Different, Not Broken

Potatoes, cat tongues, and sandpaper skin—let’s talk food aversions, texture nightmares, and why maybe it’s totally fine to be a grown adult who can’t stand an apple.
This week on Different, Not Broken, I go fully public with a truth: I am not a picky eater. I am… let’s say, texture specific. I will sample almost anything—once. What happens afterward is between me, my gag reflex, and whatever unholy thing just brushed across my taste buds. Mashed potatoes? Yes. Potatoes in soup? Get them away from me. Tomato sauce? Great! Raw tomato? Why do you hate me? Apple slices? Hard pass. Apple juice? Sign me up. Oranges are a war zone, but orange juice is fine—just keep the strings (and the heartburn) far, far away.
Are these food preferences weird? Yes. Am I objectively a successful adult nonetheless? Also yes. Even if I can’t finish a plate of beans without gagging while my kids, in a spectacular twist of parental fate, will eat literally anything with stoic enthusiasm.
It’s not just about food, though. We blend the personal with the professional this episode. Our guest is the incomparable Dr. Sipra Laddha, CEO of Luna Joy, mental health advocate, and my literal first phone call when I decided to build my practice. We tackle the idea of “competition” in women’s mental health spaces (spoiler: the real competition is the broken system, not each other) and how collaboration—not cutthroat tactics—moves everyone forward.
Thinking of launching your own thing but stuck on knowing whether venture capital and bootstrapping are just buzzwords for other people? We’ve lived both sides. Sipra and I compare paths: raising millions in venture funding (which is about as glamorous as microwaving leftovers, more or less) versus scraping resources together and building from the ground up. Both are exhausting. Both are possible. Both come with landmines only those who have actually been in the room can describe.
Maybe you’ve never considered what it’s like to be the only woman—sometimes the only woman of color—pitching life-or-death solutions to a room full of people who need to check with their wives to know what postpartum depression is. Spoiler: you end up not only knowing you belong in those rooms, but also knowing you’ve got something the rest of the room literally cannot bring.
Still deciding if Different, Not Broken is your kind of podcast? If you’ve ever:
Wondered why your sandwich can’t just be a sandwich—without some slimy tomato sabotaging it
Needed to know how real women founders support each other through texts, resources, and mutual survival tactics instead of passive-aggressive LinkedIn shade
Wanted to hear a vulnerable, unfiltered story about living through postpartum depression from someone who was clinically trained to help others (and still couldn’t get help herself)
Needed a reason to feel absolutely valid in your own “weirdness,” whether that’s food, mood, or business battles
Are looking for a show where softness is strength, and being different is a whole functional life, not a defect

Then hit play. If nothing else, you’ll leave feeling a little less alone in your quirks, and maybe with exactly the push you need to find your own sandbox—and fill it with the right people.
Plus, in Small Talk: a former Marine writes in about random, emotional tears in middle age. Why does softness sneak up on us, and what does it mean to finally drop the armor and just feel? Spoiler: it isn’t weakness.
Listen in. We save room for you—no tomatoes required.
Find out more about Sipra here: https://sipraladdhamd.com/

My kids were supposed to be gone for three days.
Three days turned into eleven. I had the house to myself, figured out who I am without background chaos, and managed to function like an actual adult person.
Then they came home. And then everyone got norovirus.
This week I'm walking through the Mother's Day that was the Mother's Dayest Mother's Day of any Mother's Day ever recorded — and one that was so chaotic, I've only just recovered from it enough to talk about it!
Then Alison joins for Small Talk with a question from Tammy in Montana — a florist who built a real, thriving business from scratch, but whose mom still calls it "a phase."

Keep the appointment.
I know. You feel better. You made the appointment when you were really struggling, and now things aren't so bad and it feels unnecessary. You're fine. Probably. Maybe.
Here's the thing about neurodivergent brains: they're really good at reaching for help in a crisis, and really good at talking themselves out of it the second the crisis passes. A 24-hour improvement is not a support system. It's just the top of the roller coaster.
In this episode, I talk about why you need to keep the appointment even when you feel fine — especially when you feel fine.
PLUS: I tell you about the book my dad never finished that I'm going to finish for him someday. It's about Betsy Ross, who apparently owned a brothel, not a sewing circle. History is a lot.
AND in Small Talk: Alison shares a question from to Marcus in Chicago, who canceled plans, had a perfect solo day (soup, documentary about bridges, no pants), and then felt guilty about every second of it.
TIMESTAMPS
00:00:57 — Dad's Unfinished Book: Betsy Ross's Drawing Room
00:03:07 — The Instruction: Keep the Appointment
00:04:19 — Why We Cancel (When We Finally Start to Feel Better)
00:07:33 — The Roller Coaster: High Points Don't Last
00:08:06 — Build the Support System Before You Need It
00:09:28 — Small Talk: Marcus from Chicago on Canceled Plans and Guilt

Here's the thing about asking for help: the ask itself is the labor. And I learned that the hard way during the two worst weeks of my life.
My youngest came eight weeks early. I'd just had a C-section. We were running back and forth to the NICU, trying to care for a two-year-old at home, healing from surgery, and keeping an entire life running on fumes. People kept asking, "What can we do?" And we kept saying, "We're fine." Not because we were fine. Because figuring out what to ask for was just as much work as doing it ourselves.
And then a woman showed up at my door without warning, without asking, and handed me a gift I'll never forget. And it was the most incredibly simple but caring one imaginable.
This episode is also about what happens when I stop talking — which, if you know me, is significantly more terrifying than anything that comes out of my mouth.
I talk about productive yelling, why silence in our house is a five-alarm situation, and the very Italian way my in-laws communicate.
And in this week's Small Talk, Alison shares a question from Darnell in Atlanta.
Mentioned in this episode:
Join Quirky

"I sold my company. I guess technically we're still in the process, but it's done. The thing I built from scratch. The dream I lay in bed and imagined. Done."
That alone would be a whole episode. But there's more.

In this episode, I'm talking about the 120 days that changed me on a molecular level — because that's not an exaggeration. My mom got sick. The burnout was real. The lights were staying on, but barely. And then a news story hit my phone that I was not prepared for.
It involves an IVF clinic we used eight years ago for our youngest daughter.
I'm not ready to share everything, and there are things I legally can't say. But I want you to know where I've been, mentally, with this whole *gestures arms wildly at everything*.
And I want you to know that sometimes the thing that brings you to your knees has absolutely nothing to do with your business, your calendar, or your capacity — and everything to do with something you didn't see coming.