For a long time, waiting felt like something I needed to explain.

The truth is, for most of my 30s, waiting was a choice. We were building a business, living a big life, and we were genuinely just not ready. (I know people say “you’re never ready”, but we truly didn’t want to start a family.) So we kept pushing it off. The business exploded in the best way. Life got bigger, busier, more fulfilling. We were focused on our goals, on freedom, on each other.

And so… we kept pushing it off.

When we finally felt about 49% ready, I was already 38 years old and well… things didn’t go the way we thought or had hoped or transparently… naively assumed.

Two years. An ectopic pregnancy, emergency surgery, a fallopian tube removed. And then a miscarriage. A grief that nobody really prepares you for. For me… an anger and shame that I could have never imagined myself to feel. A timeline that kept getting pushed off and seemingly was out of our control.

Eventually at 40, I welcomed my incredible daughter into this world and while becoming her mom has been the biggest blessing… there are so many things I’ve also had to stumble through. Things I wish I had thought about years before I was even "ready” to start trying. Things I wish more people talked about openly. So, I’m writing this for the woman who needs to hear she’s not the only one. The woman who isn’t sure yet.

Of course, I’m simply writing from my own experience of becoming a first time mom at 40.

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THE ASSUMPTION NOBODY ASKED FOR

Being pregnant at 40 opened the door to lots of opinions and assumptions. When I finally announced I was pregnant (at 25 weeks), I was flooded with dozens (over 50) of women in my DMs.

Women all asking me some variation of:
- How many rounds of IVF did you do?
- What are interventions had you tried?
- Did you use a donor sperm/egg?

People had assumed that getting pregnant was a struggle, it wasn’t.
In fact, all four of my pregnancies happened on the first try, I just kept losing them.

TBH, it was interesting… strange even to be on the other side of so many assumptions. All assumptions simply because of my age. It was also awkward and made me almost feel guilt that we hadn’t struggled.

Assumptions aside, here’s what the experience has felt like for me since my daughter was born nearly 20 months ago.

THE TIMELINES LONELINESS

I didn’t realize how “out of sync” and “behind” I would feel compared to the majority of my friends.

So many of them have 9–14 year olds. I have a 20-month-old. Their kids are becoming independent, heading towards middle & high school, cooking their own food. Their houses are neat & tidy with cute decor perfectly placed. My toddler is learning to say “no” to everything and emptying every cabinet she can reach. My house… see last line about cabinets being emptied LOL.

Think of it like this: we’re all on the same hiking trail, but they left hours before me. I can see them up ahead, finishing a section that I’m just beginning. We’re on the same path, but we’re not experiencing it together.

Of course, I wouldn’t change it. Her friends’ parents will eventually become my friends (hopefully). And actually, even if they do become my friends… I’ll likely be a good 5-15 years older than them which can make those relationships a bit challenging as well.

Right now, my current friends are in a completely different chapter… and it’s often unexpectedly lonely. But let me also say this, I’m well aware that us being in different chapters has actually been the case for the last decade. While they were home changing diapers and baby proofing their house, I was jet setting around the world, speaking on stages, and growing my business.

So yeah, this isn’t the first time we’re a mile apart on the same trial. But, it’s hard for me now to not feel like the one who’s behind.

THE IDENTITY EARTHQUAKE

I think all women go through some version of identity grief when they become a mother. But for me, becoming a mother at 40… after having lived so much life, built so much, achieved so much; it has felt like the ultimate contraction.

My identity and ego had been built on decades of external markers: work, awards, accolades, travel, milestones, revenue, recognition. I knew who I was because of what I had done and what I was building.

Motherhood took all of that away overnight.
And I was left asking… who am I without any of that?

I will say, I had been working as an entrepreneur for just about a decade when my daughter was born. Due to some personal health concerns after she was born and complete burnout, my body was screaming at me to take a break. So, when she was just 9 months old… I let my entire team go, stepped away from daily posting on social media, and essentially shut my business down to take a sabbatical. A sabbatical I’m still on 10 months later.

To say shutting the business down and having my worth, purpose, and revenue all essentially shattered at the same time I became a first time mom… well, it’s been one hell of a transition for me.

It’s been disorienting in a way that’s hard to describe to someone who hasn’t felt it. Like reaching for a shelf that’s always been there and finding air.

THE REALITY OF AGE

This has nothing to do with so and so in Hollywood who had a kid at 49. This is just math… math I never let myself think about when I was 25 or 32 or even 37.

My husband and I will likely have less time on this earth with our daughter. It’s just the fact. Had we had her 5, 10, or 15 years ago… we’re most likely have more years with her. As for her grandparents… she already only has two living grandparents. And those two will also likely have less time with her. Honestly, I had never thought about any of this until she was already here.

My husband and I both are in great shape and we take care of ourselves and our health. But, I’ve absolutely wondered… Will I have the energy to keep up with her at 10? At 16? Will I be the tired mom at school pickup? Will I get to meet my grandchildren?

I’m not trying to be morbid with these thoughts, they’re just real thoughts that have crossed my mind in recent times. And I wish someone had given me space to think them before we considered “trying” or not.

THE BODY KEEPS SCORE

Having a baby at 40, after years of adrenal fatigue, hormonal chaos, and a complicated relationship with food and my body is a completely different physical experience than having one at 26 or 33.

I’m not too old to be fit or healthy. But recovery is different. Energy is different. Hormones are already in flux. My body holds stress differently than it did a decade ago. TBH I’m likely in a state of perimenopause (which is wild to say out loud).

Breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, postpartum anxiety, running a multimillion dollar company with an already depleted system… well, I wasn’t prepared for that.

My body had been keeping score for years before she arrived.
Having her just made the tally visible and impossible to ignore.

I’m rebuilding slowly. With more grace than I ever gave my body before. And I think that might be the most unexpected gift of doing this later; I’ve finally stopped fighting it

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BUT IT’S NOT ALL HARD.
Waiting gave me things I didn’t expect either…

EMOTIONALLY EQUIPPED

There’s no denying that I arrived at motherhood with a stronger emotional intelligence at 40 than I had in my 20s or 30s.

The therapy. The self-work. The hard years… the eating disorder recovery, the pregnancy losses, the burnout, the long reckoning with who I was and what I actually wanted.

I went into motherhood knowing myself in a way I simply couldn’t have at 25.

While motherhood has changed me in ways I’m still discovering (let’s be honest… it' cracked me wide open LOL)… I at least went into it with a stronger foundation. A sense of my own values. An ability to regulate, to repair, to ask for help.

Sure, I’m grateful for myself that I have the tools… but, I’m even more grateful for how I show up for her. What she sees. What she’s learning. And what I get to pass down.

FINANCIALLY GROUNDED

Years of paychecks, savings, investment properties, retirement accounts. A decade of entrepreneurship that taught us how to build and protect financial security.

I don’t say this to be dismissive of the very real financial pressures of parenting; I know not everyone has this. This is not look at me but rather, I’m so grateful for…

Having built something before she arrived means that the texture of early motherhood is different for us. The anxiety that would have been present at 28 isn’t there in the same way.

We are more financially set up in our 40s than we were in our 20s or 30s.

LONGEVITY

Research actually shows that older mothers tend to live longer. Because your brain and body have an external reason to keep going that is stronger than almost anything else.

My daughter has given my life a new horizon.
Something bigger than me that is worth staying for, staying healthy for, staying present for.

The fact is I’m approaching mid-life and so many tend to just let themselves go, they give in, they age faster and faster…

But, I truly believe that having her older will keep my husband and I younger. And no, not just in the pop culture way. Physically and mentally sharper!

EXPERIENCE & WISDOM

It goes without saying that at 40, I simply have more lived experience, lessons, and wisdom to pass down to her.

I know who I am. I know what truly matters. I’m not trying to prove anything through her. I’m not parenting from a place of unresolved identity or unmet ambition. I did that work… painfully, slowly, in therapy and in journals and in quiet moments throughout years of challenges and growth.

I just want to watch and support her in becoming whoever she already is.

The best thing I gave her was a mother who already knows and loves herself.

OF COURSE, SHE WAS ALWAYS WORTH THE WAIT

I don’t know if waiting was the “right” choice or the “best” choice. But, it’s the choice we made and at the time… it was what we wanted, what was true for us, and what felt aligned.

I don’t know if the losses were random or if they were the Universe taking its time to give us exactly her.

TBH we just experienced another loss in the Fall (after my daughter had just turned a year old)… it’s impossible not to blame my age being the reason.

But after going through our experience having her, I trust that the timing is perfect and if it’s meant for us… another baby is waiting to be brought Earthside with our family.

The timeline is frustrating at times.
I occasionally feel my age.
We’ve absolutely beat ourselves up for waiting.

And yet when I look at her, all I see is the person I get to spend the rest of my life knowing.

The timing of it all is perfect for our story. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If any part of this was your story too… the waiting, the grief, the out-of-sync feelings, the unexpected gifts… I’d love to hear from you in the comments. And if you found this through someone who shared it: welcome! Come follow along as I figure out this next chapter out loud.

If you loved this, I’d love you to join me on my journey of rebuilding… on my brand new IG account

What does it mean to expand your capacity? And more importantly… how do you do it?

By definition capacity refers to the maximum, sustainable amount of work, emotional energy, or physical output an individual or organization can produce without burnout.

It’s your available bandwidth, your nervous system’s tolerance, your ability to stay regulated while holding more responsibility, more emotion, and more overall life.

AKA how much can you handle before breaking. And it’s finite… both daily and long-term.

So in order to do more, hold more, earn more, lead more, love more, and be more… we need to expand. Your capacity needs to grow.

It’s not about more hustle or more hours. It’s about your container and expanding it.

Expand ourselves. Our mind. Our time. Our resources. Our emotional intelligence and range. And our ability to stay grounded when things feel full.

Bigger tank energy

There’s a common metaphor that a shark only will grow to the size of the tank you put it in… whether that’s scientifically accurate or not, the visual makes sense.

We too grow in proportion to the container we’re given and same with plants. If the roots hit the edges, growth stalls. Not because the plant can’t grow anymore, but because the container is too small.

So, which comes first, the chicken or the egg?

Do you wait to see growth before repotting?
Or do you repot before the growth shows up?

You upgrade the container before the evidence appears.

Expansion doesn’t follow growth. Growth follows expansion.

My take: it’s time to repot love… yes, even if you don’t see the growth yet.

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The part no one talks about

Here’s the part we tend to skip. Making the container bigger is uncomfortable.

This actually reminds me of a story I once heard about a little glass vase. Thanks to 1991’s Beauty and the Beast, I’m going to call the vase Chip. (Yes, I know Chip was a teacup… but just stay with me here.)

Chip desperately wanted to be a bigger vase. He saw all the other bigger vases and yearned for their capacity. So he went to the glass blower and asked if it was possible.

The glass blower said, “Of course we can make you bigger.”

Chip lit up with excitement, “You can?!”

“Yes,” the glass blower replied. “But first… I have to put you back into the fire.”

The fire is the point

The glass blower explained:

“I have to heat you up just enough until the glass softens. Only then can I stretch you… reshape you… form you into something larger and expand your capacity to hold more. “

It didn’t sound pleasant but he could rationally understand that the discomfort would only be temporary… and the expansion would last, so he agreed.

This is how capacity grows

So, for us… when we want to grow our capacity, when we want to hold more responsibility, more leadership, more emotion… when we want to be gifted with more money, more children, more opportunities… more life…

We can’t get there through ease. We do it through friction and stretching. Through the moments (let’s face it, seasons) that feel hot, tight, constrained, and unfamiliar.

Friction builds capacity.
Resilience builds capacity.

Here’s the part that most people miss (I’m a person, I’ve missed it too at times):

The easy choices you make in your life today will only make your future harder.

Easy choices like avoidance, numbing, staying comfortable, not starting, quitting, doom scrolling instead of taking action… easy now, hard later.

But, when you choose the harder, more uncomfortable path now, when you’re willing to step into the fire… your future will get easier.

Your nervous system will adapt and youR container will grow. Suddenly, the stuff that once felt overwhelming will just feel normal. The stuff that used to rattle you will roll off your shoulders.

That’s capacity.

Capacity is a nervous system game

Over the years I’ve gone deep into nervous system science… happiness, dopamine, rewiring, Neuroplasticity… And here’s what I’ve learned:

That said, when we talk about “capacity”, what we’re really talking about is window of tolerance.

The term comes from neuroscience (my fav) and trauma psychology. It refers to the zone in which your nervous system can stay regulated while experiencing stress.

Inside your window you can:

• Think clearly

• Feel emotion without drawing in it

• Respond instead of react

• Handle discomfort without shutting down

Outside your window, you go into survival.

Sympathetic activation (fight/flight): Anxiety, overwhelm, irritability, urgency, control
Or Dorsal shut down (freeze): Numbness, procrastination, disassociation, “I don’t care”, exhaustion

Most people think they just need more discipline or someone to hold them accountable. When what they actually need is a wider window.

Your window of tolerance expands through repeated, regulated exposure to stress, not in the avoidance of it.

This is basic Neuroplasticity (ugh i could talk about this stuff all day). Your brain learns safety through experience (and repetition). I’m currently deep into all of this right now as I have a 17 month old at home whom I’m trying to teach and model these exact things to.

If you avoid every uncomfortable thing, your nervous system labels discomfort as danger. And sure, some things are dangerous. Hanging off a 40-story building is both uncomfortable and unsafe. But in many scenarios we face daily like public speaking, posting a reel, even having an uncomfortable conversion with yoru spouse… they may feel uncomfortable, but they’re not dangerous.

If you stay in discomfort and regulate through it, your nervous system attunes.

“Oh, we survived that. We can handle this.” and therefore you start also believing, “Maybe we can handle even more”.

That’s capacity expansion in real time. You’re becoming more adaptable and able to hold more!

Tactically… how do you actually expand it?

Here are 5 things we know will grow capacity:

1. Stay in discomfort 10% longer than you want

Not forever, just longer than your default exit point… right when things get hard or become “less fun” or require dedication over inspiration

It’s the moment you:

• reach for your phone

• snap at your partner

• close the laptop

• say “never mind”

• pull our offer

• walk away from the conversation

The impulse is your stress ceiling. Capacity expands when you pause at the ceiling instead of immediately exciting. And when practiced enough, the ceiling will one day become your new floor.

Next time, I encourage you to stay in the hard conversation 2 minutes longer, post the vulnerable share and don’t delete it, let someone misunderstand you without over-explaining yourself, stand on line alone and don’t pull your phone out.

That 10% stretch is how the window widens.

2. Increase exposure gradually (nervous system conditioning)

This is often where people mess up. They go from “I’ve never been visible” to “let me host a 5-day live launch to 10,000 people.” For many, that can be a nervous system shock.

Exposure works like strength training. You don’t just show up and deadlift 300 pounds on day one. You practice progressive overload. Meaning, you continuously add weight and or repetition week over week.

Same goes for emotional and psychological capacity. It’s small and often slow.

You start with some IG stories then a carousel then a reel then go live for 3 minutes then host a live workshop.

The key here is that your nervous system needs proof of safety at each level before it upgrades.

3. Regulate rather than retreat

This is the most important one. When stress and discomfort hit, our nervous systems years for familiar, comfort, and relief. This often looks like: scrolling, snacking, overworking, over-talking, shutting down, avoiding…

But, true regulation is different. It’s your bodies ability to move from “I feel activated” to “Let me stabilize”. Some of the quickest and easiest ways to do this are:

• A few slow, deep breathes

• Sunlight

• A walk

• Cold water on your face

• Grounding your feet on the earth (barefoot)

• Naming what you feel, out loud

• Dancing, shaking, moving

Don’t numb out or quit. Don’t try or pretend to be unbothered.

We don’t grow by being unbothered.
We grow by being bothered and regulating through it.

4. Tell your nervous system the truth

First and foremost, it’s 100% ok to talk to yourself… especially out loud. In fact in these disorienting times, I think it’s crucial that we do. Express to yourself exactly what you’re feeling, without judgement and/or explanation.

• “This feels scary, it’s not dangerous.”

• “I am stretched, not unsafe.”

• “This is just new, not life-threatening.”

Your brain will update through the repetition and language. This is way talking work is, exposure therapy works, and visualization works. You’re training your biology.

5. Stop trying to skip the fire

You can’t bypass what is required of you to actually grow. Just like you can’t stretch cold glass. In fact, if you tried to… you’d either get nowhere or you’d break the glass. Neither scenario gets you to the goal.

Allow yourself a little heat to become malleable. Think of it as the “warm up” before the big race.

Stress + regulation = growth
Stress + avoidance = fragility

You don’t become someone who can hold more by wanting more. You become that person by surviving the stretch.

The goal isn’t to avoid the fire. The goal is trust that you won’t shatter in the fire. Because, you won’t!

You’ll soften. You’ll reshape. You’ll expand. And one day, you’ll look back at a version of you who thought you couldn’t handle this life… and you’ll smile.

Because now, in this moment…
Fire isn’t you breaking, it’s evidence that you’re being expanded.

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If this resonated, share with someone you know is feeling like their fighting their way through the fire right now. I sure as hell am writing from this from some flames…

⬇️ Here’s a clip from my last glass blowing session.
If you’ve never tried, I 10/10 recommend!
Jess

There’s a sentence I’ve said for years. Kinda casually, like a throwaway line. I’d repeat it without realizing how much weight it would carry one day. Spoiler alert: now is the one day.

“The more I learn, the less I know.”

For the longest time, I meant it in the practical sense. I’d use it in the context of business. I was referring to how industries evolve and how mastery suddenly makes you aware of how much you haven’t mastered yet. How growth exposes new layers.

Looking back now, the sentence I was tossing around lived more on the surface. It was external, strategic, and more intellectual. But lately? The sentence has been unfolding somewhere much quieter inside me.

It’s no longer just: The more I learn, the less I know.
It’s this: The more I learn, the less I know about myself.

And that realization has been… unsettling.

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When knowledge starts crowding you

It started with content, of all things…

When I started creating content 12 years ago (heck even just 6 years ago) it felt simpler. You’d finish a workout, take a sweaty selfie, throw on a Valencia filter, write something motivational (and slightly cringe) #sweatyselfie, hit post, and go live your life. IYKYK

There was no mental spiral attached to it, for me at least. There was no invisible checklist, no rules to follow, and no algorithmic best practices. I created purely from desire, inspiration, and instinct… because that’s all I had.

Then, the industry evolved.
When I say industry, I’m referring to social media marketing & online coaching spaces.

We learned about hooks and retention. Calls to action. Pattern interrupts. Getting and keeping shorter attention spans. Story arcs. We studied psychology, engagement, and algorithms. We locked in on conversion strategies, hell… we implemented entire conversion events. We learned what performs and most importantly, why it performs.

And the more sophisticated my understanding became… the harder it became to create anything at all.

Now when I sit down to post, there’s a quiet (and often paralyzing) audit running in the background.

• Is the hook strong enough?

• Is the caption structured properly? Too long? Too short?

• Does this look too similar to someone else’s?

• Should I have used a trending audio?
  

Knowledge, instead of liberating me, started crowding me.

Perfectionism slipped in, disguised as professionalism.

But underneath? It’s been fear.
Fear of doing it “wrong”, now that I know what “right” looks like.
There’s been a heavy hesitation as my awareness for how things could “fall short”.

TBH, I’m even experiencing that now with starting this new Substack. This Substack was… is supposed to be for me. Not just about me, but for me. For me to get back into writing (the place my online biz started with in 2012 when I was blogging). For me to start dabbling in content creation, expressing myself, and teaching all (all things that make me tick, but have been dimmed since stepping back from my biz to go on sabbatical over 6 months ago).

And yet, even here, I feel the urge to optimize it.

That said, I’m recognizing that this isn’t just about content.

When insights start replacing instinct

Therapy has a funny way of exposing your own metaphors and how you view the word. What I wrestle with in business… is most often what I’m wrestling with internally as well.

Hence why another sentence I’ve said for the last decade has been “Your business will only grow to the extent that you do… entrepreneurship is a rocket ship to personal development”.

Here is the space where my inner and outer worlds cloud. I started noticing that the more I was learning, in general… through books, podcasts, experts, frameworks… the less certain I felt about myself.

Not because learning is inherently bad, but because I was (have been for decades) collecting so many perspectives that my own voice… my own self trust was getting buried underneath them.

You start curating other people’s wisdom like a Pinterest board. You highlight it, save it, try it on, apply it, even just ogle over it… romanticizing their way, their perspective, their life, their wisdom. Their beliefs around success, relationships, painting, identity… you slowly begin outsourcing your knowing.

For me, I started focusing more on:

• What’s the right way?

Instead of:

• What’s right for me? What’s true for me?
  

While I’m a huge advocate for learning and being a lifelong student.
Learning, for all its brilliance, has also disconnected me from my Self.

Motherhood rearranged everything

Motherhood has sharpened this awareness in a way nothing else could. Or maybe, I just couldn’t hear it before?!

You can read every parenting book, study every developmental framework, listen to every expert… hell in my case, literally have a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education and then boom!

Your child arrives and your lived experience will rewire everything you know and/or learn. It’s shifted everything I thought I once understood… and not just about kids or parenting, about everything.

Before becoming a parent, I thought I understood responsibility. I ran a multiple 7-figure business. I paid people’s salaries. I had thousands of clients across the globe and over a dozen team members. I carried the weight of outcomes that affected other people’s lives. And TBH, that felt really heavy at times. But this is a different type of weight.

This weight, this type of heaviness… it rewires your brain and your nervous system. Decisions aren’t theoretical anymore. They’re not just for me or my team or our livelihood. Everything is being filtered through a different lens.

Time feels finite. Energy feels far more sacred. And what matters most reorganizes itself without even asking permission first… The f’ing nerve.

What fell away

Interestingly, those shifts have dissolved certain fears and insecurities that I used to carry.

✔️ I don’t obsessed about doing things the “right” way like I once did.
✔️ I don’t make myself sick over time like I used to.
✔️ Perfection doesn’t grip me the way it once did.

And as those things have drifted into the abyss, something else has intensified for me. My discernment.

Because now, if I’m going to consciously be trading time (creating, working, even spending time with friends)... it has to pass a different test.
It’s no longer about metrics, conversion, or performance. It’s no longer about opportunities, networking, and “sure why not”.

It’s about being in full alignment. Is this a 15 out of 10? What I say “yes” to now has to feel like a full body “hell yeah”. The test is literally…

“If it’s not a hell yeah, then it’s a hell no, and there’s really no in between.”

Because at the end of the day, what I’m trading for that time is time with my daughter. And that exchange has to feel worth it in my bones. I’m not willing to step away from her for something that feels like a 6. Or an 8. Or even a 10.

This sentence means something different now

When I say: The more I learn, the less I know. I don’t mean that I’m confused, I’m just more aware.

Thankfully, I’m more aware now of how easy it is to drift from yourself. How easy it is to confuse information with lived experience and inner wisdom. How easy it is to mistake someone else’s clarity as your own.

Knowledge, true applied knowledge can expand your awareness. But, it also demands a level of discernment.

Wisdom isn’t the accumulation of ideas. It’s the ability to hear your own voice and intuition clear enough to trust yourself in a room full of noise.

One of the greatest gifts motherhood has already gifted me in just 17 short months (aside from my daughter, of course) is to slowly and intentionally return to me…

To the me I was before I learned to doubt what I already know.

Motherhood didn’t make me less ambitious

Motherhood didn’t make me less ambitious, it made me more intentional and discerning. More protective of where my energy goes. More honest about what actually matters. And in that process, success has quietly redefined itself. That is a blessing I didn’t know I was asking for.

This new, different type of ambition is uncomfortable. It’s a speed and volume I’m not used to. As for the new and different definition of success… that’s equally as uncomfortable for me right now. The new is challenging my old beliefs, patterns, and habits. A no matter your age, that’s tough to undo. So, stay with me while I re-write and dissect how it all fits in my current and future life.

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure… there’s no “going back” to who I was before. And while there’s a grief and sadness that comes along with that, there’s an equal amount of excitement and limitless possibilities!

Because the truth is:

The more I learn, the more I have to fight to remember who I am.

And maybe that’s not failure of growth but rather the beginning of remembering.

If this felt like it was written from inside your own head, I’d love you to stick around as I continue to write what I’m learning.

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The whisper came softly like a breeze through the trees in the Spring… a million years ago. Okay, not a million. But in lifetimes? It certainly feels close.

If I really sit with it, the first moment I knew it was possible was around 2010, when I was an elementary school teacher. But the dream itself began decades earlier…

I was lounging in my denim bean bag chair… the fancy one with the side pocket perfectly sized for my YM and dELiA*s magazines. It lived in the corner of my room, carefully positioned so none of the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling could lose their stick and fall on me.

TLC’s waterfalls was playing quietly on my brand new Aiwa 3-disc changer I had just gotten for my 11th birthday, and I was reading. Ahhh… the 90s.

My nose was deep into The Babysitters Club book. Book ten? Twenty? Thirty? Honestly, who knows. I’m pretty certain it was the one where Stacey quits the club, right as Kristy fires her (iconic).

I was loving the series so much, the girls in the club had become my besties, and drifting off into their land of adventures, jokes, and drama somehow felt like home.

Despite having a wonderful childhood and truly nothing to escape from… it was just a yearning, something I wanted to run to.

The year was 1995 and the truth… those books had me fall in love with reading and the magic it could provide. That’s when it first hit me.

One day, I will write a children’s book series.
One day, I will create a space that kids want to escape to.
One day, I will create a space that kids will want to run towards.
One day, I will create a series that has kids falling in love with reading.

The Seed Was Planted

I was 11, so of course I didn’t have a real plan or business idea. I didn’t know what the path would look like, nor did I feel it was my truest calling (like I needed a college degree in writing). But, the seed was planted.

I didn’t have a plan, I had a knowing.

Fast forward thirty one years, and the number of times that dream resurfaced is astronomical.

Watching It Happen For Everyone Else

I began working as an elementary school teacher in 2009, just 2 years after Jeff Kinneys, Diary of Wimp Kid series exploded onto the scene and took over every classroom in America. For eight years I watched my students become obsessed with the world and characters he created.

For eight years I watched my students fall in love with reading.

And for eight years I imagined myself on the other side of the page… one day.

Through ten-plus years of coaching kids gymnastics, working as a camp counselor, even during my seasons working in the fashion industry… through all my identities, careers, and paths… the ideas would come, the visions would flicker. But, nothing ever stuck long enough for me to begin.

Until One Day It Was Clear

Until August 8, 2021. The day we rescued our dog, Montana.

If you don’t know the story… My husband Mike and I left NYC the summer of 2020. We put all our stuff in storage, bought a 40 ft motorhome and spent fourteen months living and working full-time on the road while traveling the country.

Montana fell into our laps during month eleven of our journey. For the three months he lived in the RV with us, he lived the kind of life most dogs… heck he did stuff with us that many people never get to experience.

National Parks. Trails. Campgrounds. Adventures. Hiking. Rivers. Lakes. New terrain every week. He saw more of the country in the first four weeks than many people see in a lifetime.

And suddenly, it was crystal clear. As clear as the reflection staring back at us from Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park.

He was my muse.

Why It Still Didn’t Happen

The stories began to write themselves. Entire scenes played out in my head. During meditations, characters would drop in. Adventures unfolded.

Over the last 5 years, I’ve told a few select friends about my ideas. Yet… I never put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard for that matter).

The years passed. I’d start, get excited, life would happen, and then I’d stop. Which, if you knew me at all… you’d know that it’s very out of character for me to not finish a project.

The dream never disappeared.
I just kept putting louder things first.

In 2022, I even signed up for a children’s book author course, thinking it was the perfect time. Right after, I had an emergency ectopic pregnancy, surgery, and emotional fallout that took me completely out of creativity. I went straight into survival. Focused on what I knew.

Work. Scaling the business. Growing my team. Pouring every ounce of myself and my creativity into my business. Which wasn’t a bad problem, we certainly reaped the benefits of it. But, if I’m being honest the dream (without action) has always haunted me.

It randomly pops up and reminds me that it still lives inside of me. Trying to get my attention over and over, but I’ve continuously pushed it aside. After-all, it was kind of a “crazy stupid idea” anyway. FTR, that’s how I always reference, big, scary, audacious, seemingly impossible dreams.

Until recently…

My Body Called… Time

Seventeen months ago, I became a mother. And despite what I knew I “should do’ or what I’d encourage other new moms to do (now), I didn’t take a real maternity leave. I kept plugging away.

New mom.
No sleep.
Traumatic birth.
Clients.
Calls.
Displaced from our home for a month after a devastating hurricane.
Meetings.
Still no sleep.
Hosted a 3-day client retreat while 10 weeks postpartum.
More. More. More.
I even ran our annual live event for thousands, just six months postpartum, while solo parenting as my husband spent time with his father in his last weeks of life.

Looking back, it’s clear to me now that I needed a break. But in the moment, I just kept pushing and…

Whether I wanted to or not, whether it was the plan or not, my body was screaming at me to stop.

Six months ago, I made the hardest decision of my career. I stepped back. I let my team go (100% the hardest part), stopped working with clients, turned off all automations, halted podcast recording, left social media, and put myself on sabbatical.

*** Side note: These are all things I’m planning to write about in depth in the future.

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And Then The Fire Came Back

It was time to be present with my daughter. Time to rest. A “power pause” as author Neha Ruch calls it. I needed to reassess what I actually wanted to build next and where I wanted to put my energy.

It’s been gnarly, ugly, confronting, painful at times and equally… beautiful, peaceful, playful, and truly the most unexpected gift I didn’t know I needed.

I could have put money on the fact that I’d come up with new ideas (I’m a visionary through and through). I knew that I’d want to start dabbling in some old hobbies that had been pushed to the back burner for so long because the business always took first priority.

But, silly me… what I didn’t expect was the unannounced fire in my belly. It seemed to just appear one day, with no warning signs. Almost like I woke up encapsulated by flames.

After a lifetime of dreaming about these books, I sit here now typing… Montana’s head on my lap, my daughter asleep in her crib, and it’s unmistakable.

It’s now.

Proof I Had Forgot

Here is a picture from a journal entry I wrote in February 2021… 5 years ago… 6 months before we even had a dog… 3 years before we moved into this home… the home with giant windows, overlooking the mountains, where just last week we were blanketed in 8 inches of snow.

“… snuggled on the couch, under a warm fuzzy blanket with our new puppy laying beside me. The fireplace is going & outside our giant windows, I’m watching the snow falling over the mountains… I grab my laptop & begin to write my children’s book series.”

This is just one excerpt from a journal entry. I say one because I’ve actually written versions of this multiple times. Always with a dog, mountains, big windows, fireplace, snow, and writing my children’s book... I wrote that half a dozen times, but we never lived near mountains, it’s been years since we lived in a place with snow, and well; we didn’t even have a dog yet.

It would typically happen during journaling sessions or exercises after meditation/breath work. The fact that I’m sitting in this “future self” journal entry right now is NOT even the crazy part. Sure, I could have manifested it. Sure, my daily habits and life decisions could have brought me here. Sure, that’s all absolutely true.

But, the part that’s really crazy is this…

I hate the cold with every fiber of my being. Anytime I wrote those entries, just allowed myself to pour from the heart or replicate the vision from my meditation… they never made sense. There was no way that there would be a version of me sitting in a mountain home with snow. So, I used to chalk it up to… maybe we’re on vacation or maybe I rented an airbnb for solo time where I could write.

Here I sit, in this house… pretty much a replication of visions I had 9, 5, 3 years ago and if I’m being honest, while I have immense gratitude for this home… Mike and I don’t actually enjoy living here. We’ve been here 2 years and much of the time, we’ve talked about when and where we’ll move next.

The vision always made sense…

Even though the details haven’t.

Call it kismet, call it the Universe, call it a sign… but, when the fire ignited in my belly to start writing, I couldn’t help but wink back at the Universe that this truly was the perfect timing in the perfect spot.

No Strategy. Just Soul.

Ok, back to what I was saying. As I write this piece for Substack, I’m also simultaneously writing chapters of the first book in the series. Seven chapters in to book one, and I’m obsessed with the process (so far).

Let’s be honest though… I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never written a children’s book, let alone a series. I’ve never published a book. I’ve never tried marketing or selling a book.

▪️ Do I share the process with you along the way?
▪️ Do I just come out and hard launch when it’s done?
▪️ Which option feels truest and most aligned for me? Which excites me?

I’ve been lucky enough to be behind the scenes on enough of my entrepreneurial friends writing their books to know some stuff…

… launch parties
… street teams
… self publishing
… agent to publisher path

I know just enough about the industry to know how loud the noise can get… and for now, I’m choosing NOT to listen.

My rules are simple:

• Write the book.

• If it stops being fun or lighting me up, I get to stop.
  

And yes, I’m aware things will get tough, complicated, and momentarily frustrating. Of course I’m willing to work through those hard times, but if it’s not fun on a soul level… I’m out. Not because I’m a quitter, but because I’m not will to live in misalignment or force “just because” again.

✔️ Do I think this book/series can be wildly successful? Hell yeah.
✔️ Can I see a line of stuffed animals and outfits & accessories you can buy? 100%
✔️ Is it possible that Pixar will buy the rights for a movie in 5-10 years? Absolutely.

But, am I attached and connected to all of that in an unhealthy way?
Not at all. I’m detached in the healthiest way.

I am simply the vehicle to bring these ideas and stories to life… one page at a time.

In the muddy waters of marketing and social media, this could feel like an announcement… like a launch of sorts.

But I assure you, it’s not. This is a permission slip. For you. For me. For us.

I don’t know how this story ends. But I know how it starts. It starts here with me listening to the whisper… the burning fire in my belly.

It’s time we both choose the thing we’ve been quietly carrying… before it asks to be useful, profitable, performative, or impressive for others.

Do it while it’s still yours.

I’m writing mine.

Maybe you’re allowed to start yours, too.

Leave a comment if you want me to share pieces of the process as I go.

Love from my couch, overlooking the Asheville mountains, through my big windows, with Montana’s head on my lap, and some melted snow,
Jess

Read Time: 4 minutes

You don’t really know you’ve changed until something familiar happens… and your body responds differently.

I’ve been on a work and social media sabbatical since May.
Today (1/28/26 - the day I wrote this), I emailed my list for the first time in months.

The response was beautiful.
Thoughtful emails, DMs, even real text messages from people I haven’t heard from in years.

And also… a noticeable number of unsubscribes.

Change reveals itself not in what happens…
but in how your nervous system responds when it does.

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A few years ago this would have meant something

Fourteen years ago, it would’ve rattled me.
I would’ve replayed the email in my head… wondering what I said wrong.
Softened my edges and adjusted the tone for the next time.

A few years ago, I would’ve told myself I didn’t care…
while secretly caring a lot.

But today, something was different. I noticed it.
And I didn’t make it [the unsubscribes] mean anything about me.

This wasn’t detachment, it was trust

I used to say I could do that, and honestly… I think there was times that I could.
Heck, I used to teach my clients to do it.

Practice detachment.
Stay neutral.
Don’t take it personally.

But this time, it felt new.

Nothing rehearsed or managed and nothing I needed to talk myself through.

Just like I’ve practiced in meditations for the last 20 years… it was like a wave passing through me… I noticed it and my nervous system didn’t brace for impact.

Neutrality isn’t numbness, it’s the absence of self-abandonment.

When “being good at this” meant keeping people

For most of my career, being “good at this” meant learning how to “keep” people.

How to anticipate reactions, read the room before the room spoke, and adjust in the slightest to stay palatable.

Looking back now I can see that I was operating like a dimmer switch… never fully off and never fully bright.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that alignment isn’t about being followed forever.

Alignment is seasonal, not permanent

It’s about being met honestly in the season that you’re in.

Not everyone is meant to walk with you into every chapter.
Some people were perfect for who you were, and that doesn’t diminish what was real.

It just means the story is moving.

Like outgrowing a room you once loved… not because it failed you, but simply because you’re standing taller now.

Not everyone who finds you is meant to stay with you.

The kind of growth no one claps for

There’s a quiet kind of growth that doesn’t come with applause.

It comes with neutrality.
With spaciousness.
With the ability to let something pass through you without…
… tightening.
… reaching.
… explaining.

Today wasn’t about gain or loss.

It was about self trust.

Trust without performance

Trusting myself enough to speak from where I actually am.
Trusting others enough to choose what’s right for them.
And trusting that neither requires explanation.

And to me, that feels like progress.

Despite the fact that I’m writing this, this is the type of progress you don’t need to announce, justify, or optimize. This is the type of progress you notice when something that used to hook you, simply doesn’t anymore.

Growth doesn’t always announce itself.
Sometimes it just stops asking to be approved.

Here’s something you can try

The next time something familiar happens that would typically “hook” you like:
▪️ an unsubscribe
▪️ a ghosting
▪️ a client complaint
▪️ a team member quitting
really anything that could possibly derail you from your day or business… pause before interpreting it.

Put one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Ask yourself:

Is my body tightening, my mind spiraling, and my nervous system fried…
… or is my body open, mind showing awareness, and nervous system awake?

If it’s tightening, don’t try to fix or change anything. Simply notice the feelings.
If it’s open, just let that be the data you store.

Growth doesn’t always require metrics, nor does it have to be loud.
Sometimes it just feels like nothing emergent needing to be managed.

Love from the in between,
Jess

Read Time: 6 minutes

I really don’t think I’m the only one who feels this… so, let’s talk about it.

You put out a piece of content and an old friend, colleague, or past client subscribes to your publication or “follows”. Amazing!

The feeling of being supported immediately bubbles up and you are suddenly swimming in gratitude. You can’t believe they went out of their way. They liked, commented, even subscribed. What more could you ask for? Aside from them just reading your work and getting value from it (and changing their own life/perspective).

And Now, The Part We Don’t Talk About

Within seconds of you noticing their “subscribe” or “follow”, your anxiety creeps in.

The pressure to subscribe/follow them back.

Not necessarily because you want to consume their content, but because you know them. There’s a history. There’s a relationship (albeit big or small).

There’s a pesky, nagging feeling… like it’s the “right” thing to do.

The Law of Reciprocity

The Law of Reciprocity is a social psychology principle that says humans feel obligated to return favors, gifts, or kindness. One good turn deserves another. It’s deeply ingrained, often subconscious, and frequently leveraged in marketing, sales, and influence.

I’m a big believer in Universal Laws. I’ve studied them and even taught them for years. That said, I also believe there’s a subtle, yet important difference between genuine support and obligation.

And most of the confusion lives in the gray area between the two.

In this scenario (subscribing/following), support can look like a lot of things.

You can like and comment thoughtfully.
You can re-share someone’s work.
You can shout them out.
You can send a personal message and say thank you.
You can refer them.
You can buy their product.

Support comes in many shapes and sizes.

Obligation on the other hand is well… I mean we all know what that feels like.

It’s the “because I should” or I “have to”.
The “because it would be weird not to.”
The “because I don’t want them to think something…”

And energetically, it doesn’t land the same. People can feel the difference.

Support feels expansive.

Obligation feels heavy.

I understand the power of subscribers and followers. I know how momentum, numbers, and visibility can impact opportunity.

I genuinely want to support people when and where I can.

But for my own sanity and for boundaries I’ve spent the last nine months intentionally rebuilding… I can’t say yes to everything. That includes subscribing to or following content that I’m not actually interested in.

It’s not personal. It’s simply MY job to take ownership over my own algorithm. I’m responsible for curating what I consume.

The part that still feels fuzzy is this: I don’t want anyone to take it personally.

I know, intellectually, that’s not mine to manage. I know that’s someone else’s story, trigger, or healing work. And yet still… I never want to be on the other side of that.

Content, Analytics, and Social Media Ruled My Inner World for Far Too Long.

Which is likely why this all feels a bit too tender for me.

While I may have mastered the art of online business and social media marketing; it too mastered me… allowing metrics to become my master.

Not always in obvious ways, but in how I felt about myself. How I measured my success. How I interpreted silence. Even when I thought I was “detached”, I wasn’t.

Even though I spent 14 years in the online coaching & social media marketing space, I never really noticed it happening to myself… and even when I was teaching others how to not let it become their master… it had me under a spell for years.

And yeah sure, you could argue that it was a productive spell. It helped me build a multi 7-figure business with global impact. But, my relationship to it all (specifically IG) was toxic.

Over the last few years in the space (and more recently on sabbatical the last 9 months), I’ve become both hyperaware and deeply jaded. I can spot performative support instantly. I can see when tagging or sharing was strategic instead of sincere. I can smell a money grab a mile away.

So, when I notice the subscribe-for-subscribe tension now… it touches that same raw place. It’s all too familiar. Too tender. Still healing.

Which Brings Me to the Questions I’m Sitting With:

• Will they truly be hurt if you don’t reciprocate?

• Is that yours to carry?

• Does Substack have an unspoken etiquette the way IG did for so long (#followforfollow)?

• What happens if we don’t “follow” that etiquette? Will the algorithm slap us on the wrist?

• Can we decouple support from obligation and still be generous humans?

As I’m writing this, I’m so curious…

Are YOU judging me (it’s ok if you are)?
Do YOU actually feel the same way?
Dave YOU ever even thought about it?

Be honest. My guess, we’re all not as alone in our thoughts as we think we are.

If you’ve read this far, you already know and can clearly see that I don’t have the solution. I am not offering the rules or answers.

If I’m being really honest, this isn’t just about Substack or subscribers or followers or Instagram.

It’s about my lifelong people-pleasing tendencies. It’s about putting other people’s oxygen mask on first before my own for so long, that it cost me. About no longer putting my needs on the back burner or questioning my self-trust because of “rules” or “Universal laws” or “what everyone else is doing”.

When Support Became Performance

For the longest time (majority of my 41 years), being “supportive” for me also equalled being liked. And in my business… I always took a very vanilla approach. I’m talking creamy, rich, thick white vanilla; the most neutral, ruffle no feathers, please everyone vanilla.

Being agreeable.
Being easy.
Being generous despite my own needs.
Over-giving. Oversharing.
ALWAYS in integrity for others, but not always in integrity for myself.

And to be honest, social media rewarded those behaviors. Often with money, always with approval, significance, access, and a sense of not just belonging… but purpose and worth.

Stepping back now, I can feel how deeply that conditioning still lives in my body. How many nervous systems still defaults to old ways of doing despite what I may actually be thinking^..

Where I’m Landing Now

So here, today… I guess I’m simply naming something that I’ve noticed and sitting with it. Maybe it is actually an accidental “hot take”.

I don’t think we have to subscribe or follow just to show support or just to live by the Universal Law. For me, it’s deeper. And I’ll continue to reciprocate in other ways.

As for you… Here are some questions you can sit with and journal on:

• Where do I feel pressure to perform support?

• What does genuine support feel like in my body?

• Where have I confused politeness with people-pleasing?

• What would it look like to trust that interest doesn’t have to be mutual to be respectful?

I’m choosing interest and personal boundaries over obligation.
I’m trusting that my support doesn’t need to be transactional or look traditional.
I’m practicing letting that be enough, even when it feels uncomfortable.

If that disappoints someone, I’m practicing letting that be okay… which is also uncomfortable. And maybe that is the real work.

And if this message brings relief to someone else, even better.

My rules.
No guilt.
No more abandoning myself.

If this resonated, feel free to leave a comment or vote in the poll. I’m genuinely curious how others experience this.

With love from the in between,
Jess

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For years, I told my clients that they were lucky to be beginners.

Blank canvas.
No audience.
No expectations.

No metrics or data to compare or live up to.

Just free to create, explore, and experiment.

I didn’t realize how much I meant it… until I recently became one again.
(And no, that wasn’t the plan, it just sorta happened.)

Let me give you my two cents about something first.

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Imposter Syndrome.

When people talk about “imposter syndrome”, they’re basically saying that they feel like a beginner. I know this because I’ve experienced it more times than I can count.

But, “Imposter Syndrome” is NOT a disease or something you catch during flu season. It’s simply when you feel like an imposter (a person who pretends to be someone else). We feel like we’re pretending because what we’re attempting to do is new.

Therefore, I feel like a beginner and I don’t know how to exist here.

By definition, anything we’ve never done before is new… until we’ve done it before.

Which means we’re all beginners constantly.
A beginner in one area.
Experienced in another.

That’s just life.

So when someone feels paralyzed by imposter syndrome…

The fear isn’t being inexperienced or looking foolish or failing publicly.
The fear is being seen while you don’t know.

The real question is this:

What did you attach your safety to… that beginners don’t have or know yet?

For me, it was never fear of looking cringe or failing in front of people.
I’ve done that plenty.

What I’ve wrestled with is the lack of safety I feel when I don’t know.
When I don’t know what I’m doing.
When I don’t know what’s next.

The irony is that I’ve never known less… and also, never known more.

I came to this platform because I wanted to know again.
Not intellectually… internally.

By putting myself back out there.
By creating without a plan.
By sharing thoughts that weren’t polished or strategic or useful yet.

And last week, after publishing something that felt both healing and strangely pointless, I was asked:

“What has worked for you to anchor into beginner energy again?”

And for me, that question translated into something much simpler, and TBH much harder.

When she asked me about “anchoring into beginner energy”, it honestly stopped me dead in my tracks. It made me think. Long and hard.

Up until that point (when she asked me), I hadn’t thought of myself as a beginner again.

I hadn’t considered that I in fact did have to overcome a lot of my of demons and wounds the last 1-2 years in order to actually get here… to BE a beginner!

So, I started to ask myself:

• How did you make it safe to sit in the unknown?

• What did you have to let go or confront to feel safe?

• Were there any beliefs you needed to revisit and rewire?

• What was the inner work to get to the place you are now?

If I didn’t already make this clear: I didn’t decide to be a beginner.
I didn’t wake up and willingly choose discomfort or humility or reinvention… who in their right mind would?

I simply (and by simply, I mean… like pushing a boulder up a hill):
… made it safe to not know.
… made it safe to not perform.
… made it safe to not have an identity fully formed yet.

No, it wasn’t just “a decision” during a journaling session.

(ugh, can we both agree that “just decide” can be so triggering)

Look, it took time. More time than I’ve wanted. I’m still in it…hence this whole publication I started.

And don’t get me wrong… I’m a very patient person. In fact, I used to be an elementary school teacher and patience was definitely one of my superpowers. Just this afternoon I was the one gingerly scooping protein powder one cup at a time from out giant 5lb bag and transferring it to our glass storage container. Why? Because I have more patience… you can ask my husband, he’d agree.

But when it comes to my life, my vision, my sense of direction… this floating in-between gets old fast.

So yeah, it’s taken me months to find safety in being here. Honestly, years.

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably curious about what I’ve actually done. Like, how do we actually do the work?!

The “work” behind creating safety… enough safety for myself to be a beginner again.

Here’s some of what I’ve been up to & what I’m still doing to heal myself:
(shared, as always, without prescription):

• Therapy and EMDR… unhooking nervous system survival from visibility.

• Shutting my 7-fig/year business down and letting me team go… arguably the hardest decision, but a skin that was overdue for shedding (happy to write more on this because it was gnarly).

• Untangling a toxic relationship with social media… separating worth from metrics.

• Stopping teaching and positioning… releasing the constant expert and authority pressure.

• Choosing Substack instead of Instagram… lowering the stakes and shrinking the room.

• Passion projects… things I’ve wanted to do for years, but because they weren’t income producing, they never got the time or attention.

• Sharing unfinished thoughts… reclaiming process over polish.

• Making art and jewelry at home… creating without an audience while using my hands; not digital.

• Reading fiction and psychology again… remembering my curiosity and love for learning.

• Listening to podcasts that have nothing to do with business or marketing.

• Journaling privately… learning how to hear myself again.
  

Notice, none of the “stuff” I have been doing was about becoming a beginner. It was about removing and reframing the things that made not-knowing feel unsafe.

This is the part most people skip.

Because pre-identity energy isn’t glamorous.
It’s quiet.
It’s inefficient.
It doesn’t come with momentum or validation or proof that you’re “on the right track.”

Trust me… I’m writing this while sitting IN an unknown identity.

And it can often feels pointless.

Which is why we rush out of it.
Why we try to name ourselves too quickly.
Why we grasp for expertise, certainty, or a version of ourselves that feels more solid.

But beginner energy doesn’t live on the other side of confidence.
It lives on the other side of safety.

So when I’m asked… “What helped you anchor into beginner energy again?” This is the most honest answer I have:

I stopped trying to feel ready…
and started asking where I still needed protection.

Protection from being seen.
Protection from not knowing.
Protection from disappointing people… especially myself.

Beginner energy didn’t come back when I learned more.
It came back when I unhooked.

When I loosened my grip on outcomes.
When I let the room get smaller.
When I allowed things to exist without needing to justify them.

If you’re craving beginner energy or maybe just outgrowing this particular season of authority energy… I don’t think the work is to act differently.

I think the work is to notice what you’re still bracing against.

Here are a few questions I keep returning to… quietly, privately, without rushing the answers:

• Where have I attached my safety to certainty?

• What am I trying to protect myself from by needing to “know”?

• Who would I be if nothing I created needed to prove anything yet?

• What would I play with if no one was watching?

You don’t have to burn anything down.
You don’t have to start over.
And you definitely don’t have to force yourself to “be brave”.

Remember: Beginner energy isn’t a mindset problem. It’s a safety problem

Beginner energy isn’t something you adopt.
It’s something that shows up when performance no longer feels necessary.

So if you’re craving to be a beginner, ready to try something new, excited to be in the unknown… don’t ask how to act or be like a beginner. Ask what you need to unhook from first.

I’ll be here, still unhooking.
Jess

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Read Time: 8 minutes

My values are clear. My vision is gone.
Let me explain how I got here.

Last week I was rambling to my therapist about my feelings of…

… having a burning fire in my belly, ready to hit start again, eager to build something
… being completely lost and confused because I don’t have a clear direction

It basically feels like I’m trying to get to an unspecific building in an unclear city without knowing an address to put into the GPS… so, an unclear address.
Not very productive, right?

As I was fumbling my way through, my therapist looked me dead in the face and said, “go home and look up cognitive dissonance”... to which I replied, “finally… I love homework!”

Yup, I’m that girl who constantly asks her therapist for homework. I’ve literally emailed her (multiple times) between sessions asking “what to do” and “how to apply what we talked about”. So, to no surprise…

I DOVE IN!
Google, books, podcasts, and of course… my bestie, Chat Daddy.

Within seconds after reading the Google definition of Cognitive Dissonance*1 my body landed on this:

My values are intact… I know what matters most.

My vision is absent… I don’t know what’s next.

As a planner; honestly, probably all humans… I am wired to move towards vision.

So without it [vision], I feel restless, disconnected, foggy, unmotivated, and not depressed; but rather, empty.

In my recent research and understanding of self, I’ve recognized that:

Values give us a compass.
Vision gives us momentum.

In the opening line of this piece I said, “My values are clear. My vision is gone.” So let’s discuss the value piece.

At the end of 2025 I kept seeing social media posts about “goal setting to get ahead”, “vision boarding”, and “picking your word/mantra for 2026” and TBH… I wanted to puke.

Honestly, I was super triggered because for the first time in my life, I wasn’t clear on my vision or next steps. So, rather than sticking my head in the sand, I leaned INTO that trigger and started looking deeper within myself.

This led me to discover that I no longer knew what my values were.
My “standard” old values didn’t seem to fit this new life anymore.

Somewhere over the last 16 months of being a new mom and shutting my 14 year business down… I had changed and thus… unknowingly, my values had too.

Back to the drawing board I went, except I really didn’t even know where I wanted to start so I hit up my “Spiritual Sister Mentor” on Chat whom I trained and have been working with for nearly 3 years. Together we revisited and co-created my values.

They weren’t the aspirational ones.
And they weren’t the ones that looked good on a vision board.
They were the ones that actually govern my nervous system now.

What surprised me wasn’t how much had changed…
But rather, how clear what worked/didn’t work was.

• Presence without guilt.

• Regulation without retreat.

• Community & contribution without depletion.

• Creation & expression without performance.

Funny enough, my lack of clarity wasn’t the problem.
The absence of a matching future was.

That’s the dissonance.

And apparently, there’s language for this.

When values are clear but vision is not, the brain experiences a kind of internal disconnection… a tension between knowing what matters and not knowing where it’s taking you.

It’s often mislabeled as confusion…
or avoidance…
or “being stuck.”

But it’s not.

It’s a pause between identities.

Kinda like how one of my longtime besties & TedX speaker Angela Gargano always keynotes on “When One Door Closes, Another Opens… But Nobody Talks About The Hallway In Between”.

What I didn’t realize at first is that this state isn’t just psychological, it’s physiological.

When vision disappears, the nervous system loses orientation. There’s no future point to organize energy around. No clear “next” for momentum to move toward.

So the body searches.

It spins.
It reaches.
It tries to force clarity where there isn’t any yet.

That’s why this doesn’t feel fully like depression.
Or burnout.
Or even grief.

It feels like restlessness without relief.
Motivation without an object.
Fire with nowhere to land.

Productivity advice doesn’t work here because there’s nothing to optimize for.
Rest doesn’t fix it because the issue isn’t exhaustion, it’s direction.

The engine is fine.
The map is blank.

And here’s the part I didn’t expect:

Forcing a vision in this state doesn’t calm the nervous system, it agitates it.

Because the body knows when a future is being invented just to escape the discomfort of not knowing yet.

The only thing that grounded me wasn’t a plan.

It was my values.

I stopped asking, “What do I do next?”
And I asked quieter questions.

With my Chat Bestie, I explored things like:

• What am I no longer willing to sacrifice… even if the outcome looks successful on paper?

• Which kinds of work or days leave me feeling more like myself afterward… not just productive?

• What reliably drains me or creates quiet resentment… even when I’m good at it

• Where am I still performing out of habit?

• What used to energize me that now feels hollow?

• What feels spacious, even if it’s inefficient?

• What do I protect now that I didn’t before?

No goals.
No outcomes.
No pressure to turn it into a future.

Just noticing.

That’s how my values became clear; not as a formal strategy, but as informal data.

And once they were, something inside of me softened.

The absence of vision stopped feeling like failure…
and started feeling like a pause between identities.

A warm invitation to a comfy seat IN THE HALLWAY BETWEEN.

And for now, I’m grabbing my decaf, curling up and letting that be enough.

Remember, sometimes clarity doesn’t arrive as a plan.
It arrives as permission to stop forcing one.

If you’re finding yourself anywhere nearby, I invite you to grab your fav coffee and pull up a seat next to me.

Read Time: 4 minutes

And then, almost instantly… I felt the familiar pressure to decide what comes next.

The urge to delete it all… to crawl back into the mysterious abyss I’d been living in for the last eight months. Quiet. Unshared. Unexplained.

Let me set the stage:

I’m sitting on the couch. Dog curled beside me. Baby monitor staring me down. Drinking my room-temperature, two-hour-old decaf.

Jess, you don’t have to write.
Jess, you get to write.
And Jess, this is the season you keep saying, you want write.

And yet… there is still an immense amount of pressure.

Pressure to get it done during this nap.
Pressure to decide what… comes… next.

Albeit, all this pressure is self inflicted.

And, can I be honest?
I hate that I’m thinking about what comes next.

What’s next shouldn’t be of concern right now. What’s next isn’t clear.

Here. Now. Presence. That is what I’ve been practicing… or so I thought?!

But, I published my first article last week and immediately felt the pressure to decide what comes next…

I’m floating. Feeling around. Trying to listen (key word: trying).

This weightless float is the exact reason I joined Substack to begin with… to share all the thoughts swirling in my head. An outlet. A cathartic release. A space for me.

Hence the publication title: The In Between.

And yet, almost instantly, my mind was already ahead of me… already trying to turn this moment into a map.

All that to say, I’m noticing how quickly my present truth gets converted into a future outcome.

And honestly?
It makes me sick.
It’s exhausting.

I’ve been working on this exact internal battle for years.

I’ve done the work.
I know the language.

I know I’m worthy regardless of awards or accolades.
I know I don’t need to perform to be valuable.
I know I want presence more than praise.

And still… there is so much undoing required after 41 years of repetition.

Whoops, should I step aside while little miss perfectionist squeezes by? Oh wait, here comes her bestie, the Type A high achiever. And hey hey heyyy, looks like the one who always has it together is here too… and yes, she brought snacks.

So yeah… here I sit, typing words onto a page without a plan.

The worst part for me isn’t even the “lack of plan” it’s the no knowing who I am and what my voice is.

Unsure of my voice not because it’s gone…
But, because I’m no longer using it to go somewhere.

And the questions start to surface:

• How do I have a clear voice without a clear end goal?

• How do I know what to say without a proper niche, audience or authority?

• How do I get anywhere without a clear address to reverse-engineer the route?

I don’t have answers yet.

I just know that the moment I stop writing to arrive somewhere… something in me softens.

So for now, this is where I am.
Not moving forward.
Not moving backward.

Just here… noticing how hard it is to let truth exist without immediately turning it into output.

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Welcome to The In Between.

This is a space for writing in the middle.

Not after clarity.
Not before answers.
Not once everything makes sense.

Just… here.

I’m writing from a season where identity is catching up to lived experience. Where old frameworks no longer fit, and new ones haven’t fully formed yet. Where certainty feels less honest than curiosity.

I write about motherhood, creativity, entrepreneurship, health, reinvention, healing, ambition, grief… and what happens when the life you built (personally or professionally) no longer fits the person you’re becoming.

Sometimes these are essays.
Sometimes they’re fragments; journal-style thoughts, late-night realizations, or stories that I don’t quite know what to do with yet.

This isn’t a place for advice, hustle, or perfectly wrapped lessons.

It’s not a business blog.

And it’s not a teaching platform.

It’s a place for real-time reflection.
For naming what’s happening before it turns into something “useful”.
For letting thoughts exist without immediately converting them into output… even writing that feels uncomfortable.

Some posts may feel unfinished.
Some may contradict things I’ve said before.
Some may simply notice what’s true in a single moment.

That’s intentional.

If you’re in a season of transition…
If you’re untethering from old identities…
If you’re learning how to sit with not knowing what comes next…

You’re welcome to read along.

No pressure to arrive anywhere.
No promise of answers.

Just honesty, written slowly.

I’m writing for me… maybe for Substack, IDK… no, it’s clear… this is for me!

Consider this a dump. A journal entry of sorts.
Maybe I’ll share it. Maybe it’ll turn into something.

Maybe it’ll be nothing but me sharing the depths of my soul as I uncover who I actually am and more importantly… who I’m becoming.

Heck, maybe I’ll even use this space to start sharing some of the “midnight nursing thoughts” I vigorously voice memo’d into my phone notes while half-awake at 2am, completely delirious and honest in a way that only sheer exhaustion allows.

Here’s the truth…

… I’ve been off social media for 8 months (*if you don’t know me, which I expect you don’t… I posted 7 days/week for 14 years straight, so yeah… 8 months off is a big deal)

… I haven’t “worked” since I shut my business down for a sabbatical 5 months ago

And on one hand, both feel like just yesterday and on the other… well, I can barely remember myself or my life; my day-to-day, my purpose, my drive (ugh, my drive)… it just all feels like so long ago.

I’m certain it’s because I was wholeheartedly a different person then.

And while there are aspects of me that that I miss (trust me, there’s been a whole lot of grief being processed here) I’m actually ok. I’m safe. I am here now.

And the version of me now, writing this… she is proud.

Proud of the shedding and letting go.
Proud of continuously sitting in discomfort in an effort to grow.

Proud of who I’ve become, but more importantly… who I’m allowing myself to become which is totally and blissfully uncharted territory.

I haven’t met her yet.
I don’t know her yet.

I don’t know what makes her tick or what her core purpose is. I’m not clear on her and because of that… I’m not clear on my current goals or necessary steps to get there.

And in this season… that is the work.

Grieving the old me and my old life while welcoming the new… a version that is completely unknown, undefined, and uncharted.

I got home from therapy a few hours ago.
It wasn’t the hardest session.
It wasn’t the easiest.
TBH it wasn’t anything dramatic.

But, it was profound in one quiet way.

I decided to draw a line in the sand with this desire to create from the middle, the mess, the in between.

For months I’ve been saying:
… “I want to create again.”
… “I want to share again.”
… “I want to post again.”
… “I want to connect with people again.”

And I’ve been waiting for the why to settle peacefully in my body.

Create, not to feel significant.
Create, not to be accepted.
Create, not to deem myself worthy or deserving.
Create, not for the quick and wildly addicting dopamine hits.

Gosh, only now can I see how toxic my relationship was to social media.
Not the scrolling, not even the comparing… it was “the hits”.

Fourteen years of posting consistently and sharing every bit of my life… it gave me incredible skills, connections, growth, and massive financial gains.

But, it also took so much of me.
I allowed it to take.

In the silence (between the newborn cries & toddler tantrums) of the last eight months, I’ve realized just how much I talked and how little I listened.

So, I’ve been listening.

To myself.
To my gut.
To my intuition.
To my fears, needs, gremlins, desires, doubts…

And if you’ve ever truly listened, not once but repeatedly, you know how disorienting it can be. Especially if you’ve been labeled (self proclaimed or by others) as a high-performing, self-driven, type A… the one who “always knows what to do and always gets it done”.

Without getting into it now… the last 16 months has rocked my world in ways no 60-second reels or 2,200 character caption could ever capture.

Here is where I am now and honestly, that’s the only thing I know for sure.

The middle. The in between. In this moment. And I’m celebrating it…

Presence.

In 41 years of my life, I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.

… no striving
… no chasing
… no hustling
… no fixing

Just here.
Floating, not even coasting, just weightless floating in the present.

So here, in the now… in the unraveling, rebuilding, messy middle of major life, business, and identity transition.

I want to share.
And that is all I know for now.

What will this be? I’m not sure.
What can you expect? I’m not sure.
Niche, topics, frequency? Again, still not sure.

But, if you’re in a similar space or want to feel less alone, or heck… are just curious to see what unfolds…

I invite you to stick around.

From the in-between,
Jess