Today I did a puzzle. I bought a puzzle with no regard to my children. No this wasn’t a present/ activity for them. It was for me. Doctor ordered. 

I’ve learned I like to fix things. I like to solve. I’m a “fixer” at least that’s what my new therapist thinks. I want to fix everyone and everything. It’s an addiction and way less fun than alcohol and there is no rehab for it, at least one that I can find. 

The addiction is real.  Big to small, my day fixing the world and everyone else’s problems has become a drug. Think education needs to change? Change it! Told your child has incurable cancer? Cure it! 

But I should be sticking to puzzles. Being a fixer is unforgiving. And I fear I’ve been sucked dry. Turns out fixing is a one way street.  

Before puzzles, I would scratch that fixer itch by taking on humans. Real ones with blood and everything. I took on my nephew that showed up at my home unannounced, penniless, and addicted to drug. Took him on. Only to find myself being extorted days later. A whiplash of pain, sorrow, and just plain fear. After all the love I gave to only have it thrown in my face. 

But I don’t draw the line of the family as I’ve learned most fixers/ women do, although they are all included to fix. 

I’ve taken on strangers’ children. Multiples of them. Yep. I’m on the other end to countless mothers and fathers calling in desperation for my help. I get calls from students at hours during the night. Sure I get the now and then “thank you for changing my life email” and that does make some of those night worth it, but lately the game has changed. This generation expects the world to stop and put them first and see “helpers” as mere servants in their individual journey. The letters come less frequently and instead I find myself speaking with mental health practioners and the police more often. Advoating for children who honestly don’t care if I do or don’t.

But yet I keep going. 

Clear addiction.


Puzzles it is. 

This girl needs a rest. 

Remember…we did this.

Remember that if you believe anything is possible.

Remember that even the darkest days the sun rise.

But I write in the now. This feeling. This moment. I want to remember NOW. So I write to record.

As it is this moment where I can say with PURE confidence that I have made a dent in this world. That I have brought a MOVEMENT in education where parents can demand MORE. Where students can demand MORE. Where we educate for life and the whole person. 

That I BUILT a company in a space where there has been zero disruption in 300 years with billions of dollars and institutions trying to protect their piece of the pie. Not only rooting for your failure, but trying to take down as you threaten their very existence.

I was told it was not possible. Who am I, a female elementary educator, to take on the criminal activity happening in higher education. Told that change can only happen from the top. That while we all recognize that higher education is flawed, the system is too big to change, and why would it when people will pay (take out loans) to be lucky enough to get off a waitlist.

But nope.

They were wrong. Yes WRONG.

And yes cancer moms are INVESTABLE! Remember when I was told that no one would invest in me because not only am I a mother but a mother with a sick child. That you wouldn’t make a strong founder. That I was uninvestable.

But nope. 

All of them WRONG. 

And change (lasting change) happens from the bottom, not the top. It happens from the teachers and the students saying ENOUGH. Stop pushing us into a system that has a 14% success rate that rejects the majority and does not even serve the new realities of the modern economy and world. 


I did it.




I need to acknowledge that I had major moments of weakness. There were days when I didn’t think I could take another hurdle.  Another mountain to climb after so many ranges prior. Another government agency saying we don’t fit into the qualifications of an “education” and to qualify we would need to become the exact criminal activity we are fighting. There were days I said to myself- “How stupid are you Abby. You threw your entire savings and the last 4 years  of your life into something impossible. You are hurting your family. You are traveling, not making an income.”

So Guilty that I wasn’t being the mother I should be.

And all the nights I cried to Steve the same question:  “Why is it so hard to do good?”  I’m just creating a cheaper, more valuable product that puts students health and success first. I’m not in this for the money. I’m in this for my children and yours. Why is doing good so hard? Lots of sleepless nights on that question.

Lots of days ready to throw in the towel. If I didn’t have you…MYX would not exist. 

When I was down, you were there to pick me up. My neighbor coming down and literally slapping me. Don’t give up! Or my co-founder taking the lead when I just wanted to pull the covers over my head in a deep depression resigned that the world had no place for love. That education was no different from the rest of the economy, all about the $$$ with child victims. 

But everytime I was down (without fail) I would get a text from a student. A student sharing that they signed their first apt on their lease (and yes they could read all the legal jargon thanks to MYX). Or one of my favorite texts. “Abby I don’t know how to thank you. You have changed my life. I never felt like I belonged before nor had any talents and here I am walking into the world ready!” Those texts always came right in time.

Coincidence? Heck no. We know there are none of those in life.

This was meant to be. This journey was the only way to get to here.

So a big thank you to the pioneer families who believed in this crazy girl talking to them over tik tok. Thanks for being my village as it takes a village. A village of believers. 

I didn’t cure Jacobs cancer, Nightwing did.

I didn’t bring education to reflect the truths in learning, the realities of this generation, and the future of work they would inherit by myself- heck no. A team of educators, parents and students did that.

At MYX you never walk alone and I don’t either. People believe in me.  People believe in this mission and have even invested in this mission. And I’m going to make those people (including the educators) millionaires. Just watch me:) 

As good deserves to be recognized and those people will pay it forward to make the world better. I know it. 

I have never felt so high and proud. 

Leaving this morning from MYX I can say for the first time with ABSOLUTE certainty that MYX is going to change lives and education in the United States and beyond. 

It can be done. 

It can be done.

PTSD shock GOOD therapy

I need to document the moment I reached the top of the dark side and was able to look back and see the beauty that was there all along, but I lacked the light to see. 

Since June is going nowhere, I’m only left with my own documentation. What worked? Why did the sun rise again? When did June lift?

Annoyingly so…it didn’t happen one magical morning. It took time. Time. Damn it. I’m sorry future Abby…I’m going to say that word, patience. Ugh. Vomit. I’m sorry. The word is so condescending. The soft “c”- the entire thing, but yes that is part of the process. 

And yes, Fuck you patience! What if you just move faster than most? Isn’t the world and others supposed to catch up? Why am I the one to have to change? But…yet patience is required, but not towards others, but towards yourself. No matter which way you parse the data nor the number of interventions I try, 4 weeks at least. You can’t stand on your head to get it to go away. Although, I know you will try!

So number one factor, time and “p” word. 

During the month smoke weed. This one is odd to many and possibly not a good one to recommend for others as anxiety orders are often exacerbated by weed for many. But weed has a unique property, it slows down time. It makes me be more “p” word. After some research, there is real data to support this response. Weed affects our perception of time. It tends to slow down time and that slower speed allowed me to heal. I needed the world and my body to slow down. 

But if I really look at my calendar and my own anecdotes, the best medicine? GOOD HUMANS and ADVENTURE. I call this new discovery “PTSD shocking GOOD therapy.” The only way to battle true depression is a BIG dose of evidence that the world is magical and good. You need to take yourself out of the “known” environment of supreme court decisions, children needing you, and bad people. Instead, go hang with people who fight for others. Listen to the stories of others and travel. Go adventure. A work trip counts—anything out of the ordinary works.

While many good humans (and the month of July) played a role in helping me snap out of this round I have to write about one.  I got “shocked” by dining with a real patriot and former politician who continues to work for this country. Together we talked about the future of our country and our youth. I got to be part of talking about solutions. And sitting next to this legend with over 50 years in politics and seeing that he still fights was inspiring and put a little light in my eyes. He hasn’t given up!

But let me be clear. Hanging out with famous powerful people is not required. I think the biggest PTSD shock therapy I had was with a homeless man. We sat for 2 hours together. He was amazed that he found a white woman smoking a joint on a park bench. We kept laughing when we sat together as he nicknamed me “unicorn” as he never knew people like me existed. He had never sat so close to a white woman before.  And what was the necklace I was wearing? A unicorn. Well that made us laugh and laugh. 

We talked about life, death, family, and faith. I asked him how he keeps the faith. How he walks the streets and sleeps in his car, yet smiles. He looked at me with pity. He looked at me with pity! Just think about that. He then said. “In your eyes I can see a life of incredible privilege, but also real pain.” He reached out to me and said “I wish I could take that pain away, but know that there is a bigger story here. You have to have Faith.” I started to tear up. And he went to hold my hand and we sat there holding hands for a good 2 minutes. And I felt a real moment of relief. I felt connected to humanity. I felt that while not homeless, this man and I share a common life journey.

Next June? Adventure and good humans! Planning ahead

June petition

I have one vote, but I think I have to throw in the towel. 

I  know an uphill battle when I see one. While I’m no hiker, I do know a thing or two about hills and mountains and this is one may be insurmountable. 

But the fact that I started such a petition speaks to the sincerity in my new proactive goal. I need to make sure I don’t do “June” again. And its easy come July to forget June even exists.  It’s so easy to forget the bad.  Nothing but negativity in the rearview mirror so why look back at all?  And for the past two years, I’ve done just that. I’ve RUN into July with vengence.

But I’m not allowing myself to do that this time. I have strategies in the works, even a petition.

What is the petition you ask that I’ve gotten one signature on? To end the month of June of course. I had a clever idea of elongating each month and swallowing June all together. 11 months. It oddly, has some nice implications for school schedules that I think may increase learning outcomes too. Interested? Let me know! You can be signature number two.

The one signature you ask? Steve? Nope. Not even Steve would go along with this plan even with so much to personally gain. He was pretty adamant that our first child’s birthday, which is sadly in June, is important. I, of course, was primed for that concern, ready with a solution. What child would not want to celebrate their birthday earlier? Win win. Steve didn’t buy it.

But I really am throwing in the towel as I’ve just learned that my entire “down with June” campaign is flawed.  Turns out our bodies keep time even without cues from the mind/ observable environment.

What? I know. But its legit.

Studies where people live in dark caves with no sense of seasons nor days, end up sleeping and being awake in cadence with the rise and fall of the sun. Crazy huh? Normally I would say. That is amazing and have some deep thing to say, but nope. This only sucks. Even if I were to pass this petition and June disapeared…this body will know.

Okay…so killing June is not a workable solution. As usual, it’s not that easy. I’ve got work to do.


I played the lottery.


I’m two for two so far. 

Bought two tickets and won on both.

Now I didn’t win millions, but I did turn $2 into $50. And Only proved…that the 1% life has it’s perks. The odds…are my friend and worst enemy. And when you live on the edges you get to see it all. You see the curvature of the earth and you understand that we are connected. And at times that sight justifies the fall.

I’m ready to put this episode behind me ( knock on wood ). I’m feeling much better. Still have some residual pain, but if its not so much that I can’t SHAKE OFF (like literally- shake, I’m serious PTSD women, shake it off! I have a new shake off song. It’s called Shake it Out (I’m not kidding) and its by Florence + The Machine. Its pretty awesome. Chorus- shake! It works. And thanks nightwing who sends back their weird things. I’ve picked up some tricks.

So how did it end?  I need to record what worked. 

Well time unfortuantely does play a role. No magic pill, but it seems that hanging with REMARKABLE HUMANS helps. I needed a dose of people that would remind me that anything is possible. 

I got to have dinner the other night with four remarkable people who reminded me that there are a lot of people out there doing good. 

1% perks

Cognitive reframing. I have not finished my homework. Not out of lack of trying, just really hard to reframe reproduction rights or the systems that continue to oppress.

But I’m not giving up, because when you live a 1% life, you get to do the 1% highs too, but only if you can feel them, which at the moment has not been happening. 

A 1% life means the odds of rare incredible things are also high

I have not won the traditional sense of the lottery, but yet I have won some lotteries of life. And winning the lottery is not out of the realm of possibilites. This has not happened (yet). Wouldn’t put it past me. However, it would require actually playing the lottery. Maybe that is my next step.

(Note: Research lotteries)

But a quick reminder of some of the 1% of things that I can name off the top of my head. Setting a 1 min timer:

  • I have been to 53 countries and often with no itinerary, but just to be there. I have stories worth telling.
  • One story worth telling: When I was 19 years old traveling I gave a child a beachball painted as a globe in a slum in South Africa. This young boys and others sat with me where I showed them for the first time the globe. Watching them in wonder of the larger world and all the ocean is a memory I will never forget. BUT-Only to be back in South Africa when I was 28 to meet the father of this boy (by complete accident!) in his makeshift home of recycled metal with my beachball up there in center of the room as a chandelier. The odds of that?!
  • My husband and son survived aggressive stage 4 rare cancers. They shouldn’t not be here, but yet they are.
  • Children (and now adults) remember me. To this day I have a yearly moment where someone yells “Ms. Brody” or “Ms. Levin” and they can tell me in some way how I impacted their life.
  • I know true friendship and sisterhood. Like real friendship.
  • I live at sea for a good portion of the year. Seriously I do, on a boat. I wake up every morning to the ocean. It’s the best and what a unique life! Steve is the captain. I’m first mate.
  • I have had quite a career and one with impact on people’s lives
  • I also have helped the thinking and systems at large that educate our youth
  • I started and run my own business
  • I am a voice and activist in cancer and mental health. Often speaking for the speechless. AND being really close to curing neuroblastoma.
  • I am a mother of two boys
  • I married superman. Yes. He is real. The movies just got the costume wrong, it’s black, all black.

The 1% can be good can be remarkable. 

(Note: This is NOT cognitive reframing at all. Still homework is overdue. Figuring out how to reframe the other side of the 1% is the challenge. Supreme Court isn’t helping much.)


Hello July. I should welcome you. You ain’t June, but your turning out to be no better. You linger. You remember. You are still not quite there. You wake up every day in misery and panic which will take until afternoon noon to subside. 

You are doing terrible at your homework, cognitive reframing, although you have about 17 open tabs of attempts. Depression turns out to be a hard thing to reframe as its complete purpose is to create a lens through that you see the world. Reframing that lens is not easy, especially when the world is feeling so dark.

This weekend we celebrate America. Usually one of our favorite family holidays, but this year feels a bit strange. You know it’s strange when you put up the American flag and you wonder if people think you are some white nationalist. You wonder if you are scaring people with the flag of your country? That is a new feeling for sure. 

How do you cognitively reframe that?


Morning missies continue

Movement is the best thing in the morning

Breathing app helps

Cognitive reframing is not going well

Cognitive reframing

Cognitive reframing

According to the Dali Lama, this is the secret to joy. This allows his holiness’s ability to see love, laughter, potential, and joy in humanity even as he lives in exile and witnesses such pain to his people and the world at large.

In the Desmond Tutu/Dali Lama documentary I saw it in action as they “comforted” a child.

Setting: Desmond Tutu and his holiness are visiting a school for Tibetan children that had to leave their parents to travel to India for a better life at this refugee camp for Tibetan children. Some children as young as 4 are sent off on dangerous roads trekking for days without their parents who they will most likely never see again. All of these children live in a school where they are taken care of and are surrounded by love from monks and other Buddhists. 

A young girl (11 years old tops) was presenting her story to the Dali Lama and Desmond Tutu. She broke into tears when speaking about leaving her parents and how hard it was. She was unable to speak. The two men sat in silence as the girl wept in front of them. Desmond spoke first and uttered an “I’m sorry” while the girl continued to sob. You could see his compassion and he personal hurt. You could feel it. Empath for sure. She nodded. 

Then the Dali Lama spoke. He did not offer any such condolences. He did not acknowledge her pain at all. Instead, he said how lucky she is to be at the school to receive such an incredible education. How lucky she is.

How lucky she is?


Now that’s some cognitive reframing. 

Definition: Cognitive reframing is a technique used to shift your mindset so you’re able to look at a situation, person, or relationship from a slightly different perspective.

Cognitive reframing does not come easy to this girl. Just watching the young girl cry, made me cry. If I was one of the educators in the room, I would have had that girl in my lap by then rocking her and covering her in “I’m sorrys.” 

But I’m going to practice this technique.


Every good plan needs a motto.

A rally cry if you will.

Here is mine: See something, say something. 

I stole it from the NYTransit Authority, I do not claim to be its author. Just sound advice.

And I wholeheartedly endorse this motto for you too. 

No more this “How is that even possible?!” No more cries of disbelief. No more!

I know hindsight is 2020, but there have been signs people and if we listened or paid attention to history we would know that this is possible. We would know that “knowns” are not “known” and that liberty is not protected for life. It turns out it needs to be fought for daily. 

We all have a serious bystander effect syndrome. 

We see the cracks, but we ignore them. We are too busy packing for our child’s camp or dealing with some drama that is right in front of us and we all assume “someone else is on it I’m sure.” 

And here we are. Going backward in time. Literally going backward. The laughing stock of the developed world. At least we can all understand why we have felt like we are running and getting nowhere. That has been a big thing for me recently. I feel like I’ve been running and running, but I’m exactly back where I started. But that is because the world is moving backward. Things like reproduction rights and the ability to make rational gun policies are spinning in the wrong direction. 

See something, say something may need a remake.


New motto:

See something, say something, DO SOMETHING