In 1997 a sudden chronic illness took me out of the job market.
I couldn’t do the work I’d been doing. And honestly? That was a blessing — because I hated it. I’d been performing adequately out of sheer personal integrity, but my soul was somewhere else entirely.
During the long recovery that followed, I had time to think. About what I could actually do. About what I was really here for. About whether any of it could become a living.
That’s when Thomas Leonard came into my world — and I recognized immediately what was about to become the future of personal development. I tuned in and never looked back. Several years later I graduated with honors from CoachU. Ten years after that I was named International Coach of the Year.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that — I healed. Not just physically. Deeply. Because finding your true path does that. I know this not just because I teach it. I know it because I lived it.
Twenty-six years of building. Stone by stone. Book by book. Client by client.
Yesterday I googled my name.
I dominate three pages.
I sat with that for a long time.
Because here’s the thing nobody tells you about building something real over decades: you can get so used to scratching for scraps that you almost miss the moment the table gets set.
Yesterday we drove through countryside blooming with spring flowers — in a car that is safe and beautiful, with features we once only dreamed about — to a college town we’d never explored. Buddhist temples next to Quaker fellowship halls. Hidden shops. Healthy cafes a few blocks from pizza joints. No schedule. No deadline. Just ease and serendipity and pure pleasure.
I should tell you about the “we.”
I now enjoy a fulfilling and deeply meaningful relationship with someone who not only gets me, but loves me the way I’ve always wanted to be loved. We’re good together. She’s My Person. It took a long time to get here — and for much of that time I didn’t know if I ever would. But so worth the journey. It took all that time to become the person it takes to show up in healthy ways. To be fully present — not only to myself and my world, but to someone who matches me in every way that counts.
To anyone wondering if it’s worth the struggle: yes. But I also have to say — the struggle isn’t outside. It’s inside. And that’s where it matters. Always.
The ironic part? When I stopped looking outside, and finally got comfortable in myself — single and happy, not looking — that’s when they showed up. Not a minute sooner. I’d heard that story before. Now I’m the one living it.
And it didn’t feel hard. It didn’t feel like a sacrifice. It felt like exactly what it was — life delivering what I’d been building toward, quietly, while I was too busy building to notice.
Here’s what I want you to hear:
You can’t receive what you haven’t allowed yourself to claim. I spent years working toward something I couldn’t quite let myself imagine having. Not because I didn’t believe in the work — I believed completely. But because somewhere underneath, I still thought of myself as who I used to be. The person who was sick. The person who was starting over. The person who wasn’t quite ready yet.
I forgot to notice who I’d become.
I had to learn to discipline myself with patience. Turns out that’s harder than it sounds when your default setting is “catastrophize first, ask questions later.” I reined in the impulse toward doom and gloom — mostly. I started opening doors of potential instead, getting curious about what might be, without drowning in coulds. The more clearly I could see a desired outcome, the more motivated I felt. The easier it was to stay in creativity rather than fear. Fear used to run — and ruin — my life. It doesn’t anymore.
The person I am now — the one writing this — is ready for more. Not grasping for it. Not earning it. Just ready to receive it as the natural flow of what’s already been built.
And I can see now what I couldn’t see before: I couldn’t see it because I was living it. You can’t see the forest when you’re in the middle of it. You need to step outside to notice how far it’s grown.
Yesterday I stepped outside.
I liked what I saw.
If you’re in the middle of building something real right now — something that matters, something that will outlast you — I want you to know: the forest is growing. Even when you can’t see it. Especially when you can’t see it.
Keep going. And when the table gets set — let yourself sit down.
If something in this landed for you — there’s usually a pattern underneath it that becomes very clear once you can see it. If you’d like help bringing that into focus, I’ve opened a small number of private sessions.