Listening to Mel Robbins interview Judge Frank Caprio stirred something in me—something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
It reminded me of a part of myself I thought I’d lost: the version of me that believed people were mostly good. The version that hadn’t been worn down by the relentless noise of social media—where algorithms thrive on outrage and nuance is a liability.
I miss that person.
Somewhere along the way, between the online pile-ons, personal attacks, and culture wars, I became jaded. If you’ve ever shared an opinion online, you probably know the feeling: the backlash, the misunderstanding, the way a small chorus of cruel voices can feel louder than anything else.
Note to self: never post your opinion unless you're ready to fight.
But here’s the thing—Judge Caprio’s words cut through all that noise. He spoke with such warmth, such empathy—especially about not punishing the poor—that it hit me in the chest. Hard. As someone who grew up in poverty, I know how deep that kind of struggle runs. It’s not just financial. It’s emotional. It teaches you to be guarded. To mistrust. Sometimes, without even realizing it, you start to hurt others just to keep yourself safe.
There’s pain in poverty—and with it, fear, shame, and survival mechanisms that linger long after the bills are paid.
I’ve wrestled with all of that. And I’ve also seen how suffering, when left unchecked, can turn into anger and cycles of trauma.
But hearing Judge Caprio speak reminded me: there’s another way.
Compassion is still possible. Healing is still possible. And while we don’t choose what happens to us—abuse, injustice, systemic barriers—we do, at some point in the healing process, have a choice in how we show up in the world.
Lately, I’ve been feeling the loss of that part of me that used to show up with more hope. More grace. More belief in the good.
As a culture, I think we’ve lost that, too.
We’ve stopped giving each other the benefit of the doubt. We’ve stopped believing in redemption. We’ve stopped listening.
But this interview reminded me that there are still people leading with empathy. That it’s still possible to care out loud. To offer compassion instead of judgment. To believe in second chances—not just for others, but for ourselves, too.
And maybe, just maybe, I can start leading with that again.
