THE THREAD THROUGH EVERYTHING

My Life Has Never Fit Neatly Into One Box.

I've never been just one thing. I'm a mom. A friend. A leader. A coach. An intuitive. A guide. An artist. A storyteller. A visionary. A creator of experiences. A bright, curious, creative human. And I love being me. 

On the surface, some of those things might seem like very different worlds. For a long time, I thought some of them were, too. But the more I've allowed myself to follow my curiosity, creativity, intuition, and the things that genuinely interest me, the more I've recognized the thread that has been there all along.

I'm fascinated by people. By possibility. I've always had a way of seeing things — and people — a little differently. I notice connections, patterns, possibilities, and things that might be easy to overlook. Sometimes I can see something beautiful or interesting in someone that they haven't quite recognized in themselves yet.

But what excites me isn't simply being able to see it. It's the moment they see it for themselves.

When something clicks. When they recognize what was already there. When they hear their own knowing more clearly. When an idea takes form. When creativity gives something within them a way to be expressed. When an experience opens a new way of seeing or brings them fully into the moment.

I love creating the conditions for those kinds of discoveries — not deciding what someone should find, but offering questions, ideas, perspectives, creativity, art, conversation, or experiences that might help them connect more deeply with what's already within them. That's the thread through so much of what I do.

My work takes different forms because I do, too. Coaching, intuition, art, story, creativity, experiences — they aren't separate things to me. They're different ways of exploring something I genuinely love: What becomes possible when we have room to connect more deeply with ourselves, express more of who we are, and fully experience our lives?

I no longer believe all the parts of us have to fit into one box to belong together.

MY PATH HERE

I Didn't Get Here in a Straight Line.

I spent nearly three decades building a career in technology and leadership. I was good at solving problems, figuring things out, leading people, creating systems, and being the person others could count on. And for a long time, I thought being capable meant I should be able to handle almost anything. That belief was tested in ways I never expected. 

I spent years in an increasingly toxic work environment where I experienced bullying, intimidation, and treatment that slowly changed not only how I felt at work, but how I saw myself. When something went wrong, I looked inward for the problem. What did they want from me? What was I doing wrong? How could I communicate differently? Perform better? Push harder? Do more? Be easier? Be different? I kept trying to figure out how to change myself enough to make an unhealthy environment work. And because solving problems was something I had spent a lifetime becoming very good at, I kept treating myself like one.

That became one of the most important things I eventually had to unlearn: I was not a problem to solve.

There wasn't some better version of me I needed to become in order to finally be valued there. I was in an environment that didn't value me — one that fostered and rewarded toxic behavior. Recognizing that allowed me to begin asking a very different question — not How do I change myself enough to belong here? but What happens when I allow myself to be who I am and choose places where that person is valued?

The decision to leave wasn't easy. I had spent decades building that career. I had given so much to it and sacrificed so much along the way. Walking away from it felt like walking away from a part of who I was. At the time, I was still attaching so much of my identity and worth to what happened there. Eventually, my body made it impossible to continue living the way I had been.

Leaving changed my environment, but it didn't instantly undo what years of living that way had created within me. It did, however, give me the space to begin. I went to therapy to work through the trauma I had experienced. I began learning to listen to my body instead of overriding it. And slowly, I began rebuilding a relationship with myself.

I learned to meet what emerged — mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually — with curiosity and love rather than immediately trying to fix it. Sometimes something needed to be understood. Sometimes felt or witnessed. Sometimes loved or accepted. Sometimes expressed or expanded. And sometimes released. I didn't have to decide in advance what it was supposed to become. I could listen and allow it to show me what it needed. That was a very different way of being with myself.

I also began realizing that not everything was mine to fix. I could care deeply about other people without carrying their journeys for them. I didn't have to manage everyone's reactions, make every situation work, or take responsibility for things that weren't actually mine. There was freedom in learning what belonged to me — my choices, my healing, my body, my knowing, my life — and allowing other people to have what belonged to them.

The more I listened, the more I trusted myself. The more I trusted myself, the more connected I became. And from that connection, I began discovering parts of myself that had become quiet — and others I hadn't yet had the space to fully explore. My body healed. My creativity came alive again. My intuition became something I trusted rather than dismissed. I became curious about what I actually enjoyed, what I wanted, what felt true for me, and what I knew when I wasn't looking outside myself for the answer. And eventually, I looked around and realized I had built a life drastically different from the one I had spent so many years building before.

Life felt brighter. Lighter. More vibrant.

I had rebuilt trust with my body and become physically stronger. I had more room for joy, creativity, curiosity, connection, and the things that genuinely interested me. I felt comfortable fully expressing my gifts again. I didn't have to keep shrinking or playing small because I was afraid being fully myself would make me a target. My capacity for life had grown.

It wasn't a perfect life. It was a life that felt like mine. I felt like me! And I was being me!

And I hadn't done any of this because I was trying to create a new career. I did it for myself. I did it for my children. I wanted to heal, reconnect with myself, create a different way of living, and be the woman God created me to be. Somewhere along the way, I discovered how deeply I loved what I was learning. I came alive with passion. And as my creativity returned, the ideas came with it. I began seeing so many ways I could share what I had discovered — through coaching, conversation, intuition, art, creativity, story, and experiences. I didn't want to keep it all to myself. Not because I believed everyone needed to follow the path I had followed. And certainly not because I had discovered a formula for someone else's life.

Quite the opposite. I had spent enough of my life looking outside myself for answers about who I needed to be. I wasn't interested in becoming another person telling someone else who they should be. I had simply experienced what became possible in my own life when I stopped treating myself as a problem to solve and began building a relationship with myself instead.

And I wanted to create spaces where other people could have room to reconnect with themselves and discover what might become possible from there.