|
Blog:
|
|
Summary Jackie Morreale shares her journey of celebrating success, facing failure, and the lessons learned about preparation, resilience, and community. This episode emphasizes that failure is a stepping stone to growth and the importance of lifting others as we climb. Topics:
Takeaways:
Quotes:
Chapters: 00:00 The Day After My Biggest Success, I Failed 00:20 Thank You, Wisdom for Wannabes Community 01:09 YouTube Silver Creator Award Celebration 01:54 I Failed a $200 Fitness Certification Exam 02:20 Shout Out: School of Rock 02:32 Shout Out: Lucie Pierro & Breathe Music Vocal Collective 03:12 Preparation Isn't Punishment—It's Protection 04:32 Wisdom from Pilot Johannes Schwab: Confidence Through Discipline 05:09 Respect the Process 05:31 Imagination Exercise: Picture Your Finish Line 07:30 My Son's Lesson at the Finish Line 08:16 Wisdom from Educator Dr. Roy McGriff: "Lift as You Climb" 09:02 Final Thoughts & Thank You
Failure is a Teacher! Finish Your Race, & Lift As You ClimbBy Jackie Morreale The day after I celebrated one of the biggest accomplishments of my career, I failed. But not in the way you would think. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. First, I failed to say thank you. Thank you to every person who has watched an interview, listened to an episode, subscribed to the channel, left a thoughtful comment. Last Sunday, my family and closest friends gathered to celebrate the arrival and opening of the YouTube Silver Creator Award for Wisdom for this channel. Woohoo! This award represents one year of my life fully devoted to interviewing remarkable people. Taking a leap of faith that the wisdom shared through those interviews would somehow reach the people who need it most. Every conversation teaches me something new, and those thousands of quiet hours have become this very public milestone. The award may have the Wisdom for Wannabes name on it, but it belongs to every guest who trusted me with their story, and every person who believed those stories were worth watching. Before I tell you about my second failure, thank you, thank you. Thank you for building this community with me. Thank you for being here. Then, on Monday, I failed a test. I sat for a group fitness certification exam, and I failed, with flying colors. The exam cost about $200, but the real cost was my pride. The truth is I convinced myself that I didn't need to study. Twenty years ago, I was a certified personal trainer, group fitness instructor, spinning instructor, Zumba instructor, Pilates instructor, yoga instructor, you name it. I assumed that all that experience would carry me through this exam. It didn't. I learned that experience might be valuable, but preparation is indispensable. For a few days, I was disappointed in myself. My daughter even reminded me that I wasn't acting myself after I got the results. She was right. Failure has a way of shaking our confidence before it strengthens our character. A week later, though, I realized something inspiring: I learned far more by failing than I ever would have by passing. If I had passed without studying, I would have walked away believing that preparation wasn't necessary. Instead, failure reminded me that every worthwhile goal deserves our full attention. It humbled me. (continued below)
Ironically, another experience from this year taught me the exact opposite lesson. I auditioned for something that genuinely scared me: a singing group. Unlike the fitness exam, I prepared. I signed up for lessons at a local school called School of Rock. Shout out to all my teachers at the School of Rock. You rock! I joined a group Breathe Music Vocal Collective. Shout out to Lucie Pierro and all the folks in the Breathe Music Vocal Collective. I practiced scales, lip trills, breathing exercises, harmonies, and vocal technique. I surrounded myself with singers who were more experienced and better than I was and am. I became a beginner again, open to anyone and everyone's skills. I gained wisdom and practiced skills that I hadn't used in years. And the audition went well. (Yay!) The difference wasn't talent; the difference was preparation. A few days later, on the 4th of July, my family and I decided to celebrate by running a 5K before watching the fireworks. My nine-year-old son has always been the strongest runner in the family, but this race was different. He hadn't been training consistently, the weather was brutally hot, and in hindsight, eating a hot dog before a 5K race probably isn't the best decision. Around mile two, he started hurting. He wanted the race to be over. I slowed down, and I held his hand. Reminded him that he'd already done the hardest part; that we were closer to the finish line than we were to the start. I told him to picture the finish line, to imagine all the spectators cheering for him, and to remember how lucky he was that his body could carry him forward. How lucky we all are, in fact. Little by little, his stride came back. He found another gear. He crossed the finish line one second ahead of me, very happily. Watching him struggle, though, reminded me that preparation isn't punishment; it's protection.
Preparation doesn't eliminate challenges; it gives us the strength to meet them. One of my podcast guests and very good friends, Johannes Schwab, a pilot from Austria, shared something I will never forget in his interview. He studied so thoroughly for his aviation exams that by the time the test day arrived, he wasn't worried about failing. He had prepared beyond what was required. The 5 Ps – prior preparation prevents poor performance. That's confidence that can only be earned through discipline. There's an old saying that what people see in public is simply a reflection of what happened in private.
Those invisible moments are where success is actually built. Failure reminded me: Respect the process. The next time I walk in to take that exam, I won't assume that my past accomplishments are enough. I will walk in overly prepared. Not because I'm afraid to fail, but because I've learned what preparation really means. It isn't just passing a test; it's about becoming the kind of person who earns the result (continued below) Imagination Exercise: Finish Your Race, Lift as You ClimbA simple imagination exercise. It might help you get to the finish line. Let's close our eyes for a minute. Picture your own finish line. Maybe it's the exam that you've been studying for. Maybe it's an audition. A presentation. A race. A business that you've dreamed of starting. A book that you're writing. Artwork you're creating. Or simply becoming a healthier, happier version of yourself. Now imagine you're in that last mile of a race. Your legs are heavy. Your breathing is louder than the crowd. Your mind whispers, 'You've done enough.' Then another voice answers, 'You've already come this far.' You're no longer standing where you started. Every practice session, every early morning, every page you studied, every mistake, every failure, every time you got back up... they have all brought you here, to this moment. You look ahead, and the finish line is finally in sight. You can hear the announcer calling names. You hear cheering. Now imagine that every person lining the course knows exactly what you've overcome to get here. They know the setbacks no one else saw. They know the mornings that you didn't feel like getting out of bed but did anyway. They know about the failures that taught you. They know the dream that you almost gave up on. They're cheering anyway. Not because you're the fastest, but because you didn't quit. Your stride gets a little lighter. Your shoulders relax. One more moment of courage, then you cross the finish line. Someone reaches out a hand. Maybe it's a volunteer; maybe it's the exact encouragement you needed at exactly the right time. Take a deep breath. Feel the gratitude. Feel the relief. Feel the quiet confidence that comes from doing something hard. Then notice something else. There are still people out on the course. Some are smiling, some are wondering if they're going to make it. Without thinking, you turn around, you go back toward clap, you cheer, you hold out your hand. You tell them exactly what someone else once told you: ‘You've got this. Keep going. I'm here if you need me. I believe in you.’ At that race finish line, that's exactly what I saw my son do. After finishing the race, exhausted, the announcer said, 'Somebody shake that young man's hand.' A woman stepped forward from the crowd; she smiled, congratulated him, and shook his hand. A few minutes later, after he'd caught his breath, he walked back to the finish line. Not to race again, not to celebrate himself. To congratulate other runners as they crossed. He offered high fives, he shook hands, he cheered for people he'd never met. I don't think he realized it, but in that moment, he stopped being someone who needed encouragement and became someone who gave it. Watching him reminded me that maybe the finish line wasn't the destination after all. Maybe it's the place where our next responsibility begins. One of my earliest podcast guests on Wisdom for Wannabes, Dr. Roy McGriff, an educator and sixth-degree black belt, shared a phrase that has stayed with me ever since that conversation: ‘Lift as you climb.’ That's what preparation is for. That's what failure prepares us to do. Not simply to collect another simply to pass another test, but to become the kind of person who reaches back, extends a hand, and reminds someone else that they can do hard things too. So, prepare, study, practice, and fail. Try again and cross your own finish line. Then turn around, someone else is still out there. You didn't need someone to carry you this time, but maybe someone else needs you. 'Lift as you climb.' Have a wonderful day and thank you for showing up for Wisdom for Wannabes. Shout-Outs in this blog article:
0 Comments
One Year Anniversary! How Do You Measure a Year? An Entrepreneur's Guide to Returning to the Trail6/24/2026 Summary In this reflective voice note, Wisdom for Wannabes host Jackie Morreale celebrates the first anniversary of the podcast and YouTube channel by exploring a question inspired by the musical Rent: How do you measure a year? Through a year marked by 100,000 subscribers, six books, three marathons, unforgettable travels, personal growth, and the loss of her 99-year-old grandmother, Jackie reflects on the milestones that can be counted—and the ones that can't. She shares a guided imagination exercise inspired by her favorite morning running trail, inviting listeners to reconnect with a place that grounds them, inspires them, and reminds them who they are. This episode is a meditation on entrepreneurship, resilience, gratitude, and returning to yourself when life feels busy or overwhelming. Topics:
Takeaways
Quotes:
Chapters: 00:00 Introduction and Reflection on One Year of 'Wisdom for Wannabes' 00:41 Measuring Success in Entrepreneurship 01:06 Celebrating Personal Milestones and Achievements 01:49 The Unquantifiable Aspects of Growth 02:39 The Power of Visualization and Memory 03:57 Inner Strength and Resilience 04:52 Final Reflections and Closing Thoughts  Transcript How do you measure a year? An entrepreneur's guide to returning to the trail. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. That still feels a little bit odd to say. One year ago, on June 9th, 2025, I uploaded the first Wisdom for Wannabes video. At that time, I had no idea where this would lead. There was no guarantee that anyone would watch. No annual review. No boss telling me whether or not I was doing a good job. That's one of the strangest parts of entrepreneurship. When you have a traditional job, success is often measured for you. There are salaries, bonuses, performance reviews, promotions. When you're building something on your own, the measurements become much harder to see. And yet, they matter. Recently, as Wisdom for Wannabes celebrated its first anniversary, I found myself thinking about that song from Rent that goes: How do you measure a year? In sunsets? In cups of coffee?
Wisdom for Wannabes year one looked something like this: A hundred thousand YouTube subscribers. How is that even possible? Wherever you are in the world, thank you so much for joining me. I never would have expected this. Six books published. One, two, three, four, five. Most recently, six. Six books published. My life dream of becoming an author and illustrator, fulfilled! Three coloring books published. Two school readings. (My gosh!) Author speaking events.
Thirty-five conversations with remarkable guests on this podcast. One unforgettable trip to Austria, Italy, and Germany, and 'memory lane'. Three marathons completed, so I had to show the hardware. Miami. Publix Fort Lauderdale. Treasure Coast. Hundreds of morning runs. One semester of a PhD program. Two spiritual healing seminars. One fitness certification. Nearly 400 consecutive days of Duolingo... that one started before the year. Singing every Sunday. Getting past the third and sixth grade, again, vicariously.
The older I get, the more I realize the most important things aren't always the easiest to count. How do you quantify creativity? How do you measure resilience? How do you count the mornings when you wanted to quit and went anyway? How do you measure the wisdom of a grandmother who lived 99 years and who was still singing into her final days? Some things don't fit neatly into spreadsheets. Some things live in our memories, some things live in places. For me, one of those places is a morning running trail. Almost every morning I run through the same park, the same lake, the same turns, same sunrise reflections over the water. I've celebrated victories there, I've mourned losses there, I've found story ideas there, I've solved problems there, I've prayed there, I've imagined entire books there. Lately, I've been thinking about something: What happens when we can't be 'there', wherever there is for you? Maybe you're traveling, maybe life gets busy, maybe you're recovering from an injury. Or maybe you're simply in a season of life where your favorite place feels very far away. Can you still return to it? I think you can. Close your eyes for a minute. Two-Minute Imagination Exercise:Imagine your favorite trail, beach, park, mountain path, neighborhood street, or forest road. Picture where you begin. Feel your shoes beneath your feet. Notice the first sounds, the birds, the breeze, distant conversations, the rhythm of your own breathing, and start moving forward. Not quickly, just enough to remember. Notice the landmarks that you've passed a hundred times before. The tree you always look for, the bend in the path, the bench where you've stopped to think. The view that never gets old. Keep moving. Feel your body become lighter with each step. Leave behind the emails, the deadlines, the expectations. Leave behind the opinions of people who don't understand what you're building. Just keep moving. Notice how familiar everything feels. Notice how safe it feels. Notice how much of yourself you've left here over the years. Your victories, your disappointments, your hopes, your ideas, your prayers. Now imagine reaching that final stretch. The place where you know you're almost home. The place where you've crossed the finish line before. The place where you've proven yourself again and again that you can do hard things. Stand there for a moment. Now take it all in. The people you've met, the lessons you've version of yourself who started this journey, the version of yourself standing here today. They're both present. Remember this:
Those places simply helped reveal what's already there, within you. Whenever life gets busy, whenever entrepreneurship feels overwhelming, whenever motivation fades, you can return to the same place in your mind. Because the path is still there. The sunrise is still there. The memories are still there. And the person who started this journey is running beside you. One year, 100,000 subscribers, millions of views, books, miles, conversations, lessons, losses, victories. How do you measure a year? Not just in numbers, but in the places that shaped the person I became while traveling through them. Have a wonderful day, and thanks for being with me this year. Love from Wisdom for Wannabes. Timelapse art videos:
Wisdom for Wannabes host Jackie Morreale explores the essence of authentic creation, emphasizing the importance of honesty, emotion, and releasing the need for approval. Through personal stories and reflective prompts, she guides listeners to reconnect with their inner creative process and embrace vulnerability. Topics: • The difference between performing and creating • Creating from emotion and truth • Letting go of external validation • The process of painting her grandmother as a metaphor for authenticity • The importance of presence and connection in creation Takeaways: • Creating is about making something honest, not perfect. • Releasing the need for approval opens up true creativity. • Creating is a process of internal exploration and emotional expression. • Letting go of control and expectations fosters authenticity. • The act of creation is a form of release and self-discovery. Quotes: • "The goal isn't perfection, it's truth." • "I was trying to paint a feeling." • "Imagine that feeling has a shape or a color." Chapters: 1 - The Question of Value in Creation (00:00) 2 - The Journey of Authentic Creation (00:29) 3 - Painting as a Means of Connection (01:21) 4 - Creating Beyond Approval (03:06) 5 - Imagination Exercise for Art (03:45) 6 - The Freedom to Create (05:08)  Jackie Morreale and her family at the Cornell Art Museum in Delray Beach, Florida, during April 2026, celebrating Jackie's birthday over art and family! Transcript, On Art Creation: What Makes Art 'Good', and Who Decides? Spoken and written by Jackie Morreale 1 - The Question of Value in Creation (00:00) Is what I've created good? In whose eyes? Because that question almost stopped me from creating anything at all. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I am the host of Wisdom for Wannabes, the podcast that seeks wise words in business, beauty and betterment. I've spent years creating and almost immediately questioning it, second guessing it, how it would be received. And the truth is, if you're creating in that lens, you're not creating at all. You're performing. That's the moment I decided to cut the cord. 2 - The Journey of Authentic Creation (00:29) Earlier today I found myself driving through the rain a recording session here in West Palm Beach, my first time recording in a studio outside of my own home. I didn't have a script, I didn't have a plan. I just had this quiet hope that something meaningful would come out of this space if I showed up and let it. Because that's what creating has started to feel like to me. It's not about certainty, not about control. Just willingness. Creating something has nothing to do with impressing anyone. It's just taking something internal and making it visible. An emotion becomes a color. A thought becomes a sentence. A feeling becomes a brushstroke. For me, it always starts with the emotion. Instead of trying to fix it, I try to use it. Because the goal isn't perfection, the goal is truth. 3 - Painting as a Means of Connection (01:21) A few nights ago, that idea became real in a way I didn't expect. It was Easter. I was home alone. After thinking about it all day, I finally sat down to paint my grandmother, who passed away a couple of months ago at the young age of 99 years old. No sketch, no plan, just a blank canvas and a feeling. I didn't want to make her look younger. I wanted to make her look like she lived a wonderful life. Every line on her face meant something. But the most important part was her eyes. Because without the eyes, it's nothing. In the photo I was painting from, she was smiling, but she had just lost her husband of over 70 years. Her expression held everything on her face. Joy, because her family was around her, but also grief, longing. I wasn't painting a face. I was trying to paint a feeling. At first, a few times I painted her eyes, but they weren't right. They felt flat; not her. I caught myself doing something I didn't expect. I started talking to her. 'Grandma, help me get your eyes right.' I kept going, layer by layer. Adjusting the color, trying to find that exact shade, greenish blue, or bluish green, depending on the light of that day. Trying to make them feel alive. At one point, my dog, started barking in the other room. No one else was home. She just kept barking at the same spot. For a second, I stopped... because it felt like something, like a connection. Maybe she was there. Maybe she wasn't. But in that moment, it didn't matter because I wasn't painting anymore. I was with her. Creating something, really creating, doesn't feel clean or controlled. It feels uncertain; perhaps unfinished. It feels like starting without knowing where it's going. Feels like frustration. Then a small breakthrough. For me, it was in getting the eyes. Feels like listening more than actually doing. Like letting something move through you instead of forcing it into place. 4 - Creating Beyond Approval (03:06) More than anything, it requires freedom. Because the second I think about what someone else might think about what I'm creating, I freeze. I hesitate. I hold back. When I let that go, and release it, everything opens up. I'm not creating for approval; I'm creating to feel something. To process to remember something. And that's enough. Maybe creating isn't about making something beautiful. Maybe it's about making something honest. Maybe it's not even about the finished product. Maybe it's about what happens inside of you while you're making it. Because sometimes what you're really creating isn't a painting or a story. You're creating closure, connection, understanding. or a release. Just giving something inside of you a place to exist. 5 - Imagination Exercise for Art (03:45) If you're still here, I want to I invite you to try something with me. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in. Slowly let it go. Imagine you're sitting in front of a blank space, a blank canvas, a blank page, an empty room. There's nothing there yet. No expectations, no pressure, no one watching, just space. Don't try to change it, just notice it. Imagine that feeling has a shape or a color. What does it look like? Is it soft or sharp? Bright or muted? Still or moving? Now gently place that feeling into the space in front of you. Let it take form. There's no right way to do this. You're not creating for anyone else. You're just creating for yourself. Now imagine a cord, a cord that connects you to other people's opinions, expectations, or what you imagine to be judgments. See it clearly, and now gently disconnect it. Let it drift away. You don't need it here. 6 - The Freedom to Create (05:08) Now return to what you're doing. Notice how it feels now. More open, and free. Let your hands move, let your mind wander, let something new begin to form. And when you're ready, slowly come back. I'm still learning what it means to create, but I do know this: The more I let go of what other people think, the more honest my work becomes. Maybe that's the point. You're free. Go have a beautiful day.  Jackie Morreale with her painting of Grandmother Mary, work in progress. Click to view more paintings by Jackie Morreale. What if burnout isn’t a sign to stop… but a sign you’re expanding? In this voice note for Wisdom for Wannabes, host Jackie Morreale shares a raw, honest reflection on building something from the ground up—chasing growth, gaining momentum, and unexpectedly hitting a wall of exhaustion. From the outside, everything looked to be working. But behind the scenes… burnout set in. Joined by her dog Lily (a lovable bichonpoo 🐶), Jackie explores a powerful reframe: 👉 Burnout isn’t failure; it’s a signal that life is growing faster than current systems can support. In this video, she breaks down: • Why burnout often shows up during growth (not just overload) • The 3 signs of “growth burnout” • How to shift from pushing harder → evolving smarter • How to reconnect with gratitude, creativity, and purpose This episode is for anyone building something meaningful, navigating change, or feeling exhausted in a season that’s supposed to feel exciting. And if all else fails… hug your dog. 🐾 Chapters: 00:00 – The part no one tells you about success 00:30 – Behind the scenes of burnout - personal story 01:08 – Burnout as a signal, not failure 01:28 – When your systems can’t support your growth 01:51– The 3 signs of growth burnout 02:37 – **Gratitude Imagination Practice** 03:41 – You’re not failing—you’re expanding 04:05 – Final thoughts (and hug your dog)  Jackie Morreale and her dog, Lily, with Lily-inspired pastel drawings Burnout Isn't the End, It's the Upgrade Written by Jackie Morreale, April 4, 2026 No one tells you this part. No one tells you that the moment your dream starts working… is the moment you start breaking. That the thing you prayed for— the momentum, the opportunities, the growth—can quietly turn into exhaustion. Not because you’re doing something wrong… but because you’re doing something real. I hit that moment recently. From the outside, everything looked like it was coming together. I was building something from scratch. Interviewing incredible people. Creating, connecting, growing. Opportunities were showing up faster than I expected. But behind the scenes? I was tired. Not just 'I need a nap' tired; I mean deep tired. The kind where your body hurts. Your brain won’t focus. And even the things you love… start to feel heavy. And what scared me most was this thought: “Why do I feel this way… when everything is finally working?” That’s when it hit me: We’ve been taught to see ‘burnout’ all wrong. We think burnout means:
But what if burnout isn’t failure? What if burnout is actually a signal? A signal that your life is expanding… faster than your current way of operating can support. Here’s the idea I want to leave you with today: Burnout isn’t the end of your capacity. It’s the moment your old systems can no longer hold your new life. Because when you’re building something -- a business, a creative pursuit, a new identity — you don’t just need more effort. You need evolution. But most of us don’t evolve how we work… we just try to push harder inside the same structure. And that’s where the friction begins. In my experience, burnout in growth phases shows up in three specific ways: 1. You’re succeeding… but resenting the process. The thing you once loved starts to feel like obligation. 2. You’re busy… but not fulfilled. Your calendar is full, but your energy is drained. 3. You’re expanding… but your systems haven’t caught up. You’re still doing everything yourself… in a life that now requires support. That’s not failure. It’s a mismatch. And mismatches don’t get solved with more hustle. They get solved with awareness. So instead of asking: “How do I push through this?” I started asking: “What is this moment asking me to become?” And the answer wasn’t “work harder.” It was… work differently. I want to give you something you can actually take with you. If you’re open to it — just for a moment — take a breath. Let your shoulders drop. Let’s take a mental journey over the bridge, and imagine this: You’re standing at the edge of the ocean. Not a chaotic ocean… but one that’s steady… rhythmic… alive. The tide is flowing in and out. Effortlessly. You’re not controlling it. You’re not forcing it. It just flows. Now imagine… that current is your life. Opportunities flowing in. Energy moving through you. Things shifting… without you gripping so tightly. You don’t have to chase the wave. You’re already in it. And instead of pressure… bring in gratitude. Gratitude that you get to be here. That you get to try. To create. To build something that didn’t exist before you imagined it. Feel that for a moment. This isn’t chaos. It is courage. You are allowed to enjoy the ride. When I started seeing my burnout this way— not as something to escape, but something to listen to— everything shifted. Not overnight. But intentionally. I simplified where I could. I started thinking about support. I stopped measuring success only by output… and started protecting the energy that creates it. Because the truth is— you don’t build something meaningful by running yourself into the ground. You build it by becoming someone who can sustain it. So if you’re in that place right now — or have been — where things are growing… but you’re exhausted… I want you to hear this clearly: You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re at the edge of expansion. And burnout? It’s not telling you to stop. It’s asking you to evolve. To lead differently. To build differently. To live differently. Because the goal was never just to create success. The goal…was to create a life you can actually be present for. And if you learn to listen in this moment — burnout won’t break you. It will build you… into someone who can carry the dream forward. Have a beautiful day! What always makes me feel my best: Drawing my muse, Lily! 🎨 |
 Jackie Morreale (July 2025). Lily the bichonpoo closeup smile. Pastel on paper. |  Jackie Morreale (July 2025). Lily the bichonpoo laying down, relaxing. Pastel on paper. |
 Jackie Morreale (February 2026). Lily the bichonpoo sitting happy. Pastel on paper. |  Jackie Morreale (March 2026). Lily the bichonpoo playing with her toothbrush case (but not brushing). Pastel on paper. |
What if one memory could bring you back to who you really are?
In this deeply personal reflection, Wisdom for Wannabes host, Jackie Morreale, shares what happened when she returned to her elementary school 30 years later—and why it moved her to tears. Inspired by a powerful insight from sports psychologists about our brain’s tendency to hold onto the negative, Jackie explores the importance of intentionally creating joyful, meaningful moments we can revisit throughout our lives. This story is about identity, gratitude, and the people—especially educators—who shape us long before we realize it. Read on for a heartfelt reminder to reconnect with your roots, reclaim your truest self, and say thank you to those who helped you become who you are.
Topics:
• The importance of positive memories for mental health
• Creating intentional joyful moments
• Revisiting childhood to reconnect with your true self
Takeaways:
• Our brains are wired to remember negatively, but we must practice recalling positive memories.
• Revisiting childhood places can reconnect us with our authentic selves.
• Creating meaningful moments intentionally can help us stay grounded and true to ourselves.
Quotes:
• "I realized that little girl is still me."
• "I think I forgot her along the way."
• "We need to create moments on purpose."
Chapters:
00:00 Introduction: A Memory That Brings You Back to Yourself
00:31 The Insight That Sparked It All
01:11 Walking Back Into Where It All Began
03:15 Remembering the Girl I Used to Be
03:41 A Different Lens on the High School Years
04:05 Creating Memories You Can Return To
04:57 A Simple Exercise to Come Back to Yourself
06:00 Say Thank You, Just Because!
In this deeply personal reflection, Wisdom for Wannabes host, Jackie Morreale, shares what happened when she returned to her elementary school 30 years later—and why it moved her to tears. Inspired by a powerful insight from sports psychologists about our brain’s tendency to hold onto the negative, Jackie explores the importance of intentionally creating joyful, meaningful moments we can revisit throughout our lives. This story is about identity, gratitude, and the people—especially educators—who shape us long before we realize it. Read on for a heartfelt reminder to reconnect with your roots, reclaim your truest self, and say thank you to those who helped you become who you are.
Topics:
• The importance of positive memories for mental health
• Creating intentional joyful moments
• Revisiting childhood to reconnect with your true self
Takeaways:
• Our brains are wired to remember negatively, but we must practice recalling positive memories.
• Revisiting childhood places can reconnect us with our authentic selves.
• Creating meaningful moments intentionally can help us stay grounded and true to ourselves.
Quotes:
• "I realized that little girl is still me."
• "I think I forgot her along the way."
• "We need to create moments on purpose."
Chapters:
00:00 Introduction: A Memory That Brings You Back to Yourself
00:31 The Insight That Sparked It All
01:11 Walking Back Into Where It All Began
03:15 Remembering the Girl I Used to Be
03:41 A Different Lens on the High School Years
04:05 Creating Memories You Can Return To
04:57 A Simple Exercise to Come Back to Yourself
06:00 Say Thank You, Just Because!
Jackie Morreale reading Princess Tessa & The New Look to Ms. Meehan's students, March 2026
Transcript:
Jackie Morreale (00:00)
I went back to my elementary school after 30 years and I remembered exactly who I am.
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I wrote this and I'm saying this now because I don't ever want to lose this feeling.
I had one of those experiences that I know I'm going to want to come back to. Not just to remember, but to actually feel again. It made me realize something.
I think every single one of us needs to have a memory like that. One that we can return to at any age. One that brings us back to ourselves.
I was interviewing these two amazing sports psychologists earlier this week and they said something that really stuck with me: "Our brains are wired to think negatively." We're built to remember the bad moment, the embarrassing moment, the failure.
Maybe at one point that kept us alive. It was survival.
But now, it keeps us stuck.
They said, "If we don't intentionally create and hold on to those positive memories, we won't have them to pull from later."
We actually have to practice remembering the good.
It took me a day to realize I had just lived one of those life-changing, happy moments that I will want to recall for the rest of my life.
So here it is:
Last Friday, I went back to my old elementary school. Thirty years later, I walked in with a stack of my books and my family.
From the moment we arrived, something felt different.
We were greeted by the security guard upon entering the building who said, "Hello, so you're the author?"
I paused for a second and thought, "Wow, yes, I am."
There's something so powerful about someone else seeing you as something you've worked so hard to become and identify with yourself.
The principal came right out, welcomed us in, brought us into his office. We were laughing because I realized this had been my first time to the principal's office, an idea that I once dreaded, and this time it was for good.
It felt like a full circle moment.
Then we walk down the hallway to my favorite teacher's classroom. My fifth grade teacher who still teaches there to this day, now teaching kindergarten. And how lucky are these students, this school, this community, how lucky am I to go back and see her and relive this experience?
We get to the door. There's a big sign over the doorway.
It says, "Welcome Mrs. Morreale!"
And it includes my family members' names.
And streamers!
And all the autographs of the kids in the class, as well as the one for my teacher.
We walked right through the streamers and there she was, standing there: My favorite teacher.
She looked and sounded exactly the same, same presence, same person.
I just lost it.
Tears were instant.
The kind of tears that you don't even try to hold back.
The kids are all looking at me and saying, "Why is she crying?"
My teacher just smiled and said, "They're happy tears."
They were.
Because in that moment, everything else disappeared. I was her student again.
I sat down. I read my book to her class. My own kids sat next to me. The students were amazing. They raised their hands to point out rhymes, respond to my questions, and ask brilliant questions of their own. I even had a few belly laugh moments where kids say the darndest things.
I just felt joy. Pure, simple joy.
No pressure, no noise.
Just being exactly who I am.
And it hit me: That little girl, the one who loved writing, the one who loved stories and had felt seen by this teacher 30 years ago... she's still me.
She never left.
But somewhere along the way, I think I forgot her a little bit.
Tried to fit in.
Tried to be what I thought other people wanted me to be.
Even tried to dim parts of myself.
But going back there brought me right back to her.
We said our goodbyes, more happy tears, and a whirlwind of an amazing experience.
We went to revisit another special place, my old high school, to see the best art teacher in the world, the new art wing, the new students' work.
It felt different.
I remember feeling like I didn't quite belong back then. Like I had to change myself or keep up or try to prove something.
Looking at the kids now, they seem lighter than I remember feeling. Somehow more in touch with it all.
And I hope that's the case.
It made me the pressure we feel isn't even real.
It's just the story we're telling ourselves.
And the teachers, they see it all. They see what makes each kid different, what makes them special.
They nurture it, they protect it.
And I surmise that most of the time, they have no idea how much of that actually stays with all of us.
So here's what this experience gave me: We don't just need to remember those moments.
We need to create them. On purpose.
Moments that are so real, so grounded, so full of who we actually are, that we can come back to them later. When life gets loud or stressful or remind ourselves: This is me.
I want to try something.
Probably 20 years ago, I was fortunate enough to teach a group in Brooklyn, New York, not far from these schools, physical fitness. We would always end our practice with a visualization exercise, to end on a really beautiful note.
So here's one for today: Close your eyes.
Just for a moment, imagine you're back at a place that shaped you.
Maybe it's your elementary school.
Maybe it's your first job with a great boss.
Maybe it's your favorite relative's house.
Maybe it's a field or on a stage or in a studio with a paintbrush that dips into your favorite color.
You walk in, people know your name. Not for what you've done, not for what you've achieved, but for who you've always been.
People who believed in you before you even believed in yourself. And they're just happy you're there. And you're so happy to be there with them.
You can feel it in your chest. That warmth, that calmness, that certainty.
That's you! That's your core.
That's what you can come back to; in this place, in this moment, in this visualization, anytime.
For me, it's looking at the paper sign with streamers and 25 signatures that's now hanging on my office wall a thousand miles away from where it was last week.
There's one more thing I realized walking out of that school and it's an actionable item.
We don't say thank you enough to the people who saw something in us early, before the world got loud, before we started questioning ourselves, before we tried so hard to fit in.
To the teachers, Ms. Patricia Meehan, Mr. Keith Gamache, countless others. The ones who stay late, the ones who make things special, who remember our names, our strengths, our quirks.
Who shape lives every single most likely aren't reminded often enough how much it all matters to us.
If you can, reach out, send a message, say "Thank you!" Tell them, "You made a difference in my life." Most likely it'll mean a lot to them and it'll bring you back to yourself as well.
Have a beautiful day.
Jackie Morreale (00:00)
I went back to my elementary school after 30 years and I remembered exactly who I am.
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I wrote this and I'm saying this now because I don't ever want to lose this feeling.
I had one of those experiences that I know I'm going to want to come back to. Not just to remember, but to actually feel again. It made me realize something.
I think every single one of us needs to have a memory like that. One that we can return to at any age. One that brings us back to ourselves.
I was interviewing these two amazing sports psychologists earlier this week and they said something that really stuck with me: "Our brains are wired to think negatively." We're built to remember the bad moment, the embarrassing moment, the failure.
Maybe at one point that kept us alive. It was survival.
But now, it keeps us stuck.
They said, "If we don't intentionally create and hold on to those positive memories, we won't have them to pull from later."
We actually have to practice remembering the good.
It took me a day to realize I had just lived one of those life-changing, happy moments that I will want to recall for the rest of my life.
So here it is:
Last Friday, I went back to my old elementary school. Thirty years later, I walked in with a stack of my books and my family.
From the moment we arrived, something felt different.
We were greeted by the security guard upon entering the building who said, "Hello, so you're the author?"
I paused for a second and thought, "Wow, yes, I am."
There's something so powerful about someone else seeing you as something you've worked so hard to become and identify with yourself.
The principal came right out, welcomed us in, brought us into his office. We were laughing because I realized this had been my first time to the principal's office, an idea that I once dreaded, and this time it was for good.
It felt like a full circle moment.
Then we walk down the hallway to my favorite teacher's classroom. My fifth grade teacher who still teaches there to this day, now teaching kindergarten. And how lucky are these students, this school, this community, how lucky am I to go back and see her and relive this experience?
We get to the door. There's a big sign over the doorway.
It says, "Welcome Mrs. Morreale!"
And it includes my family members' names.
And streamers!
And all the autographs of the kids in the class, as well as the one for my teacher.
We walked right through the streamers and there she was, standing there: My favorite teacher.
She looked and sounded exactly the same, same presence, same person.
I just lost it.
Tears were instant.
The kind of tears that you don't even try to hold back.
The kids are all looking at me and saying, "Why is she crying?"
My teacher just smiled and said, "They're happy tears."
They were.
Because in that moment, everything else disappeared. I was her student again.
I sat down. I read my book to her class. My own kids sat next to me. The students were amazing. They raised their hands to point out rhymes, respond to my questions, and ask brilliant questions of their own. I even had a few belly laugh moments where kids say the darndest things.
I just felt joy. Pure, simple joy.
No pressure, no noise.
Just being exactly who I am.
And it hit me: That little girl, the one who loved writing, the one who loved stories and had felt seen by this teacher 30 years ago... she's still me.
She never left.
But somewhere along the way, I think I forgot her a little bit.
Tried to fit in.
Tried to be what I thought other people wanted me to be.
Even tried to dim parts of myself.
But going back there brought me right back to her.
We said our goodbyes, more happy tears, and a whirlwind of an amazing experience.
We went to revisit another special place, my old high school, to see the best art teacher in the world, the new art wing, the new students' work.
It felt different.
I remember feeling like I didn't quite belong back then. Like I had to change myself or keep up or try to prove something.
Looking at the kids now, they seem lighter than I remember feeling. Somehow more in touch with it all.
And I hope that's the case.
It made me the pressure we feel isn't even real.
It's just the story we're telling ourselves.
And the teachers, they see it all. They see what makes each kid different, what makes them special.
They nurture it, they protect it.
And I surmise that most of the time, they have no idea how much of that actually stays with all of us.
So here's what this experience gave me: We don't just need to remember those moments.
We need to create them. On purpose.
Moments that are so real, so grounded, so full of who we actually are, that we can come back to them later. When life gets loud or stressful or remind ourselves: This is me.
I want to try something.
Probably 20 years ago, I was fortunate enough to teach a group in Brooklyn, New York, not far from these schools, physical fitness. We would always end our practice with a visualization exercise, to end on a really beautiful note.
So here's one for today: Close your eyes.
Just for a moment, imagine you're back at a place that shaped you.
Maybe it's your elementary school.
Maybe it's your first job with a great boss.
Maybe it's your favorite relative's house.
Maybe it's a field or on a stage or in a studio with a paintbrush that dips into your favorite color.
You walk in, people know your name. Not for what you've done, not for what you've achieved, but for who you've always been.
People who believed in you before you even believed in yourself. And they're just happy you're there. And you're so happy to be there with them.
You can feel it in your chest. That warmth, that calmness, that certainty.
That's you! That's your core.
That's what you can come back to; in this place, in this moment, in this visualization, anytime.
For me, it's looking at the paper sign with streamers and 25 signatures that's now hanging on my office wall a thousand miles away from where it was last week.
There's one more thing I realized walking out of that school and it's an actionable item.
We don't say thank you enough to the people who saw something in us early, before the world got loud, before we started questioning ourselves, before we tried so hard to fit in.
To the teachers, Ms. Patricia Meehan, Mr. Keith Gamache, countless others. The ones who stay late, the ones who make things special, who remember our names, our strengths, our quirks.
Who shape lives every single most likely aren't reminded often enough how much it all matters to us.
If you can, reach out, send a message, say "Thank you!" Tell them, "You made a difference in my life." Most likely it'll mean a lot to them and it'll bring you back to yourself as well.
Have a beautiful day.
 Thank you, Ms. Meehan! |  Thank you, Mr. Gamache! (Click for link to podcast interview) |
Wisdom for Wannabes host Jackie Morreale explores the deep connection between body health, self-image, and personal well-being through personal stories and reflections. She emphasizes gratitude, self-acceptance, and the importance of viewing our bodies as vessels of strength and resilience.
Topics:
• Body image and self-perception
• The importance of health and wellness
• Reframing personal flaws as strengths
Quotes:
• "Nothing else matters when your body's in pain."
• "No matter how thin, I always thought I was too big."
• "Disease begins with dis-ease, out of alignment."
Chapters:
00:00 The Journey of Body Image and Health
03:08 The Importance of Movement and Gratitude
Topics:
• Body image and self-perception
• The importance of health and wellness
• Reframing personal flaws as strengths
Quotes:
• "Nothing else matters when your body's in pain."
• "No matter how thin, I always thought I was too big."
• "Disease begins with dis-ease, out of alignment."
Chapters:
00:00 The Journey of Body Image and Health
03:08 The Importance of Movement and Gratitude
Transcript:
What if the thing you hate most about your body... actually proof that it's working?
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes, the podcast that seeks to wise words in business, beauty and betterment. Today, the focus is on betterment, personal wellness through the lens of physical fitness and body image.
This morning, I finished a 5k, probably my slowest time on record. 33 minutes. Somehow that made me smile because 33 always felt lucky to me. I've been seeing it everywhere: 3:33 on the clock, 33 on receipts, little winks from the universe. I figured this was my cue to speak.
Earlier this month, someone I love very much drove himself to the hospital in excruciating pain. That night, he woke up at 3:30am. I woke up not long after. There's almost nothing more helpless than watching someone you love suffer inside of their own body and not being able to fix it.
It turned out to be... a kidney stone.
A tiny black speck of a thing, something that his own body created, probably from too many sugary drinks, too much salt, not enough water, the usual suspects. After fluids, medication and fear and uncertainty, it finally passed.
The kidney stone. It was the reminder that when your body is healthy, your mind gets to wander. You can think about dreams and goals and deadlines and magazine covers, but when your body is in pain, nothing else matters. Health is the only thing.
It's bizarre timing because right now I put myself out there as a candidate for the cover of a fitness magazine. I've even made the top 10 by some miracle. And thank you to everyone out there who's voted.
Still, let's be honest, body image has always been personal for me.
We tend to study what wounds us. I look back at my career in fashion design and I can trace my body confidence through the hemlines. When I felt lean and model-like, I designed things that were tight, sheer, bold, unapologetic. When I didn't feel enough, my designs were longer, darker, more covered.
I went back to school in my late 20s and studied body image as part of a fiber science and apparel design program. My instinct was to research bathing suits because what makes you more aware of your own body than that? But my professors wisely redirected me to jeans, because everyone wears jeans.
The truth is no matter how thin or fit I've ever been, I have always thought I was too big.
There's something broken in that. Not in my body, but in the way of seeing it.
I could run marathons and still only see the jiggle.
I could be at my smallest and still compare myself to five years younger.
I could achieve the goal and still move the finish line.
That's not health, that's distortion.
So lately, I've been trying to reframe what I see.
If I notice a softness under my chin, I remind myself this mouth has given me a voice. It is sung. It has spoken ideas into existence. It has smiled at my children. (Hi guys!)
If I see a stomach that isn't flat, I remember that stomach stretched not once, but twice, to give life.
If I look at my hips and thighs that I once criticized, I remember these legs have crossed marathon finish lines. They carried me through 26.2 miles more than once.
It had me thinking: What if everything that we call a flaw... is actually a metal?
We rarely appreciate our bodies until they scare us, until a kidney stone, until the diagnosis, until something stops working. I've heard it said that disease begins with dis-ease, something out of alignment, in our habits, our emotions, our spirit. When I run consistently, I feel better, not just physically, mentally. The noise quiets, my focus sharpens, and I have more energy, not less.
Movement doesn't deplete me, it multiplies.
We put a lot into our bodies, fast food, sugar, caffeine, stress, expectations. And somehow, our bodies keep showing up for us, breathing, digesting, healing, carrying.
Would I give this loved one a kidney? Without hesitation. But the fact that I even could, that I have a healthy body capable of offering something like an organ, that's not something I take lightly.
I'm grateful for this body.
Not just for having visible abs on a magazine cover, and if that happens, wonderful. I hope that it makes another woman feel more at home in her own skin.
We need more real bodies out there, more mothers, more women who have lived.
But the goal isn't the cover. The goal is longevity, peace, a healthy, vibrant old woman someday.
Modeling for my children that caring for your body isn't vanity, it's future-proofing.
So 14-year-old, 27-year-old, 39-year-old Jackie, stop chasing a smaller version of yourself.
You are not behind. You're not wrong.
You are here.
And this body, this resilient, imperfect machine, is doing its job.
So thank you, body. Thank you for running, even slowly. Thank you for healing. Thank you for carrying babies and dreams and groceries and grief. Thank you for forgiving me when I've criticized you.
We only have the best version of ourselves at this moment. Not compared to 10 years ago, not compared to her or him. Just here and now.
Health is the foundation, gratitude is the shift.
Everything else - the aesthetics, the numbers, the pace - is just a detail.
Final Reminder: You are a beautiful person, exactly as you are, right now, inside and out.
Have a beautiful day.
What if the thing you hate most about your body... actually proof that it's working?
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes, the podcast that seeks to wise words in business, beauty and betterment. Today, the focus is on betterment, personal wellness through the lens of physical fitness and body image.
This morning, I finished a 5k, probably my slowest time on record. 33 minutes. Somehow that made me smile because 33 always felt lucky to me. I've been seeing it everywhere: 3:33 on the clock, 33 on receipts, little winks from the universe. I figured this was my cue to speak.
Earlier this month, someone I love very much drove himself to the hospital in excruciating pain. That night, he woke up at 3:30am. I woke up not long after. There's almost nothing more helpless than watching someone you love suffer inside of their own body and not being able to fix it.
It turned out to be... a kidney stone.
A tiny black speck of a thing, something that his own body created, probably from too many sugary drinks, too much salt, not enough water, the usual suspects. After fluids, medication and fear and uncertainty, it finally passed.
The kidney stone. It was the reminder that when your body is healthy, your mind gets to wander. You can think about dreams and goals and deadlines and magazine covers, but when your body is in pain, nothing else matters. Health is the only thing.
It's bizarre timing because right now I put myself out there as a candidate for the cover of a fitness magazine. I've even made the top 10 by some miracle. And thank you to everyone out there who's voted.
Still, let's be honest, body image has always been personal for me.
We tend to study what wounds us. I look back at my career in fashion design and I can trace my body confidence through the hemlines. When I felt lean and model-like, I designed things that were tight, sheer, bold, unapologetic. When I didn't feel enough, my designs were longer, darker, more covered.
I went back to school in my late 20s and studied body image as part of a fiber science and apparel design program. My instinct was to research bathing suits because what makes you more aware of your own body than that? But my professors wisely redirected me to jeans, because everyone wears jeans.
The truth is no matter how thin or fit I've ever been, I have always thought I was too big.
There's something broken in that. Not in my body, but in the way of seeing it.
I could run marathons and still only see the jiggle.
I could be at my smallest and still compare myself to five years younger.
I could achieve the goal and still move the finish line.
That's not health, that's distortion.
So lately, I've been trying to reframe what I see.
If I notice a softness under my chin, I remind myself this mouth has given me a voice. It is sung. It has spoken ideas into existence. It has smiled at my children. (Hi guys!)
If I see a stomach that isn't flat, I remember that stomach stretched not once, but twice, to give life.
If I look at my hips and thighs that I once criticized, I remember these legs have crossed marathon finish lines. They carried me through 26.2 miles more than once.
It had me thinking: What if everything that we call a flaw... is actually a metal?
We rarely appreciate our bodies until they scare us, until a kidney stone, until the diagnosis, until something stops working. I've heard it said that disease begins with dis-ease, something out of alignment, in our habits, our emotions, our spirit. When I run consistently, I feel better, not just physically, mentally. The noise quiets, my focus sharpens, and I have more energy, not less.
Movement doesn't deplete me, it multiplies.
We put a lot into our bodies, fast food, sugar, caffeine, stress, expectations. And somehow, our bodies keep showing up for us, breathing, digesting, healing, carrying.
Would I give this loved one a kidney? Without hesitation. But the fact that I even could, that I have a healthy body capable of offering something like an organ, that's not something I take lightly.
I'm grateful for this body.
Not just for having visible abs on a magazine cover, and if that happens, wonderful. I hope that it makes another woman feel more at home in her own skin.
We need more real bodies out there, more mothers, more women who have lived.
But the goal isn't the cover. The goal is longevity, peace, a healthy, vibrant old woman someday.
Modeling for my children that caring for your body isn't vanity, it's future-proofing.
So 14-year-old, 27-year-old, 39-year-old Jackie, stop chasing a smaller version of yourself.
You are not behind. You're not wrong.
You are here.
And this body, this resilient, imperfect machine, is doing its job.
So thank you, body. Thank you for running, even slowly. Thank you for healing. Thank you for carrying babies and dreams and groceries and grief. Thank you for forgiving me when I've criticized you.
We only have the best version of ourselves at this moment. Not compared to 10 years ago, not compared to her or him. Just here and now.
Health is the foundation, gratitude is the shift.
Everything else - the aesthetics, the numbers, the pace - is just a detail.
Final Reminder: You are a beautiful person, exactly as you are, right now, inside and out.
Have a beautiful day.
Thank you to HERS Magazine, for the opportunity to compete for Ms. Health & Fitness 2026!
Reclaiming the Word "Wannabe", with Podcast Host Jackie Morreale
In this episode, Jackie Morreale explores the themes of personal growth, identity, and the concept of being a 'wannabe.' She reflects on her journey through podcasting, halfway to her original goal, on a personal day of importance: 20 years of the Ken Pribil Jr. Foundation. She discusses the importance of embracing change, and the value of real conversations in learning and evolving. Jackie redefines the term 'wannabe' as someone who aspires to be more, encouraging listeners to embrace their own journeys of growth and self-discovery.
Takeaways:
• Have you ever felt like you were growing into a new version of yourself?
• What if that gap was actually the most important place to be?
• I'm saying I see potential in myself that hasn't been realized yet.
• The best answers are the unexpected ones.
• I want to be more like you when I grow up.
• Wisdom is everywhere.
• Maybe being a wannabe isn't something to outgrow, but something to return to.
• A wannabe is someone who believes they can be more.
• You're exactly where you're supposed to be.
Quotes:
• "I'm saying I see potential in myself."
• "That's not fake or trying too hard."
• "Wisdom is everywhere."
Chapters:
00:00 Embracing Change and Growth
00:47 Redefining 'Wannabe' and Identity
01:44 The Journey of Learning and Growth
03:06 The Power of Real Conversations
Takeaways:
• Have you ever felt like you were growing into a new version of yourself?
• What if that gap was actually the most important place to be?
• I'm saying I see potential in myself that hasn't been realized yet.
• The best answers are the unexpected ones.
• I want to be more like you when I grow up.
• Wisdom is everywhere.
• Maybe being a wannabe isn't something to outgrow, but something to return to.
• A wannabe is someone who believes they can be more.
• You're exactly where you're supposed to be.
Quotes:
• "I'm saying I see potential in myself."
• "That's not fake or trying too hard."
• "Wisdom is everywhere."
Chapters:
00:00 Embracing Change and Growth
00:47 Redefining 'Wannabe' and Identity
01:44 The Journey of Learning and Growth
03:06 The Power of Real Conversations
"Redefining Wannabe" by Jackie Morreale
Have you ever felt like you were growing into a new version of yourself, but the people around you didn't quite understand it yet? If so, this is for you.
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I'm tuning in today on one of those rare, rare days: A solar eclipse, lunar new year, Ramadan, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Winter Olympics, a 20th anniversary of something very special in my own life, losing a loved one to cancer 20 years ago.
And across cultures, across beliefs, across the world, This moment is all about the same thing. reflection, renewal, and becoming.
And it got me thinking about one word that I don't think we fully understand. A word that's very important to us here at Wisdom for Wannabes.
That word is "wannabe".
Now, if you grew up in the '90s like me, you remember how we used this word.
"He's such a wannabe, she's such a wannabe." They just try too hard.
Someone stepping into an identity that other people didn't think that they had earned yet. People putting another person into a small box when they were way more than that.
That's what we were really doing: Judging the "gap"; the difference between the box that they had been placed in by other people and that they were aspiring to be.
And we made that gap something to be embarrassed about.
But now that we've evolved, what if that gap was actually the most important place to be?
What if that space between who you are right at this moment in time and who you're becoming is where all the growth lives?
Because when I say "I wanna be...", I'm saying I'm not done yet.
I'm saying I see potential in myself that hasn't been realized yet.
I'm saying I'm willing to stretch, evolve and be uncomfortable to become something more.
And that's not fake or trying too hard. That's courage.
That's exactly where the name, Wisdom for Wannabes, came from. That's what's really meaningful to me right now.
I'm about halfway through my original goal for this podcast, almost 26 interviews out of 52. Halfway! And I've learned more than I had ever expected I would by this point.
When I first started this podcast, I had an idea of what I thought it would be. Now, being right there in the middle of it, I realized it's not just about the conversations. It's about what those conversations do to they shift you, how they humble you, how they make you realize that there is just so much more to learn.
For me, that growth shows up in three core areas:
1. Business, building something meaningful.
2. Art (aka Beauty), expressing and creating.
3. Wellness (aka Betterment), taking care of body, mind and spirit.
These are the areas where I feel that gap the most.
And instead of hiding from it, I'm choosing to step into it.
Through this podcast, I've had the opportunity to talk to people that I truly admire. The best moments, they're never the planned ones. They're the unexpected answers, the honest stories, the moments that completely shift your perspective. That is the power of real conversation.
And in those moments, I find myself saying something simple:
"I want to be more like you when I grow up."
I've realized that that's not insecurity. It means I'm open. It means I'm learning. And that means I'm still growing.
Because wisdom is everywhere.
You can learn from someone who's built success.
You can learn from someone who's overcome struggle.
You can learn from someone who simply shows up consistently.
You can even learn from kids, probably most from kids. They trust themselves. They follow what they love.
And somewhere along the way, some of us lose that. (And if you identify with that, drop a thumbs up in the comments.)
So maybe being A "wannabe" isn't something to outgrow. Maybe it's something to return to.
A mindset where you stay curious, where you stay open, and where you stay willing to evolve.
So today, I'm reclaiming the word "wannabe". A wannabe is not someone who doesn't belong. A wannabe is someone who believes that they can be something more.
So yeah, I'm a wannabe.
If you're on that journey too, you're exactly where you're supposed to be.
This is Wisdom for Wannabes. And we're just getting started.
Thank you so much for being here. Have a beautiful day.
Have you ever felt like you were growing into a new version of yourself, but the people around you didn't quite understand it yet? If so, this is for you.
My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I'm tuning in today on one of those rare, rare days: A solar eclipse, lunar new year, Ramadan, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Winter Olympics, a 20th anniversary of something very special in my own life, losing a loved one to cancer 20 years ago.
And across cultures, across beliefs, across the world, This moment is all about the same thing. reflection, renewal, and becoming.
And it got me thinking about one word that I don't think we fully understand. A word that's very important to us here at Wisdom for Wannabes.
That word is "wannabe".
Now, if you grew up in the '90s like me, you remember how we used this word.
"He's such a wannabe, she's such a wannabe." They just try too hard.
Someone stepping into an identity that other people didn't think that they had earned yet. People putting another person into a small box when they were way more than that.
That's what we were really doing: Judging the "gap"; the difference between the box that they had been placed in by other people and that they were aspiring to be.
And we made that gap something to be embarrassed about.
But now that we've evolved, what if that gap was actually the most important place to be?
What if that space between who you are right at this moment in time and who you're becoming is where all the growth lives?
Because when I say "I wanna be...", I'm saying I'm not done yet.
I'm saying I see potential in myself that hasn't been realized yet.
I'm saying I'm willing to stretch, evolve and be uncomfortable to become something more.
And that's not fake or trying too hard. That's courage.
That's exactly where the name, Wisdom for Wannabes, came from. That's what's really meaningful to me right now.
I'm about halfway through my original goal for this podcast, almost 26 interviews out of 52. Halfway! And I've learned more than I had ever expected I would by this point.
When I first started this podcast, I had an idea of what I thought it would be. Now, being right there in the middle of it, I realized it's not just about the conversations. It's about what those conversations do to they shift you, how they humble you, how they make you realize that there is just so much more to learn.
For me, that growth shows up in three core areas:
1. Business, building something meaningful.
2. Art (aka Beauty), expressing and creating.
3. Wellness (aka Betterment), taking care of body, mind and spirit.
These are the areas where I feel that gap the most.
And instead of hiding from it, I'm choosing to step into it.
Through this podcast, I've had the opportunity to talk to people that I truly admire. The best moments, they're never the planned ones. They're the unexpected answers, the honest stories, the moments that completely shift your perspective. That is the power of real conversation.
And in those moments, I find myself saying something simple:
"I want to be more like you when I grow up."
I've realized that that's not insecurity. It means I'm open. It means I'm learning. And that means I'm still growing.
Because wisdom is everywhere.
You can learn from someone who's built success.
You can learn from someone who's overcome struggle.
You can learn from someone who simply shows up consistently.
You can even learn from kids, probably most from kids. They trust themselves. They follow what they love.
And somewhere along the way, some of us lose that. (And if you identify with that, drop a thumbs up in the comments.)
So maybe being A "wannabe" isn't something to outgrow. Maybe it's something to return to.
A mindset where you stay curious, where you stay open, and where you stay willing to evolve.
So today, I'm reclaiming the word "wannabe". A wannabe is not someone who doesn't belong. A wannabe is someone who believes that they can be something more.
So yeah, I'm a wannabe.
If you're on that journey too, you're exactly where you're supposed to be.
This is Wisdom for Wannabes. And we're just getting started.
Thank you so much for being here. Have a beautiful day.
 |  |
| In this voice note for the Wisdom for Wannabes blog, Jackie Morreale reflects on a significant gift she received during Christmas 2025 — a silk painting she had created two decades prior, which her grandmother had carefully kept, and her mother had thought to have framed. This piece serves as a time capsule, reminding her of her artistic roots and the journey she has taken as a designer, mother, and entrepreneur. Jackie discusses the importance of family support, the evolution of her artistic vision, and the wisdom gained through experience. She encourages listeners to reconnect with their own forgotten selves and embrace new beginnings as they look ahead to 2026. Takeaways:
|  |
 |  |
Transcript:
Hi there. My name is Jackie Morreale and I am the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I am joined today by a firebird artwork that found me again.
This Christmas 2025 has already come and gone. Like every year, it carried with it a familiar warmth of giving and togetherness and reflection.
But this year, I received something completely unexpected, a gift that didn't just make me smile, it allowed me to revisit the past. Not in that nostalgic, "wasn't that so nice" kind of a way, but as a living time capsule.
A message from the person that I was 20 years ago, arriving precisely when the person I am today needed it most.
My mother brought me a framed painted silk piece that I created two decades ago. Back when I was a young designer in New York City, fresh out of school, painting silk in my parents' basement. Back when all I wanted to do, literally all I wanted to do, was paint whichever visions lived in my head.
Selling to stores came later, business plans came later, expectations came later.
At the beginning, all there was was silk, dye, movement, and instinct.
I learned a silk painting technique in school and it felt magical. Applying it to these scarves made for wearable artwork that someone could actually live inside. But seeing this piece now, 20 years later, framed, hanging on the wall, I'm reminded that it was always more than just fashion. The watercolor blending, the motion, the way the colors breathed life into each other. It was just meant to live.
The piece had originally been purchased by my grandmother, who's now 99 years old. (Hi, Grandma!) My mother found this silk painting in her possession, a firebird that I had created all those years ago, and she decided to frame it.
The image is striking.
It's a firebird with three red feathers emerging from its slender head. It has long, powerful wings layered in warm red hues and glowing tones. A dramatic curling tail feather rising from the flames beneath it. Behind it is a sky washed in cool rainbow-like hues.
Twenty years ago, it may have just been something "pretty," but today it feels prophetic.
Because here I am after two decades of trying to figure out who I am as a businesswoman.
A designer, a mother.
A human standing in a moment of pause, a moment of surrender, a moment of following life's current instead of treading against it. Back to being an artist, into new waters as an entrepreneur, a writer, and someone who thinks outside of the box, just like that young woman painting silk in the basement.
Back then, we didn't document everything. We didn't have iPhones. We didn't have endless photo libraries. Files were saved on CDs. Computers came and went. And every single silk scarf that I made during that time was either sold or given away at flea markets, house sales, small boutiques, trunk shows, even department stores.
I didn't keep one.
So to have this firebird returned to me, something that I made with my hands, with my imagination, and with my whole a year of enormous change, healing, and transformation, it feels intentional.
It feels like timing.
I'm grateful for my mother who has always had an eye for art, always supported my creativity, and for thinking to bring this piece back to me now. (Hi, Mom!) She's the best at giving a subtle nudge, a window opening, and a reminder that maybe this artist path is not behind me but ahead.
I look at this firebird now...and I see myself.
Not just emerging from the ashes, but remembering who I've always been.
I was pretty scrappy back then, literally "material"-istic. Every dollar I had went into fabric, trim, samples, creation. I showed collections in New York City. I pitched lines to department stores. I sold pieces to buyers out of a room that I rented off of Fifth Avenue, more like closet, but it was a room.
All made by hand, with my family.
And when I committed to fulfilling an order, I fulfilled it no matter what. That same determination lives in me now, in my books, these three that 2025 has brought me, and more to come. In my deadlines, my promises to myself.
The difference has been wisdom.
I'm the same person but now with experience, perspective, motherhood, and a deeper understanding of putting others first.
My mother and I don't always see eye to eye. But she shows up and she always has. She understands the artist in me and has always supported that part of who I am.
I don't exactly know why I'm being led down this path right now. I just know that I am.
Maybe that's why I painted the firebird 20 years ago too. For this moment, now, for this remembering: who I was, who I am, and who I'm becoming.
No matter what, I'll always emerge from the ashes.
Looking ahead to 2026:
Reflecting on a wonderful 2025, and wishing you the best year yet for 2026.
Become new by remembering who you are.
Hi there. My name is Jackie Morreale and I am the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. I am joined today by a firebird artwork that found me again.
This Christmas 2025 has already come and gone. Like every year, it carried with it a familiar warmth of giving and togetherness and reflection.
But this year, I received something completely unexpected, a gift that didn't just make me smile, it allowed me to revisit the past. Not in that nostalgic, "wasn't that so nice" kind of a way, but as a living time capsule.
A message from the person that I was 20 years ago, arriving precisely when the person I am today needed it most.
My mother brought me a framed painted silk piece that I created two decades ago. Back when I was a young designer in New York City, fresh out of school, painting silk in my parents' basement. Back when all I wanted to do, literally all I wanted to do, was paint whichever visions lived in my head.
Selling to stores came later, business plans came later, expectations came later.
At the beginning, all there was was silk, dye, movement, and instinct.
I learned a silk painting technique in school and it felt magical. Applying it to these scarves made for wearable artwork that someone could actually live inside. But seeing this piece now, 20 years later, framed, hanging on the wall, I'm reminded that it was always more than just fashion. The watercolor blending, the motion, the way the colors breathed life into each other. It was just meant to live.
The piece had originally been purchased by my grandmother, who's now 99 years old. (Hi, Grandma!) My mother found this silk painting in her possession, a firebird that I had created all those years ago, and she decided to frame it.
The image is striking.
It's a firebird with three red feathers emerging from its slender head. It has long, powerful wings layered in warm red hues and glowing tones. A dramatic curling tail feather rising from the flames beneath it. Behind it is a sky washed in cool rainbow-like hues.
Twenty years ago, it may have just been something "pretty," but today it feels prophetic.
Because here I am after two decades of trying to figure out who I am as a businesswoman.
A designer, a mother.
A human standing in a moment of pause, a moment of surrender, a moment of following life's current instead of treading against it. Back to being an artist, into new waters as an entrepreneur, a writer, and someone who thinks outside of the box, just like that young woman painting silk in the basement.
Back then, we didn't document everything. We didn't have iPhones. We didn't have endless photo libraries. Files were saved on CDs. Computers came and went. And every single silk scarf that I made during that time was either sold or given away at flea markets, house sales, small boutiques, trunk shows, even department stores.
I didn't keep one.
So to have this firebird returned to me, something that I made with my hands, with my imagination, and with my whole a year of enormous change, healing, and transformation, it feels intentional.
It feels like timing.
I'm grateful for my mother who has always had an eye for art, always supported my creativity, and for thinking to bring this piece back to me now. (Hi, Mom!) She's the best at giving a subtle nudge, a window opening, and a reminder that maybe this artist path is not behind me but ahead.
I look at this firebird now...and I see myself.
Not just emerging from the ashes, but remembering who I've always been.
I was pretty scrappy back then, literally "material"-istic. Every dollar I had went into fabric, trim, samples, creation. I showed collections in New York City. I pitched lines to department stores. I sold pieces to buyers out of a room that I rented off of Fifth Avenue, more like closet, but it was a room.
All made by hand, with my family.
And when I committed to fulfilling an order, I fulfilled it no matter what. That same determination lives in me now, in my books, these three that 2025 has brought me, and more to come. In my deadlines, my promises to myself.
The difference has been wisdom.
I'm the same person but now with experience, perspective, motherhood, and a deeper understanding of putting others first.
My mother and I don't always see eye to eye. But she shows up and she always has. She understands the artist in me and has always supported that part of who I am.
I don't exactly know why I'm being led down this path right now. I just know that I am.
Maybe that's why I painted the firebird 20 years ago too. For this moment, now, for this remembering: who I was, who I am, and who I'm becoming.
No matter what, I'll always emerge from the ashes.
Looking ahead to 2026:
- What part of yourself have you forgotten?
- What's waiting to find you again?
- What's your firebird painting?
Reflecting on a wonderful 2025, and wishing you the best year yet for 2026.
Become new by remembering who you are.
Jackie Morreale
Jackie writes from her own experiences and reflections on her journey in seeking wisdom, creativity, spirituality, and life in general. This is "putting thyself out there" at its finest.
Archives
September 2026
August 2026
July 2026
June 2026
April 2026
March 2026
February 2026
January 2026
October 2025
September 2025
August 2025
July 2025
June 2025
May 2025
Categories
All
Art
Beach
Body Image
Books
Bullying
Burnout
Business
Children
Communications
Energy
Entrepreneurship
Failure
Faith
Family
Fashion
Fit
Fitness
Florida
Flow
Friendship
Game Theory
Growth
Healing
Holidays
Landmarks
Legacy
Meditation
Milestone
Nature
Pets
Philosophy
Plein Air
Positivity
Productivity
Reflection
Research
Self Investment
Social Media
Speaking
Sports
Storytelling
Summer
Swimming
Think Big
Travel
Wannabe
Writing
RSS Feed
|
Wisdom for Wannabes
10299 Southern Blvd. Unit 212771 Royal Palm Beach, FL 33411 USA |
© Wisdom for Wannabes LLC 2026. All Rights Reserved.