What happens when you hit the wall and realize you just can’t keep going anymore? We live in a culture that treats constant productivity as normal and rest as something we have to earn. But nothing in nature blooms year-round—and neither do we. If you’re burned out, overwhelmed, or nearing your limit, recovery starts with something we rarely learn how to do: stop, listen to what you actually need, and take yourself seriously.

Lately a theme has been coming up in the conversations I’m having with clients and peers. Should life be fun? What role does fun have in how I create my life? My career? For many of us—especially those of us who adopted the “good girl” persona in childhood—fun is a secondary priority, if it even ranks at all. As an eldest daughter with cPTSD and an atrophied ability to connect to and make sense of my own emotions, needs, and desires, fun was something I drifted far, far away

I think we're living through the collapse of a story. For generations, we've been handed a map for how to build a good life. Work hard. Climb the ladder. Keep achieving. Push through. Ignore your body's signals. Sacrifice now so you can enjoy life later. If you're exhausted, work harder. If you're unhappy, get the promotion. If you're overwhelmed, become more productive. If you're burned out...well, that's just the price of success. For a long time, many of us believed that s

Don’t feel ready to change careers? Learn the three ingredients of readiness—clarity, capacity, and courage—and how to build what you need to move forward.

When people are trying to figure out what to do next in their careers, they usually start in the same place. They take personality assessments. They clarify their values. They make a list of must-haves and deal breakers. They reflect on what they've enjoyed in past roles, what they're good at, and what gives them energy. They research different career paths. None of these are bad ideas. In fact, I use many of these exercises with my coaching clients because they're incredibly

We’ve been sold the idea that we should be able to figure out our careers on our own. But navigating a career transition is hard precisely because you’re inside the problem you’re trying to solve. Sometimes the clarity we need doesn’t come from thinking harder—it comes through conversation, reflection, connection, and letting other people help us see what we can’t see alone.

If you don’t know what you want to do next in your career, the problem may not be that you don’t have an answer. You may have spent years learning not to listen to yourself. Here’s why career clarity can feel so elusive—and how paying attention to your desires, your body, your strengths, and your curiosity can help you begin finding your way forward.

Shame can show up at every stage of a career transition—telling you it’s too late, you should have figured it out by now, or everyone else has it together except you. And when shame activates your nervous system, it can keep you stuck in overthinking, perfectionism, avoidance, or paralysis. Here’s how to recognize the shame gremlin and start loosening its grip.

If you’ve wanted to make a career change for years but still can’t seem to move forward, the problem may not be a lack of clarity or courage. Sometimes we stay stuck because our careers have become tangled up with identities we learned to carry long ago—the responsible one, the high achiever, the caretaker, the practical one. Moving forward may be less about figuring out what to do next and more about asking: Who am I afraid to stop being?

The messy middle of a career transition doesn’t look much like the inspiring “follow your dreams” story we’re usually told. It can look like fear, disappointment, financial pressure, self-doubt, and wondering whether you’ve made a terrible mistake. Here’s what I learned from getting stuck in my own messy middle—and how taking action helped me rebuild momentum, perspective, and self-trust.

Let's talk about capacity. When referring to a vessel like a cup or concert venue, the capacity is: the amount of something it can hold. But what does it really mean when we use it to refer to ourselves / other people? "I don't have the capacity for that conversation." "My capacity for new projects is limited right now." "I didn't know I had the capacity for that much joy/pain/grief." These common phrases speak to the variety of things we might be holding or unable to hold a

Where does one's purpose come from? How do we find it? A friend recently asked me this and it led to a fascinating conversation. As I thought back on my own 20-year exploration of this question, I noticed that the way I think about purpose has changed dramatically. In my 20s and early 30s, my ideas about purpose were much more rigid. I believed each of us had one clearly defined life purpose and it was our responsibility to uncover it as quickly as possible so we could get on

Today is my 41st birthday. As I think back to one year ago, I am amazed at how much I’ve changed and grown since turning 40. One year...

Do you ever struggle with decision-making? Big or small, decisions can leave you spinning—hours, days, sometimes even months. Your mind loops in endless circles. You're exhausted. Paralyzed. Friends say you overthink everything. And even after you choose, you second-guess: Should I have gone with the other option? Did I get it wrong? I worked with a client this week who was stuck in exactly this place. Together, we began to explore what was happening beneath the surface. Firs

When I tell people that I use improv exercises in my coaching workshops, I often get a puzzled look. "What does improv comedy have to do with career transition?" More than you might think. A few years ago, a friend invited me to an improv show at Happier Valley Comedy. At the time, I was navigating my own transition—figuring out what came next professionally, wrestling with uncertainty, and trying to build a life that felt more aligned. What started as a night out eventually

What happens when the only thing keeping you going is momentum—and you’re terrified to stop? For a long time, I kept moving because slowing down felt dangerous. I was on the hamster wheel, overachieving and overextending, convincing myself I could rest once things got better. But they never did. Deep down, I craved a pause—my body was screaming for it—but I couldn’t imagine how to step off. I didn’t want to let my boss or coworkers down. I was afraid of being judged. And hone

I was basically born a coach. This might sound like hyperbole to you, but since I was little, I had a knack for empathizing with others....

At our core, each of us has a deep, inner knowing — a quiet voice that guides us toward what feels right, nourishing, and true. Yet many of us find ourselves disconnected from that knowing, stuck in patterns that leave us exhausted, resentful, and uncertain. How does this happen? How do we lose touch with our truth? It’s not a personal failing. It’s a natural response to the world we live in — shaped by systems like capitalism and patriarchy that condition us to abandon ourse

"It's not that bad." "I'll rest when this project is over." "I don't really have a choice." Most of us have said some version of these things to ourselves. Not because they're true. Because the truth feels much harder to face. If I admitted how exhausted I really am, I might have to stop pushing myself beyond my limits. If I admitted this relationship no longer feels good, I might have to have a difficult conversation—or make a difficult decision. If I admitted my job is drai

I’m a proud, self-proclaimed weirdo. An oddball. A rebel. An outlier. It’s been a 10-year journey of me claiming this and living into it more and more and more. In my younger years I would have cringed to be called a “weirdo” by myself or anyone else. Now, I would cringe to be called “normal”. Now, I believe that it is in our weirdness that our authenticity and our uniqueness lies. “In times such as these, with the world crumbling all around us, why the heck are you talking