Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should
I've been thinking a lot lately about the difference between being able to do something and actually wanting to.
Because those aren't always the same thing.
I can keep going.
I can keep trying.
I can keep giving more.
I can keep making it work.
And for a long time, I think I confused my ability to continue with a reason to continue.
But just because I can keep doing something doesn't mean I want to.
And it doesn't mean I should.
Being capable can be its own kind of trap.
When you're good at handling things, people trust you with more things.
And you get pretty good at saying yes.
You figure it out.
You make it work.
You adapt.
You carry it.
You keep going.
Until one day you realize you're living inside a life that requires you to be really good at carrying things you don't actually want to carry anymore.
I've been thinking about this in a few different areas of my own life.
One of them was a relationship.
I could have stayed even longer.
I could have kept trying.
I could have kept giving more of myself to it, hoping that somehow more effort would produce a different experience.
But eventually I had to acknowledge something that was both simple and incredibly difficult:
I could stay. I just didn't want to anymore.
Not because I didn't care.
Not because I hadn't tried.
Not because there weren't good things there.
But because the relationship wasn't healthy for me anymore, and continuing to give more of myself wasn't changing that.
There is a strange kind of grief in realizing that something you could continue doing is something you no longer want to do.
Because capability can make almost anything feel like an obligation.
But I can.
But maybe I should try one more time.
But what if I just...
And sometimes the more capable you are, the longer you can stay in something that isn't working.
Because you can tolerate it.
You can manage it.
You can explain it.
You can make it look okay from the outside.
But that doesn't mean it's okay for you.
I've noticed the same thing in my work.
I could keep working at a breakneck pace.
I could travel all over the place for work.
I could keep saying yes to opportunities, taking on more projects, building more things, squeezing more into the calendar.
And honestly?
I probably could.
But I've gotten much more honest about the cost.
More work means less time with my daughter.
More travel means less consistency in my life.
More commitments mean less space to take care of myself, think, create, or simply be.
And at some point, the question stopped being:
Can I handle this?
And became:
Do I want my life to require me to handle this?
That is a very different question. Because there will almost always be more you could do.
More you could accomplish.
More money you could make.
More people you could help.
More places you could go.
More problems you could solve.
More ways you could stretch yourself.
You are probably capable of much more than you actually want your life to contain.
And that's not a failure.
That's discernment.
Maybe the goal isn't to find your limit.
Maybe it's to decide what deserves your capacity. Because capacity isn't an obligation.
Being good at something doesn't mean you have to keep doing it.
Being needed doesn't mean you have to keep saying yes.
Being able to handle something doesn't mean it's healthy for you to keep carrying it.
And staying isn't always the same thing as choosing.
Sometimes staying is just what happens when we haven't given ourselves permission to leave.
Sometimes doing more is just what happens when we haven't stopped long enough to ask whether more is actually what we want.
And sometimes the most honest answer is:
I could keep doing this.
I just don't want to.
There's freedom in that sentence.
Not because it gives us permission to abandon every hard thing.
But because it reminds us that our lives are not meant to be built entirely around what we're capable of enduring.
So what are you still doing because you can?
What are you continuing because you're good at it?
What are you carrying because you've always carried it?
Where have you confused being needed with being fulfilled?
What are you tolerating because you know you can handle it?
And maybe the harder question:
What would you choose if you stopped using your capacity as the reason to stay?
You don't have to blow everything up.
You don't have to quit your job tomorrow.
You don't have to end a relationship.
You don't have to make some dramatic five-year plan.
But you might be ready to stop automatically saying yes simply because you can.
You might be ready to make a different choice.
And maybe that's what this whole process of doing less and creating space has been leading toward.
Not figuring out how to fit more into your life.
Figuring out what you actually want your life to hold.
Do Less. Make Space. Live Differently.
Maybe you've been noticing some of these questions, too.
Maybe you're realizing that the way you've been living works—but isn't necessarily working for you anymore.
That's exactly what we'll explore together in my upcoming workshop:
Do Less. Make Space. Live Differently.
A workshop for stepping out of autopilot and creating more room for what actually matters.
We'll slow things down enough to look honestly at what you're carrying, what's taking up your energy, and what you're ready to make room for next.
Thursday, October 8 • 1 PM EST (10am PST/11am MT/12pm CST)
You don't need a five-year plan.
You don't need to have everything figured out.
Just bring a little curiosity and a willingness to look at your life differently.
Make Space Before You Need It
I've been thinking about space lately. Not just the kind of space you create when you're completely overwhelmed and something finally has to give.
I'm talking about creating space before you need it.
Before you're burned out.
Before you're resentful.
Before your body starts telling you what you were unwilling to hear.
Before life makes the decision for you.
This summer, I experimented with something I don't always find particularly easy:
I left some things open.
Not everything.
I still had plans. Trips. Camp. Work. Things that needed to happen.
But instead of filling every available inch of the calendar, I created a little more room to see what the day might hold.
And surprisingly, I needed some structure to be able to do that.
I needed bookends, not a box.
I started my mornings the way I usually do—with a page of journaling: Gratitudes. Plans. What I'm striving for. What I need. Affirmations.
And then I left the rest of the day fairly open.
At night, I had another simple bookend: magnesium, a fiction book, and no screens while I wound down for sleep.
That's it. Nothing elaborate.
But those little anchors gave me enough structure that the unstructured parts of the day didn't feel quite so unknown. And at first, the unknown made me feel a little anxious.
I was coming off a school-year schedule where everything runs on a clock—where there is always somewhere to be and something that needs to happen next.
Then came summer.
Trips here and there.
Beach days—some solo, some with a ridiculous number of friends.
Impromptu bike rides.
Hikes.
Boat rides.
Days that didn't have a particularly compelling reason to exist other than... it was a beautiful day.
And slowly, I settled.
Not all at once.
It was more like the three clicks of lowering the speed on a ceiling fan.
Click--from high to medium speed.
Click--from medium to slow speed.
Click--from slow to finally off.
A little less movement, less urgency, a little more air—and eventually, I noticed something.
I was more present.
I wasn't constantly thinking about where I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to be doing next. I had more room to notice what I actually wanted to do. I felt calmer and more creative. And more available to the moment I was actually in.
Space gives us information.
When we're constantly moving, it's very easy to stay focused on what's next. But when things slow down, we can start to notice what's happening now.
What feels good.
What doesn't.
What we're tired of.
What we're excited about.
What we've been tolerating.
What we've been avoiding.
What we've been carrying.
That last one surprised me.
There were things I'd been carrying for a long time that became much harder to outrun when I wasn't constantly busy.
And some of what found me in that space was painful. But it was also clarifying.
Because I think sometimes we stay busy because we're busy.
And sometimes we stay busy because being busy keeps us from having to feel, question, or acknowledge what's underneath it.
When the noise gets quieter, you might hear something you've been trying not to hear. You might realize that something isn't working anymore. You might notice that you've outgrown something. You might have a maybe....
Maybe I don't want to do this anymore...
Maybe I want something different...
Maybe I need more...
Maybe I need less...
And here's the thing:
You don't have to know the answer yet.
You just have to be willing to notice the question.
What if you made space before you needed it?
I think we're pretty good at creating space when we're forced to--when we're exhausted, when something falls apart, when we're sick. When we finally realize we can't keep doing things the way we've been doing them.
But what if space wasn't something we earned through exhaustion?
What if it was something we intentionally created because we understood its value?
Not a completely empty calendar or abandoning responsibility.
Not opting out of ambition. Just...room.
Room for an afternoon to unfold.
Room for an unexpected invitation.
Room for a new idea.
Room to hear yourself think.
Room to notice what you've been feeling.
Room to imagine what your life could look like if you weren't automatically organizing it around everything you've always done.
Because maybe that's the real gift of space. It's not that it makes life easier.
It's that it gives you enough distance from the life you're living to actually see it.
And once you can see it, you can start asking better questions:
Do I like the way I'm living?
What would I change if I weren't so busy managing everything?
What have I been saying "maybe someday" about?
What would I want more of?
What would I want less of?
You don't have to blow everything up or have to have a five-year plan or even have to know what comes next.
Maybe, for now, just create a little space and then pay attention to what you find there. Because sometimes the thing we need isn't another answer. It's enough room to finally hear the question.
Let's Do Less
I spent a lot of this summer thinking about doing less.
Which is funny because, if I'm being honest, I also spent a lot of this summer doing... quite a lot.
There was Italy with Phoebe. Beach days with friends. Getting her off to camp. A concert road trip to meet friends and see Qveen Herby. Crabbing. Boat rides. Working behind the scenes on Wrecking Ball Revolution. Building programs. Writing emails. Creating social media. Navigating changes to timelines and plans.
There were things I expected. And plenty that I didn't.
In other words, it was summer.
Messy and beautiful and full and, at times, a little bit chaotic.
But somewhere along the way, I kept coming back to the same thought:
What if we stopped trying to fit it all in?
The Italian summer I didn't know I needed
When Phoebe and I went to Italy, we didn't do it like a tour.
We didn't race from historical destination to historical destination or wake up every morning with a strict itinerary designed to make sure we got the absolute most out of every single day.
Instead, we had an Italian summer.
We ate gelato. (A lot of gelato.)
We spent sunny days by the sea and hours in the water. We wandered. We lingered. We adjusted plans. We let some days unfold without knowing exactly where they were going.
And because we weren't trying to squeeze everything in, we actually got to experience what we were doing.
We got to taste the gelato. Really taste it.
We got to sit in the sun without immediately wondering where we needed to be next. We got to spend hours in the sea because there wasn't something more important waiting on the other side of the afternoon.
We didn't see everything. But I don't think we missed much. And I've been thinking about that ever since.
Because how often do we approach our actual lives the exact opposite way?
We try to fit it all in:
- The goals.
- The work.
- The relationships.
- The projects.
- The things we're genuinely excited about.
- The things we feel obligated to do.
- The things we're doing because we're good at them.
- The things we're doing because nobody else has stepped up.
And before we know it, we're wearing so many hats and moving in so many directions that we're never really anywhere.
We're half in and half out of everything.
Maybe the problem isn't that we need to manage it all better
I think we often try to solve overwhelm by becoming better at managing more...
- We need a better system.
- A better schedule.
- A new planner.
- More discipline.
- Better boundaries.
- A more productive morning routine.
And listen, I love a good system. Structure can be incredibly helpful—especially during transitions.
But sometimes the problem isn't that we haven't figured out how to manage it all.
Maybe there's just too much.
I know. Not exactly groundbreaking. And yet, here we are.
Trying to optimize lives that may simply need to be edited.
I've been looking at this in my own life as we head into a new season.
My part of Wrecking Ball Revolution is done. The manuscript is complete, and now the book is moving through the next stages with the team.
Originally, the book was supposed to be released in September.
Now, it will be released in January.
And while part of me has had to navigate the feelings around letting go of my original plan, another part of me immediately went into: Okay. What can we do now?
So this summer, alongside the team, I've been doing everything I possibly can to get ready behind the scenes.
Emails. Programs. Social media. Planning. Building. Preparing.
Trying to make sure that when January gets here, we're ready--I'm proud of that.
But I've also had to ask myself:
Just because there is more I can do, does that mean I need to do it?
Because I can always find another thing to work on.
Another idea to develop.
Another post to create.
Another project to launch.
Another way to prepare.
I'm capable. So are you, probably. And that can actually be part of the problem.
When you're capable, there will always be more you could do.
That doesn't mean all of it deserves your time.
Doing less doesn't mean wanting less
This is important to me because when I say, "Let's do less," I don't mean let's become less ambitious.
I don't mean dream smaller. I don't mean stop caring. I don't mean abandon the things that matter to you and move to Italy to eat gelato for the rest of your life.
Although, let's be honest, I'm not completely opposed to exploring that option ;)
I mean something else.
What if doing less allowed us to do what matters better?
What if, instead of spreading ourselves across ten different priorities, we chose a few and gave them our full attention?
What if, instead of constantly adding to our plate, we started asking what could come off?
What if we stopped measuring our lives by how much we can hold and started paying attention to the quality of how we're actually showing up?
Because when we're spread too thin, nothing gets done particularly well.
We might be technically moving ten different balls forward, but we're doing it while thinking about the other nine.
We're working while worrying about everything we're not getting done.
We're with people we love while mentally checking our to-do list.
We're trying to relax while feeling guilty that we should be productive.
We're trying to focus while being pulled in six different directions.
And then we wonder why we feel exhausted.
At some point, more becomes dilution.
And maybe doing less isn't about creating an easier life.
Maybe it's about creating a life you can actually fully participate in.
Before you get on the next rollercoaster...
Every year, there seems to be a moment when summer starts winding down and we collectively prepare to get our lives back together...
School starts.
Schedules return.
Calendars fill up.
Fall arrives with its own particular brand of, Okay, let's get serious now.
And structure is helpful.
Schedules are helpful.
Routines are helpful.
But before you start organizing everything outside of yourself, I want to offer a different kind of check-in.
Before you get on the next rollercoaster—or maybe before you jump off one rollercoaster and immediately hop onto the next one—pause for a minute.
Ask yourself:
What am I carrying right now?
What actually matters to me in this next season?
What am I doing because I want to—and what am I doing because I've always done it, because I can, or because I think I should?
Where am I spread too thin?
What needs to come off my plate before I put anything else on it?
That last question has been especially important for me.
Because this summer also reminded me what it feels like to loosen my grip on the plan a little.
To be surprised by life again. To leave room for an unexpected adventure in an ordinary place--A concert road trip. An afternoon on a boat. Going crabbing. A day without an agenda.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I found myself paying closer attention to the difference between joy and constantly managing my nervous system around someone or something.
I think sometimes we become so accustomed to managing, anticipating, planning, and preparing that we don't realize how much energy it takes until we experience something different.
Something lighter.
Something more joyful.
Something that doesn't require us to be constantly braced for what's coming next.
And maybe that's another reason to do less.
Not just so we can rest.
But so we have enough room to notice what else might be possible.
Let's do less. And let's do it well.
I'm not writing this from the other side of some perfectly curated, minimalist life.
I'm writing it as someone who is actively looking at her own plate and asking what actually belongs there.
As someone who loves big ideas and meaningful work and who is capable of doing a lot. But most especially as someone who is learning that capability isn't always an invitation.
Just because I can do something doesn't mean I should.
Just because I can carry something doesn't mean it's mine to carry.
Just because I have room on my calendar doesn't mean I have room in my life.
And just because I have another idea doesn't mean it needs to become another project.
I'm still figuring out what doing less looks like.
But I know this:
I want to be present enough to taste the gelato. Focused enough to do the things that matter well, open enough to be surprised by life, and discerning enough to know that I don't have to do everything.
Neither do you.
So as we move into this next season, maybe the question isn't:
How can I fit it all in?
Maybe the better question is:
What if I didn't have to?
Let's do less.
And let's do it well.
The Quality of Your Life Changes When You Become More Honest With Yourself
Lately, one of the biggest realizations I’ve been having while leading my One Brave Move program is this:
The quality of our lives changes when we become more honest with ourselves.
And I don’t mean “honest” in a punishing or self-critical way.
I don’t mean realizing you’ve been lying to yourself.
I mean something quieter and far more human than that:
slowly coming more online with who you actually are instead of who you thought you needed to be.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve watched incredibly capable, thoughtful, high-functioning people begin acknowledging truths they’ve likely known for a long time but hadn’t fully allowed themselves to feel.
That they’re burnt out.
That they’ve outgrown certain ways of operating.
That they’ve spent years performing competence while quietly disconnecting from themselves.
That achievement alone doesn’t create meaning.
That they’ve become so responsible for everyone and everything around them that they no longer know how to hear themselves clearly.
And as I’ve guided these conversations, I’ve found myself reflecting on many of the same things too.
Because this work doesn’t end when you become self-aware.
It deepens.
I think many of us unconsciously build identities around adaptation:
being dependable
being productive
being needed
being successful
being emotionally low-maintenance
being the one who can hold everything together
And those identities often serve us for a long time.
Until one day they don’t.
Until we realize we’ve become highly skilled at functioning while simultaneously feeling disconnected from ourselves.
That realization can feel unsettling at first because honesty often disrupts comfort.
Once you begin telling yourself the truth, it becomes harder to continue tolerating things that no longer align:
relationships that drain you
patterns that diminish you
work that disconnects you
ways of living that require constant self-abandonment
And that’s where many people get stuck.
Not because they don’t know.
But because honesty asks something from them.
It may ask you to speak up.
To slow down.
To disappoint people.
To change direction.
To stop proving yourself.
To admit that what once fit no longer does.
That’s vulnerable work.
But I also believe it’s the work that creates a more meaningful life.
Because there is something deeply exhausting about continuously performing versions of ourselves that no longer feel true.
And there is something deeply freeing about becoming more honest about:
what you want
what you need
what hurts
what matters
what you’re no longer available for
and who you are becoming.
Not perfectly.
Not all at once.
But consciously.
Maybe growth isn’t about becoming someone completely different.
Maybe it’s about becoming more deeply connected to who you already are beneath the expectations, performance, conditioning, and survival strategies.
And maybe that’s where a more honest life begins.
If this resonated, I’d love to hear what honest conversation you may need to have with yourself right now. These are the exact kinds of conversations we’ve been having inside One Brave Move… you can learn more and apply here: https://themindrise.com/one-brave-move/
When Doing More Became My Way of Feeling Less
There was a time when the answer to everything was to just do more.
Feeling overwhelmed? Hustle harder.
Feeling disconnected? Start a new project.
Feeling lost? Set a goal. Hit it. Set another.
And for a while, it worked.
Especially when things were falling apart behind the scenes.
Years ago, when my marriage was unraveling, I didn’t slow down. I didn’t let myself feel the grief, the fear, or the shame.
Instead, I worked more.
Because work was the one place I still felt in control.
It was where I felt powerful, effective, and needed.
So I buried myself in my business—and it thrived.
On paper, I was at my best.
But in truth, I was using success to avoid the pain I didn’t know how to sit with.
And honestly? It was easier to keep winning than it was to admit I was hurting.
Even in the years after—in the moments of feeling out of control in parenting or in feeling my feelings…I inevitably ended up opening my laptop and feeling back in the driver’s seat even if just for a few moments.
But here's what I’ve learned since then:
👉 You can’t outwork your emotions.
👉 You can’t achieve your way out of disconnection.
👉 And eventually, all that pushing catches up with you.
What I was really craving wasn’t another goal—it was permission to feel.
To pause.
To put myself back on the menu—not just as a leader or a provider, but as a whole human.
If you’re someone who always finds a way to keep going—even when your spirit is exhausted—I want you to know: you’re not broken. You’re just tired of avoiding yourself.
You’re allowed to want more.
Not just more success—more peace, more presence, more you.
NEXT STEPS:
At Mindrise, we help ambitious leaders come home to themselves. We create space for you to lead with clarity, reconnect with your purpose, and build a life that actually feels as good as it looks.
✨ If you’re ready to stop running and start rising—Explore our courses and coaching here: www.themindrise.com/courses
The Power of Saying Yes (Even When You're Not 100% Ready)
If you're anything like me—and if you're reading this, I suspect you are—your ambition is both a compass and a weight. It drives you forward, fills your calendar, earns you the accolades… but it can also keep you tethered to a version of life that looks successful from the outside while leaving you quietly wondering:
Is this it?
That question has whispered to me more than once.
But recently, something shifted.
After months (okay, years) of wrestling with resistance, overthinking, and the familiar loop of "Is this the right time?", I signed a publishing deal to release my third book.
This is a project that has lived in my bones for a while. And the moment I said yes—really said yes—not just on paper but in my body, something unlocked. It was as if a trapdoor opened and I floated up into a new level of my life. More energy. More clarity. More me.
And that got me thinking.
Why does it so often take a big decision—a courageous one—to feel like we’re breathing again?
I think it's because the discomfort you're feeling right now, the stress, the overwhelm, the quiet wondering if you're missing something—it's not a flaw in your ambition. It's a signal.
It’s the part of you that’s craving alignment, not just achievement.
And here's what I’m learning (again and again):
Upgrading your life rarely feels comfortable at first. But the moment you step into it, you feel buoyant in a way that no amount of hustling ever gives you.
Maybe you’re standing in front of your own version of a big decision right now. Maybe it feels risky. Or inconvenient. Or wildly overdue.
And maybe—just maybe—that decision is the doorway to the next version of you.
I can’t wait to share more about the book and the journey (you know I will). But for now, I just want to say:
You’re not wrong for craving more.
You're not broken because you're tired.
And you’re definitely not alone.
What If “Safe” Isn’t Enough—How I Found the Courage to Step Into the Unknown
I remember it like it was yesterday—what it was like to feel safe, stuck, and restless all at once. To have a life that’s so predictable, so secure, so “fine,” and yet to feel this small voice whisper… Something’s missing.
I want to tell you a story. About when I left the career I had poured everything into. The job that people told me “you’ve made it”—secure, reliable, the kind of job that’s hard to walk away from because you can. I was good at it. And yet… I was haunted by that question: What’s next?
It was terrifying. I didn’t really know how to start a business, build something from scratch, show up in ways I had never shown up before. But I kept feeling this pull. Not a loud shout—just a steady tug in my bones, reminding me that I owed it to myself to follow what I didn’t yet understand.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it—there were messy moments. Fear, doubt, a lot of fumbling in the dark. But little by little, I learned. I got stronger. I started aligning what I did with who I am, instead of just staying safe in what I knew.
Here are a few of the lessons I wish I’d known then—because you might be standing in a very similar place:
Sometimes courage is just showing up each morning and saying, “I can try.”
The unknown isn’t void—it’s possibility. And possibility gets shaped as you walk.
When you follow that pull—even when you don’t have clarity—you learn things you didn’t know you needed.
If you’re reading this, perhaps you’re somewhere between “I know this isn’t everything” and “I want to step off the edge—but I need a hand.” I want you to know: that pull matters. And you don’t have to do it alone.
Here are two things you might find helpful right now:
1. Free Resource: Vision Map Masterclass
If what you’re doing right now feels “off,” or if there’s a whisper inside saying there’s something more—but you’re not yet clear what…This masterclass helps you get clear, sketch out what’s emerging, and name the possibilities. Check it out here → Vision Map Masterclass
2. Work 1:1 With Me: Own Your Power Mastery Program
And if you’re standing on that precipice—heart pounding at possibility, but want support, clarity, accountability—this is for you. We’ll work together to not just imagine what’s next—but plan and move into it with confidence. Learn more & apply here → Own Your Power Mastery
3 Must-Ask Questions for This Summer
As the summer sun warms up the days, it’s the perfect time to hit pause and think about personal growth and mindfulness. Summer’s relaxed vibe is a great chance to ask yourself key questions that could spark meaningful changes before the usual chaos of a new school year or work schedule kicks in.
Whether you're a go-getter looking to boost your skills or just wanting some clarity and purpose, this season invites you to dig deep and get to know yourself better. By diving into some thoughtful summer self-reflection, you can make intentional choices that’ll help you tackle the challenges ahead. Let's start this journey of personal development, where relaxation meets productivity, and every bit of downtime turns into a stepping stone toward a more fulfilling you.
Summer offers a unique opportunity for introspection and personal growth. This section explores essential questions to guide your self-reflection journey, helping you gain clarity and purpose in your life.
Explore Your Personal Growth
Self-reflection is a powerful tool for personal growth. It allows you to evaluate your progress, identify areas for improvement, and celebrate your achievements.
- Start by asking yourself: "What have I learned about myself in the past year?" This question encourages you to recognize your strengths and weaknesses, helping you build on your successes and address your challenges.
- Next, consider: "What habits or behaviors have held me back?" Identifying these patterns is the first step toward positive change. Be honest with yourself, but avoid self-judgment. Instead, approach this question with curiosity and compassion.
- Finally, ask: "What new skills or experiences do I want to gain?" This forward-looking question helps you set goals and create a roadmap for your personal development. Remember, growth often happens outside your comfort zone.
Balancing Relaxation with Intentional Choices
Summer's all about taking it easy, but it's a prime time to make choices that also fuel your personal growth.
Think about structuring your summer days with both relaxation and productivity. Like, why not kick things off with a peaceful morning walk, dive into a pet project in the afternoon, and wind down with a good book in the evening?
Make mindful decisions by pausing to ask, "Does this fit with my goals and values?" It's a simple way to ensure your chill time also nudges you toward growth.
Balance is your best friend. Savor those relaxing breaks without the guilt, yet keep your eye on your growth aspirations. With this harmonious approach, you’re setting the stage for an enriching and rewarding summer.
Is it Time for a Summer Reset? 3 Signs You Can't Ignore
I’m into the idea of a “Summer Reset.” Summer has always felt like a natural invitation to pause and reset. Yet, for many of us—ahem…high-achievers—this season can easily become just another stretch of packed calendars and relentless hustle. Then summer comes to an end and we’re absolutely toast but needing to get back to the grind of back-to-school and chasing our goals to Q4. It’s relentless.
This happens for me nearly EVERY start to summer…it’s as if I completely black out from the summer before (you might remember when I wrote this blog about the Summer of Slow)
How do you know it’s time for a summer reset?
Here are three unmistakable signs:
You’re running on empty: If you wake up tired, feel overwhelmed by even simple tasks, or notice your energy reserves are at an all-time low, it’s a clear signal you need to pause and replenish—I’ve been there, exhausted even when I just woke up in the morning…
Your emotions are on overdrive: Snapping at small things, feeling unusually irritable, anxious, or overwhelmed means your emotional bandwidth is maxed out and you’re overdue for a break—this sign is one I hate the most because then I’m angry at myself for having such a short fuse…
Your body feels tense and tight: Persistent headaches, muscle tension, or a general sense of physical discomfort are your body’s way of telling you it’s time to step back and reset—I’m typing this to you after just finishing a workout AND a massage…because I’m pretty sure if I didn’t the tension in my neck and back were about to totally take over!
This year, I’m choosing to define and commit to a “summer reset.” It’s not about doing less for the sake of it, but about intentionally reconnecting with myself, those I love, and the purpose that fuels me. I want to invite you to join me. Imagine what could shift if you allowed yourself to truly reap the rewards of your hard work—to slow down, savor, and realign with what matters most.
A reset isn’t a retreat from ambition;
it’s a powerful act of self-leadership and renewal.
Here’s my challenge for you: Take three steps to reset this summer.
First, carve out intentional time for yourself—not just the leftovers after work and family, but real moments to reflect, dream, and recharge. (I’m currently on a solo-trip reconnecting with myself and it feels magical and very necessary rn). Second, nurture your relationships. Whether it’s a spontaneous trip, a family adventure, or simply being present over dinner, let connection be your compass. And third, reclaim your personal power. If you’re ready to go deeper, my signature 1:1 empowerment and coaching program, Own Your Power, is designed specifically for leaders like you who are ready to reconnect with themselves and their purpose on a whole new level.
You’ve worked hard to build a life of freedom and impact—now is the time to fully live it. Let this summer be your reset. Commit to yourself, your people, and your purpose. The rewards are waiting.
Ayahuasca + My trip to Peru
I took a small bus 8hrs into the jungle, the experience felt like being inside a washing machine while traveling to the heart of Te Fiti in Moana.
Incredibly green. I took a picture of the first waterfall I saw, thinking this was a special exception, turns out it would be one of many—so many that I lost count.
The company of the ride was amazing, everyone speaking Spanish, new to each other, having no idea that I couldn’t understand much of it, I enjoyed both the experience of ease dropping and the excitement of picking up a few palabras (words) that I knew. It was also sweet relief to enjoy the voices as background noise as I exhaled from the treadmill of life I had been on as I melted into the present moment…
Eventually the jig was up--they discovered I wasn't fluent in Spanish and took turns being my translator. We wove through the jungle exchanging stories of travel and experiences of different cultures and life, them practicing their english and me being playfully laughed at for my attempts at Spanish.
I came here for an Ayahuasca journey. If you’ve been following the podcast, we've had two interview episodes with Alex and Lance who shared their experience of plant medicine, you can check them out below. Up until a few weeks ago, Ayahuasca was never a plan for me.
I’m going to tell you why and how that all suddenly changed as well as a deep dive into my experience on the first episode of The Mindrise Podcast for 2024, stay tuned for that release soon.
In the meantime, what I have to say about Ayahuasca is that it is certainly a powerful medicine and path to unblock yourself to look deep within. Spoiler alert: I did not have any crazy LSD-like experiences, but on the upcoming podcast episode, I will tell you what I learned along the way.
