Now more than ever, art and content provides solace to so many. That’s why Sinéad spoke with best selling author, Dani Shapiro, from self-quarantine. Dani’s shares how writing helps her process trauma and shape her identity, as well as how her own shocking discovery about her lineage impacted her sense of self.
[00:54] Sinéad Burke: Hello and welcome to As Me with Sinéad. I think, like most of us, I am still at home. You’ll be pleased to know that the plants are thriving. I did have to repot them and it is my first attempt at botanical surgery. I think the best thing that I’ve done this week, or at least one of them, is on Saturday, I read Sally Rooney’s Normal People, from cover to cover. But I read it with the expectation that it would give me some distance from our current reality. And that’s the beauty of fiction. I haven’t read fiction for a while and just reveled in it. There’s going to be a TV adaptation of Sally Rooney’s Normal People coming very soon on Hulu, on BBC and on RTÉ. But actually when I was reading it, I spent most of my time highlighting chunks of passages because I loved the way in which Sally just writes sentences. It is an art in and of itself. But I also got a chance within it to reflect on my own experiences of being a teenager and a young adult, because the whole book is formed around the relationship between two people who have known each other from school to college and now to adult life, and how they imprint upon one another in positive and harmful ways. It did make me realize though, that whilst the characters in Sally’s book at 16,17 were doing drugs and having sex and cool, fun things, that is not what I looked like at 16. So it gave me a real humility, and perhaps I need to start a to-do list of all of the things that I’m going to explore and experience once this pandemic is over. But it was a really incredible distraction and I read it all in one day, and I’m very, very excited for the TV show.
[02:50] Sinéad Burke: On this week’s episode, I’m talking to the best selling author, Dani Shapiro. If you don’t know of her work, she has written multiple fiction books and memoirs, and the two of us got into how art can help us shape identity. That seems particularly relevant in this time. Social distancing can make it hard to connect, to our loved ones especially, but even more so to ourselves. And there’s been so much consumption of art.
[03:15] Dani Shapiro: I would write something that felt so specific to me, so idiosyncratically me, that it felt almost shameful. It felt almost like, well, no one’s gonna understand this. And that would be the exact thing that people would most connect to. And I started realizing that we are more alike than we allow ourselves to know most of the time.
[03:49] Sinéad Burke: What’s on my mind this week is patience, which sounds like an odd thing to say, and possibly it is. But here in Ireland, we’ve had an announcement from our chief medical officer that, in terms of the bell curve of this infection, that in so many ways it has been flattened due to the actions of people. Due to our willingness to stay at home and to distance ourselves from one another. And whilst that is needed and necessary and it gives us hope, it’s not over yet. The flattening of the curve doesn’t mean that we can return to normality, nor should we want to, because in many ways that normality was not good for so many people. But what I’m trying to keep in mind is an understanding that even though things may get easier, we have to take our time with it. I don’t think anybody wants to go back to the isolation that we have put in place right now, particularly people who are older or more vulnerable. So what I’m thinking about is as restrictions become less in different places over the world, how do we become patient with ourselves, with our ambition to achieve and accomplish and be productive? How do we become patient with each other and not expect everybody to be running on the treadmill of life in the way in which they were. Ready for this week’s episode? Let’s go!
[05:16] Sinéad Burke: On this week’s episode of As Me with Sinéad, I am speaking with somebody who the world is completely confident and agreed in the fact that not only are they an incredible writer, but they have this sensational ability to bring people forward, to allow them to share the most vulnerable parts of themselves in a way that doesn’t feel exploitative, but permits this gift for us to see ourselves in everybody else. I won’t lie. I’m a little bit nervous talking to this person because I am a huge admirer of their work, but also just the way they see the world. And sitting in our bunkers, thanks to Covid-19, I am so thrilled that I get to sit across from via Zoom and technology, the extraordinary Dani Shapiro. Dani, thank you so much for coming on and being part of this episode.
[06:13] Dani Shapiro: Sinéad, it so by honor and my pleasure.
[06:16] Sinéad Burke: I guess my first question is how do you describe yourself personally and professionally?
[06:23] Dani Shapiro: You know, the two aren’t that distinct, the personal and the professional. I think to be a writer is to have the heart and soul of a writer, and to, you know, witness the world and oneself as a writer. So I would say professionally, I used to describe myself as a novelist, because I began as a novelist. And at some point I made this turn to memoir, not because I thought it was a particularly good idea, but because it’s where my work was taking me and where my thoughts were taking me. And then I began to describe myself as a memoirist, but I never liked that term. There’s something that felt somehow, I don’t know, kind of baroque and a little pretentious about it. People would say to me when I was younger, they would say, oh, you must have had such an interesting life, or you’re too young to have written your memoirs. And recently I was described in something that was written about me as a “public contemplative.” And I loved that. So I’ve adopted that because when I read it about myself, it was with recognition, where I thought, oh, actually, that is what I do. I take all of my life experiences and the way that I think and things that have happened to me and things that I’ve discovered and I contemplate them in language and sometimes in speech. So that’s how I would describe myself professionally. And then what I think I would add to how I think of myself personally, I’ve always been someone who has tried to make meaning out of whatever life has handed me. That’s something that I was doing well before I even knew that I was doing it. But as the great Dolly Parton says, like, “figure out who you are and then do that on purpose.:
[08:17] Sinéad Burke: That’s incredible. That notion of being somebody who exists within a public space and somebody whose opinions and somebody whose thoughts and writing is not just available to the public, but is also up for debate by the public in a sense. Have you always been really comfortable in that explicit exhibitionism of your work, your writing, your lived experience?
[08:45] Dani Shapiro: I don’t know that I’ve always been comfortable. I mean, it’s an uncomfortable space to live in, that way in which I walk into a room and people think that they know me because they’ve read my work. But what I have always felt comfortable with is that, you know, writing, particularly writing memoir, is actually an act of a lot of control and not exhibitionism. One is choosing — I’m choosing exactly the language. I’m waiting for it. I’m alone in a room looking for just the way to tell that particular story. And I guess, again, to go back to the meaning making, you know, what am I learning about being human from this? And how can I write it in a way that will connect with others? Like what is universal and larger about my experience than my experience? My experience is just that’s what I’ve got to work with. But it’s not because I think it’s so particularly special or interesting. It’s just that’s what I’ve got.
[09:59] Sinéad Burke: As an advocate, I use my lived experience as a case study to explore broader themes. As a disabled woman and as a little person, you and I have very little in common on paper in that one sentence. But actually due to life and the universality of human nature, it is undoubtable that my experiences of being a disabled woman will create some sort of empathy in you, and that being so powerful. One of the parts of that that I sometimes struggle with personally is within those stories, I’m not the only character. Often there are siblings, family, friends, and I find myself being very selective about the stories that I tell, or the perspectives that I share, because whilst I am giving consent to narrating those stories publicly for broader learning, my siblings do not choose this. Have you ever had moments like that and how do you manage them?
[11:00] Dani Shapiro: I have had moments like that from the first time I set pen to paper. And I think that the concern about it is its own form of protection to some degree. I think the danger is when there isn’t concern about it. I don’t want to be glib about it because that’s not the whole answer in — so I think it’s very particular to the different relationships. Like you mentioned your siblings, for me, it’s been mostly my parents, who I’ve written about a great deal, and my husband who I dedicated an entire book to. I mean, I wrote a book about our marriage. And most of all, my son, with a feeling that I’ve always had because I was aware that he was young and he had no choice, that I didn’t want him to some day turn to me and say, “I wish you hadn’t written that.” So that’s been my barometer in that particular relationship. But it’s true that to write about our experience, we have to include in our experience those with whom we share our lives.
[12:10] Sinéad Burke: And it’s a challenge. That barometer is constantly fluctuating. I kind of see it as a pendulum. And I remember very vividly my brother’s 21st birthday. And he was blowing out the candles on his cake, and I was taking a photograph of it. And he turns to me and he said, “don’t post that photograph on Instagram.” And I was like, OK, sure, no problem. And I was scrolling through my feed later that evening, and I saw that my sister had posted that photograph. And I said to him like, “hey, this seems unfair.” And at the time, he said, you know, she doesn’t have 15,000 strangers looking at her photo. And I feel awful to say that that was a really big lesson for me, but it was huge. He was absolutely right. And his life is not a currency that I can profit from. I’m being really cautious and conscious of that, but they are not the vehicles for my employment. And if they need to feature in a story, then actually what I need to ensure is that their privacy is sacrosanct. But in terms of being a writer, I think it’s interesting that you talk about your son, not necessarily the misfortune, but how he wasn’t aware in a sense that he was born to a writer. But when you were growing up, when did you first display signs that you wanted to be a writer and how was that received by the people who were around you?
[13:37] Dani Shapiro: When I was growing up, I didn’t know that it was possible to be a writer, or to be any kind of artist or a creative person. It wasn’t the world that I was raised in. I had no role models or mentors. Just really didn’t know anyone who spent their lives making something out of nothing. You know, creating. And yet, if I look back on it, I was a child who always wrote, and always read and processed everything through writing. I wrote stories and told tall tales. And I remember as a child and as a teenager wondering if there was something wrong with me, like whether I was a liar or, you know, that I had this constant need to be making things up. And it wasn’t really until I got to college and I saw that there were writers who were teaching. And I went to a school that was not far from New York City. And so there were working writers who lived in New York and would come up to Sarah Lawrence College and teach a writing course. And they modeled for me, for the first time, the idea that a life as a writer was possible. That didn’t mean that I thought it was possible for me, but I saw that it existed at all and that the books that I loved and that I read were made by a woman alone in a room somewhere.
[15:09] Sinéad Burke: So when you were growing up, when somebody said to you, what do you want to do when you finish school or when you’re older? What was your response?
[15:15] Dani Shapiro: So this is something I was really looking forward to talking to you about because I was — it’s a strange thing to say and I say it as a 57 year old woman — but I was a very pretty girl. And that is what was valued about me. That’s how my mother, in particular, saw me and valued me. And dressed me and paraded me around. So I was valued for what I looked like, which, by the way, I didn’t see. I felt not particularly pretty. I felt like everything was wrong with me. But I understood that I was valued that way and that that is how people saw me.
[16:01] Sinéad Burke: When did you first begin to understand that? When did you first begin to realize that that’s how you were seen by others?
[16:07] Dani Shapiro: I think as a pretty young child, because it was always commented on, I was raised in an observant Jewish family. This has become such a huge part of the story of my life in retrospect, but I didn’t “look” Jewish. And so it was constantly commented on. I had very blond hair and blue eyes and a fair complexion and delicate features and whatever the stereotypical version of what looking Jewish would be, I didn’t look that way. And it was always said to me as a compliment, which was very upsetting and disturbing and uncomfortable because I understood that it was meant to be flattering. But what I was really being told is you don’t look like who you are, or you don’t look like your family. And so growing up, I think I thought I was supposed to grow up and be pretty. So, I mean, I started out acting and modeling a little bit and being in television commercials. Never feeling comfortable, feeling like I was wearing the wrong size clothes or the wrong size shoes. Just nothing about it fit with who I was. But I was sort of used to that. So I just lived that way for a number of years. And it wasn’t until I was 23 — and I know it was when I was 23 because I lost my father in a car crash, and it was a car accident that my mother was badly injured in as well.
[17:49] Dani Shapiro: And I was their only child. And it was one of those before-and-after moments in a life. I’ve had more than one, but that was the first one. And it shocked me to my core. It like rebooted me. Losing my father, who I was very close to. And I woke up, I woke up and I pretty much overnight changed my life. And I began writing seriously. And I finished college and I went to graduate school and I wrote my first novel while I was in graduate school. And that novel was published when I was 27. And then it it all — you know, when we find the place where we’re meant to be, energetically or sort of in the flow of life, when we’re doing what we’re meant to do, that’s in line with our spirit or in line with our soul or in line with who we are, that’s when the world, I think, opens up and makes the space for that to be possible.
[18:52] Sinéad Burke: It’s really interesting hearing you talking about that idea of giving you a compliment because you didn’t look what was stereotypical Jewish. And my experiences are not the same, but are in parallel in that some of the people, even now, closest to me say to me quite often, “I don’t see you as a little person.” And they think they are being kind and positive. But actually, what they’re not saying in that sentence is, “don’t worry, I don’t actually see you as disabled. You’re one of us. You’re not one of them. You’re one of us.” And the power of that and the lack of consideration that they have that I’m actually thrilled to be seen as a little person and to be seen as disabled. It is so much a part of me. And I just wonder how we get to a better place where we allow people to define themselves in many ways. You were talking there about before-and-after moments. What are the other moments that have really changed you?
[19:52] Dani Shapiro: You know, the first before-and-after moment, my parents’ accident, I was young enough to think that perhaps that would be the only one. And the next was years later when I was a new mother, newly married, and I married at 34, so when we decided to have a child, we did it pretty quickly. And my son Jacob was born. And about six months later, he was diagnosed with a rare disease that takes most infants, maybe not necessarily kills them, but there’s brain damage, there’s blindness, there’s a litany of horrors. And we were facing that with the odds that about 15 percent of babies who were diagnosed with this would come out OK. So those aren’t good odds. And there was about a year of medicating him, advocating for him, powerlessness in a way. And that was — his illness was just before 9/11. And we lived in New York. And I was actually playing with him and building a tower of blocks in his bedroom when we heard the first plane hit the towers. And I think the combination of having had a terribly sick infant, and then living in a city that was under attack, we left and moved to the country. I felt I needed to live a life that had peace and space and room in it in a way that I wasn’t living. And by the way, as a girl growing up in New Jersey, all I wanted in the entire world was to live in New York City. I mean, New York City was where everything was happening. And I chose to leave. And it was one of the best choices that I ever made. I live in rural New England. And so that was the second. And then there’s one more. The third was only a few years ago. I’ve written about this in my most recent book. I did a DNA test, recreationally, because my husband was sending away for one and he just said, do you want to do it, too? So I did for no reason. And when my results were returned to me, I learned something that was deeply shocking, but that ultimately also made a huge amount of sense, which was that my father, who raised me and who I adored and who I lost when I was young, had not been my biological father. Hence all of the comments all my life about what I did and didn’t look like. And that has been actually one of the most liberating and empowering discoveries of my life, because I learned something about myself and my identity, something that had been hidden from me all my life by my parents. I learned a kind of profound truth about myself genetically that just made a lot of other things make a tremendous amount of sense.
[25:39] Sinéad Burke: What is it like to live in your body?
[25:43] Dani Shapiro: That’s changed a lot in the last few years. It’s never been comfortable. But in the last few years, you know, after I discovered that my dad had not been my biological father — and I was able to discover the man who was my biological father actually very easily. And I saw his face on a video on YouTube. And I remember getting up off the bed, having just looked at the face of this perfect stranger who was my biological father, and looking at my face in the mirror and seeing my face for the first time. Like actually seeing what I had always not understood. And the feeling of my body, it felt initially like my body wasn’t my body. I would look at my hand or I’d look at my thigh or I’d look at my foot and think what I understood this hand or this thigh or this foot to be is actually both the same and completely different. If our identities are formed by the stories that we tell ourselves and the stories that we’re told, my identity had been formed by a story that was inaccurate, and that I didn’t know was inaccurate. And so I spent probably a year afterwards feeling almost disembodied, really like my body and my mind were separated. And that was a very strange place to be because I have a very long-time yoga practice. I started practicing yoga in 1990. And it is what completely puts me inside my body. And I was unable to practice yoga. I would unroll my mat and the body that was on my mat felt like I had to learn it again. I had to understand whose body that was. I had to reintegrate my memories, my spiritual life. everything, everything about the way that I — the eyes through which I saw the world. And that has been a slow process. It’s ongoing, really.
[27:55] Sinéad Burke: Where are you in that process now?
[27:57] Dani Shapiro: I would say slowly returning. There are certain shocks to the system that are difficult to metabolize, and we don’t choose or control the speed at which we metabolize things. And if we try to rush, then we might rush right past the deeper intuition and what’s there that we’re digging for that we need to know. So I’m unrolling my mat again. It’s interesting in this time that you and I are having this conversation, in this age of sequestering and Covid-19, because it seems like every yoga teacher I know on the planet, and I know a lot of them, they’re all offering Zoom classes and ways of practicing, and it’s actually this marvelous, wonderful moment. We can’t gather, but there’s these offerings that are happening that are of such incredible value. And there’s time.
[28:55] Sinéad Burke: And in this period of isolation, I think it’s really heartwarming, but also great learning, in the fact that to be connected does not mean to be physically sharing the same space. And connection is as much about human emotion and empathy and vulnerability than a physical cup of coffee sitting across from you along with a person. And I think for the disabled community, that is something that we have been talking about for such a long time. And it is wonderful and right — not very timely that it happens right now. But I’m curious in terms of the moment now and these days, when you unroll your yoga mat, what’s the monologue that’s in your head?
[29:43] Dani Shapiro: Presence. Presence. The see-saw between mindfulness and forgetfulness, presence and fear, being in the moment and being plagued with anxiety. I mean, one of the beautiful things about a yoga practice is that the body, you know, the technology of yoga in a way, and meditation as well — I also have a meditation practice that has been stalwart and is a daily habit. There’s that feeling of noticing. I always say to my students, notice what you’re noticing. Are we leaning into the future? Are we leaning back into the past? When we lean into the future, it’s with a feeling of anxiety or worry or comparing or ambition or what’s going to happen. When we lean back, it’s often with grief or sorrow or regret. One thing that I’ve noticed, and I’ve noticed this both because of paying attention to the monologue, paying attention to it, is that I tend to compare myself. It’s probably the least skillful mental habit that I fall into, because it’s of no use. All it really does is create distance. I mean, I know as a writer, one thing — I don’t compare myself as a writer in terms of the work itself. And of course, I fall into the career comparison or things that are the tangible results of being a writer. But in terms of the actual work of it, I think I’ve understood from a very early time in my writing life that I wanted to compare myself with myself. I want my work with each book to be better than my last book. You know, Samuel Beckett said fail, fail better. I always want to be trying to fail better.
[31:41] Sinéad Burke: But in terms of that fluctuation and continuously embracing it, that actually provokes anxiety, does it not? How do you manage it? How do you manage being both the person who is confident in their skill set, but the person who is curious enough to realize that they do not know everything, that they have not manifested the work that should be their best work yet? That teetering is destabilizing.
[32:08] Dani Shapiro: It absolutely is. And it’s also where anything good is born. The moment that any artist or anyone, really, believes in their gift, believes that it will be there for them, has confidence that it will be there for them. That’s when the work begins to suffer and stops being able to connect, because that confidence is actually the enemy of connection. We think confidence is a good thing. We all want it. And we all live in this world where it seems to be applauded and rewarded. But I think we are mistaking confidence with courage. What we do need is courage. And courage means being afraid. Being nervous, being anxious. Calling it out and doing it anyway. I was nervous getting on this call with you. And the minute that you said that you were a little anxious talking to me, my anxiety went away. Because you were telling the truth. And I think that that truth-telling — and I’m very moved by that whole idea, because if I’m backstage and about to go out and speak to hundreds or thousands of people, I’d better be nervous. I’d better have butterflies in my stomach. And if I’m embarking on a new project and the page is blank, I better feel like I don’t know this time, this time might be it. I have this folder on my computer desktop of essays and book reviews, things that I’ve written in the last number of years. And I remember looking at one point and thinking, what do all these have in common? And I realized that each time I began one of them, the thought that went through my mind was here goes nothing. I’m not going to be smart enough. I’m outclassed. I’m over my head. I’m going to fall. I’m going to fail. But you know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to try anyway.
[36:49] Sinéad Burke: The work of a writer, for me, is so intriguing because that nervousness, exactly as you said, is so fundamental to creating the tension within ourselves to bring about either truth or this way in which of noticing the world that perhaps is different to everybody else. But paired with that, and perhaps it’s not confidence, but that ability to be the person at the top of the room with the microphone in your hand is essential for success, and a very capitalist definition of success. But how do you manage almost those two versions of a personality, in a sense, just to do the work?
[37:30] Dani Shapiro: In terms of the work, in terms of being alone in a room with the blank page, that has always been the place that I’m most comfortably uncomfortable. I mean, sure, there have been times that are absolutely excruciating and where I feel despair that I won’t be able to do it. But the alone in the room part has been my natural habitat. The public part, the getting up in front of people, going on television or, you know, any of any of those things. Something happened to me within the last decade or so, and I think it happened to me because of my work. I would write something that felt so specific to me, so idiosyncratically me, that it felt almost shameful. It felt almost like, well, no one’s going to understand this. And that would be the exact thing that people would most connect to. And it happened again and again and again. And I started realizing that we are more alike than we allow ourselves to know most of the time. And so when I get up in front of people, or I’m doing something where the stakes feel very high, I remind myself of that, or I don’t even need to remind myself of that anymore. It feels that I’ve internalized it. And when I teach, I talk a lot about what is the thing that you’re most mortified about? What is the thing that you feel that if anybody knew about you, you would just curl up into a little ball and die of shame? Write that. You don’t have to show anyone, necessarily, write it as if no one will ever read it, but write that. But the thing is, time and time again, that sentence, that sentiment, that thought is the one that readers eventually say, “ah! That moment. Me too. I feel the same way.”
[39:54] Sinéad Burke: There’s truth to it. And it’s without performance, or without camouflage, because it is ourselves at our most ourselves. And speaking of that, we are currently in a very strange time. One that is unpredictably, and probably more reliant on the power of human story, and even more so the power of human connection than ever before. What gives you hope?
[40:18] Dani Shapiro: There’s certainly so much pain and so much self-absorbed behavior in the world right now that we’ve seen on a large scale, and yet the ballast of that, or the antidote to that, I think comes down to kindness. You know, one of the things that I’ve seen in my own life, and because of the kinds of conversations I’ve been having in the last few years, is that very often I think it’s just a human hardwired thing, our very first feeling when something is unfamiliar or strange or frightening is to feel threatened. And when we feel threatened — again, a very primitive reaction — is to just batten down the hatches, close ranks, shut the door. You know, and one of the things that’s very strange about this time that we’re living in is that we actually do have to close the door, and we actually do have to separate physically. And yet these extraordinary outpourings of kindness and selflessness, whether it’s the people on their balconies all over the world applauding the healthcare workers every evening in every city. Or it’s the offerings that people are making of themselves, and the people who are sewing masks, and the people who are out there doing the work that they’re doing so that everyone else can stay sheltered and safe, that we really are truly in this moment. It is so massive, this moment that we’re in. We will not be the same when we come out the other side of this. Where we must realize that we’re all in this together. That, I think is what’s giving me hope, is that there is this powerful movement that is in the direction of compassion and empathy and generosity and kindness.
[42:31] Sinéad Burke: Well, I could not have predicted, or written, a more beautiful denouement for this conversation. Dani, it has been genuinely such a gift to speak with you. I cannot thank you enough for so many insights, not just into your life and the world, but I think anybody who listens to this will feel better about themselves, and their part in this bizarre moment that we are experiencing. I am so very grateful for your time.
[42:59] Dani Shapiro: The pleasure is mine. So lovely to be with you.
[43:07] Sinéad Burke: My favorite part of this conversation was a realization that I had in the middle of it. Dani’s confidence in the importance of her experience as a vehicle to connect with so many was incredibly inspiring. In my advocacy. I try to share parts of my life as a case study to talk about broader themes of inclusion, discrimination, design, fashion, education. I’ve never been as confident as Dani was in the value that has to other people. And perhaps that’s because Dani has this experience for a few years longer than I do. Or maybe it’s just a different kind of mentality. And do we all need to have in place a value on ourselves and our stories and the way in which that shapes others who are around us or even at a distance? What would the world look like if we were all confident that we each had value and our experience was something that others could immeasurably learn from?
[44:05] Sinéad Burke: We are starting to wind down the first season of As Me. We’ll have a few more episodes coming out and then, well, we’ll have an announcement. This week’s person you should know are teachers. The pandemic is a challenge for lots of reasons. I am not a parent. I know lots of people who are. And I think in this moment there has been a prolonged appreciation of the efforts made by those who are working in the frontline as regards to medicine, within our grocery stores and our post offices, and realizing the importance of these people. But I think more and more people are realizing the work it takes to be a teacher. Some people assume that you go into a classroom with no plans, no lessons, and you make it up as you go along, and you hope that children reach whatever stage of development they’re supposed to be reaching at that age. Parents are at home with their children and they are supervising so much work set by teachers. And I hope that when we come out of this, we quantify the skill of teaching in a way that we did a very long time ago, that teachers are pillars of community, and they are so important in how they holistically develop and encourage your child to be themselves. So in this week’s episode, that’s who I’m thinking of.
[45:22] Sinéad Burke: As Me with Sinéad is a Lemonada Media original and is executive produced by Jessica Cordova Kramer. Assistant produced by Claire Jones and edited by Ivan Kuraev. Music is by Jerome Rankin. Our sales and distribution partner is Westwood One. If you’ve liked what you’ve heard, don’t be shy. Tell your friends or listen and subscribe on Apple, Stitcher, Spotify or wherever you like to listen, and rate and review as well. To continue the conversation, find me on Instagram and Twitter @thesineadburke and find Lemonada Media on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook @LemonadaMedia.