I’ve been a child, daughter, friend, lover, wife, survivor, mother, salesperson, teacher, consultant, volunteer, daughter-in-law — and probably a few other roles I’m forgetting. Always doing, fixing, making things happen.

When my kids hit their teen years, I made a conscious effort to just be around — to savor those last few years of them living at home. Of course, they’d reverted to toddler mode: wanting to know I was there but also shouting “no” at every turn and treating my sock drawer like a free-for-all. I did my best to savor it all — even the half-hearted “borrowing” of my clothes that somehow never made it back to my closet.

I’ve always had a bit of a fire in my belly. So after wrapping up another chapter of my working life while they were in high school, I started asking myself:
Who am I now? And who might I want to become?

I read the books. I prototyped a few career ideas. Some were duds. Some lit me up. I knew I connected deeply with people — especially teens and young adults. I earned a certificate in college admissions counseling, but quickly realized I was more interested in what made my students tick than in building school lists or tracking deadlines.

That spark led to deeper training, and eventually, a coaching practice. College admissions counseling was an easier sell — the process is overwhelming, and many parents are happy to hand off the logistics (and the nagging). But convincing parents that self-discovery and career exploration are worth their young adult’s time? That was harder. With all the demands on students — school, sports, jobs — taking time to pause and ask, “Who am I becoming?” can seem… esoteric.

But something clicked when I began working with early college students. That stage — just out of the nest but not yet rooted — turned out to be a sweet spot. I’ve had the privilege of coaching many young people through that terrain. And over time, their parents started asking:
“Can you work with me, too?”

Yes. Yes I can.

So I’m writing to you now — wherever you are in your own unfolding. Maybe you’re midlife, maybe post-crisis, maybe post-kid or post-career or post-what even was that. Maybe you’re just feeling the tug:
Is there more? Is it okay to want more?

Short answer: yes.
Longer answer: it starts with curiosity.

For me, that meant diving into anything related to personal growth, psychology, and the inner workings of being human. I devoured podcasts. I underlined books. I wandered through Jungian psychology, design thinking, nervous system regulation. I navigated the dark rooms. I paid attention to the little jolts — the sparks that lit me up.

And no, I didn’t arrive at some neat, final version of myself. I still slip up. I still have days where I wonder where I go from here. But now, I try to meet myself with grace, curiosity, and a little grit.

This chapter — this act of my life — is about helping others reconnect with their own spark. It’s hard to see yourself clearly, especially when you’ve been playing a role for so long. But with just the right mirror, you don’t just remember who you are —
you come to life.