Blog

Even as a coach who teaches people to listen to their bodies, I recently ignored my own pain until everything seized up. What I learned about real self-care is reshaping how I show up for myself—and for others.

My grandson’s small moment among the fallen leaves reminded me what this in-between season is asking of us.

Play is the art of risking without fear of being wrong.

We even defied gravity to get here. Up in the air from near and far, we flew.
We left our jobs, families, friends, communities — to build this one, again and again.

“Everything I sought after was right here in front of me.”

Most of my work as a life and leadership coach, when you boil it down, is about secrets.

This Father’s Day, I’m reflecting on the kind of love that holds space instead of control—and how my dad’s unwavering trust in me changed everything.

There’s a lie that keeps many of us on a treadmill of self-destruction.

This thought recently smacked me in the head.
And I felt lighter.

What resentment might be trying to tell you.

I used to think strength meant protection. Armor. Always being ready to fight.

We often think of self-abandonment as something dramatic — but the truth is, most of us do it quietly. Repeatedly. Even unknowingly.

I thought I’d found the love of my life in Italy. But the fairytale unraveled—and I was left alone in a story I no longer believed in.

Alone in the wilderness, I wasn’t just fighting fear.
I was meeting the one person I’d been avoiding.

Facing your pain may be the most sacred act of self-care.

When I made my dad faint with a story, I learned something unforgettable: storytelling isn't just about words — it's about connection, emotion, and power.

Surrender isn’t weakness. Sometimes it’s the bravest self-care we can offer ourselves — especially when the only thing left to do is ask someone to hold our hand.

I'm done with Operation Covert Ambition.