Reconnection To Self

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

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

If you're trying to figure out your next career move, chances are you've already tried a lot of things. You've browsed job boards. You've journaled. You've taken career quizzes. You've talked to friends, family, coworkers, and anyone else willing to listen. Maybe you've even dusted off a copy of What Color Is Your Parachute? You've spent hours thinking about what you should do next. And yet somehow you're still stuck. If that's you, I want you to know something: You're not fa

What If I Don't Know What I Want to Do Next in My Career? A few months ago, a woman came to me feeling completely stuck. She was in her 40s and deeply unhappy in her work. Not because it was objectively terrible, but because she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd somehow ended up in the wrong life. As she told me about her career, she kept apologizing for how "all over the place" it sounded. Does this look like you trying to explain your career path to people? "I've never

A few weeks ago, a client (let's call her Amy) told me about a journal entry she had found from ten years ago. In it, she wrote about feeling depressed. About hating her job. About feeling trapped and wondering whether life was supposed to feel this dull and meaningless. As she reread the entry, she felt a chill run through her body. Not because she'd forgotten how unhappy she had been, but because she could have written the exact same words today. Ten years had passed, but t

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...

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

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