and through. These times hurt.

Oh, and I guess one more.

11. I am The Orange Rhino® created because I wanted more warmth, positive energy and determination in my life, especially when I felt like I wanted to charge or felt like I was getting knocked down. I’m dedicated to creating a space that brings people together while lifting them up, a space that cares for all people.

This is the heart behind The Orange Rhino®—real, human, rooted in love and kindness.

 Sending my warmth to everyone, today and always. Period.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡The Orange Rhino

(This was an unplanned, just written post. Be gentle if there are errors and please message me privately if I wrote something wrong; not my intention. I’m still learning. If I don’t post, I won’t, but I want to. That’s #12 I guess. I am a sensitive, learning to not worry what other people think so much, always trying to make progress and not be perfect, human.)

Feb
07
2026

What Teenage Boys Taught Me About Competition, Connection and Hope

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Earlier this week, my son’s basketball team had a big win. But it had nothing to do with the score. It had everything to do with what happened after. They were playing a team from across town. The last time they faced each other, the game was tight—my son’s team won by just a few points. And at the end of that game, something unexpected happened. The teams came together. Laughing. Taking selfies. Teenage boys—competing hard, not knowing each other—connecting anyway.

It gave me so much hope. Fast forward to this week. This game was a blowout. My son’s team was on fire. So the coach did what good coaches do—he put in the kids who don’t usually get playing time. Eventually, the other coach did too.

And that alone said a lot. This coach is intense. I remember thinking during the first matchup, whoa—this guy wants to win at all costs.

But here we were. New kids on the court. Winning wasn’t the goal anymore. Experience was. My son is almost 6’2. One of his best friends is about 5’2—and because of that, he hasn’t gotten much playing time this season.

But this night? He was in. The players on the court worked to get him the ball. The players on the bench were on their feet, cheering—hoping he’d score his first basket of a quickly ending season. And let me tell you—this kid can shoot. Always has been able to. He started hitting shots. Then threes. Then foul shots. Thirteen points in two minutes. For real. The gym went absolutely insane.

When the buzzer sounded, his teammates rushed him and carried him off the court. And do you know who else rushed over? The other coach. And players from the other team. The coach even took a selfie with him. It. Was. Beautiful. And this wasn’t a one-off. Earlier in the week, my son’s team lost a blowout. Late in the game, another kid who rarely plays took a shot just as the buzzer sounded. SWOOSH. A three.

They lost the game—but no one cared. Their teammate had scored and made an incredible shot. No one talked about the loss, they talked about their teammate. And in yet another blowout loss, both coaches put the B teams in again. The A teams were on the benches, kinda. They weren’t obsessed with the score. They weren’t sulking on the bench. I saw teenage boys standing, cheering, screaming—for each other to have their moment.

My faith in humanity was restored a little this week. On a high school basketball court. And I’m holding onto these moments tighter than ever, especially this week.

Sending my warmth to go with your strength, today and always.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino