Lisa Proctor

I no longer accept “that’s just how it’s done” as a good enough reason to keep doing something.

That may be one of the biggest differences between the way I was raised and the way I live now.

I learned very early to pay attention to expectations. To get things right. To need less. To consider how my choices affected everyone around me.

What I didn’t learn nearly as well was to stop and ask:

Does this actually make sense?

I do that now.

I question things.

Not because I need to be contrary. Not because everything I was taught was wrong. And not because I assume I know better than everyone else.

I question things because inherited rules are still inherited rules. Somebody else’s conclusion isn’t automatically mine.

So I look.

I read. I research. I listen to people who know more than I do. I compare what they say. I look at the evidence. I pay attention to my own experience.

Then I decide what I think.

That shows up everywhere in my life now.

It’s why I don’t believe getting older means surrendering your body to decline.

It’s also why I don’t believe every limitation should be bulldozed through with positive thinking. Some limitations are real and need to be respected. Others are negotiations with fear, inertia, discomfort or the hope that motivation will eventually arrive.

I’ve learned to tell the difference.

It’s why, in beauty, I’m much more interested in working with the person in front of me than turning them into somebody else.

Your hair has density, texture, growth patterns and history. Your skin has a history. Your body has a history. So do you.

Start there.

It’s why I’m interested in practical wellness without pretending every personal experience proves a universal truth.

Something can work beautifully for me and still not prove that it will work for you.

My experience is information.

It isn’t a clinical trial.

And maybe most importantly, I’ve stopped believing that changing my mind means I failed to get it right the first time.

Sometimes changing your mind means you learned something.

At 57, I have far fewer answers carved in stone than I once did.

But I ask much better questions.

I think that’s progress.

So what’s something I do completely differently from how I was raised?

I give myself permission to examine the rules before I decide whether they’re mine.