Tiny Brave Steps. The Blog. 

Other women have figured something out that I haven't. You see her everywhere. The woman whose post has three hundred comments. The one who launched her program and filled it in a month. The one who seems to know exactly where her people are. And you scroll past with a quiet ache you don't say out loud. So you do what she does. You post when the experts say to post. You follow the plan that worked for everyone else. You build your week around someone else's rhythm. And when i

If I'm being difficult, I must be wrong. For a lot of us, that thought arrives before any other. Someone pushes back, and we don't ask whether it's right for us. We ask how to make them comfortable again. So you say yes to the extra revision. You knock a little off your price because it's been a slow month. You answer her email at nine at night because she seemed anxious. You agree to the project you already know you'll resent. Nobody made you. That's the part that stings. An

I tried that once. It didn't really go anywhere. Maybe it was the workshop where four people signed up. The newsletter whose open rates you stopped checking. The offer you launched and all you heard was silence. You did the brave part. You put it out there. Then the numbers came back small, nobody said much, and you quietly closed the drawer on it. You haven't opened that drawer since. When you're building something on your own, there's no one down the hall to tell you what t

You're going to do it. You've decided. Once you feel ready. Once the nerves settle and you're more sure of yourself. Once the confidence shows up. So the thing waits. The invite sits in your drafts. The idea you haven't quite finished detailing remains half-done. You hesitate to say what you really want to do out loud. And you wait right there with it, for a feeling that hasn't come. Can I tell you something that will change how you see this? It isn't really about the idea.

I was eighteen, in my first year of college, on a bus to a choir performance when a friend asked me a question. “Tell me three things you like about yourself.” I couldn't name one. I remember feeling at a loss. Saying anything positive about myself was so foreign to me that I couldn't come up with anything. So she began naming things she saw in me. My compassion. My kindness. My singing. The way I listened. She could see those things. I couldn't. That conversation stayed with

You try to picture the woman you're becoming, and somehow she feels like a stranger. Calmer than you. Braver. Further down the road, living a life that looks good to you. She just doesn't look much like the woman standing in your kitchen in your fuzzy slippers before anyone else is up, drinking coffee and looking at a list that never seems to end. So you do the math. That woman sounds lovely. She's just not you. And you quietly set the picture aside, maybe even feeling a litt

There's a sticky note on your mirror. Maybe you wrote it last week. Maybe you've been carrying it for years without ever writing it down. The place you're not willing to end up. The woman you refuse to become. And all week, it's been catching your eye. If this is your first time here, let me catch you up. There's a distance between who you are right now and who you're meant to become. I call it the chasm. You cross it on a bridge, built one plank at a time, with a plank bein

Someone asks what you want, and your mind goes quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The other kind. You can list what your team needs, what your family needs, what the next six months need from you. Then the question turns toward you, and there's nothing there. And truth be told, the question kind of annoys you. It's hard work. It means you have to go inside, down to the place where you could see what you want and put it into words. That room hasn't been opened in a while.

You can see it. The thing you want. Maybe not in detail, but you can feel how you want it to look. The work that would matter. The relationship you're quietly aching for. The version of your life that’s more you than anything you’ve ever done up until now. And then you try to move toward it, and something happens. A cavern opens up in front of you. You see the whole thing at once. Every step between here and there, stacked on top of each other, all due now. And it's so big t

Someone asks what you want and you go quiet. Not because there's nothing in there. You could answer in a heartbeat if the question were pointed at anyone else. What your daughter needs. What your team needs. What would make the next six months easier for everybody in the house. Turn it around and aim it at you, and there's a pause where the answer should be. It’s not that you don’t know or that you don’t have any. It’s more that you haven’t been asked for so long, you don’t

There is something you want. A version of your life that feels more like yours. You don't say it out loud. Because saying it out loud makes it real, and then you have to either go after it or explain why you didn't. So it stays where it is. Quiet. Just under the surface of an ordinary week. It's not that you're afraid of the thing you want. It's that you don't know how to stop hesitating. And you're afraid of the distance. The chasm in front of you You're here. What you want

I was in a room full of women being celebrated. Awards. Acknowledgements. Women standing up to talk about what they'd built. The revenue. The milestones. The years of doing everything right. The big house, the three cars in the garage, all of it. And I sat there doing the quiet math we do without meaning to. Measuring the distance between them and me. By the end of the night, I had decided something about myself, almost without noticing. That the woman I wanted to become, the

A few years ago, when I was building this business, my desk was covered in lists. Plans for the plans. Steps before the steps. Contingencies for things that hadn't happened and mostly never would. I thought that was the work. I thought if I could just get all the pieces in place, line them up, account for every turn and every surprise, then I'd be allowed to begin. So I kept asking the same question, over and over. How. How do I build this? How do I make it work? How do I ma

She was thirteen years old in a house full of smoke. Her whole family smoked. Her parents, her siblings, the whole ecosystem of people she had grown up inside. She was the only one who didn't. So she retreated to her room, kept the door closed, made good grades, and quietly, without announcing it, lived differently from everyone around her. She didn't call it courage. She probably didn't call it anything. She just knew what she was and what she wasn't, and she acted according

Your heart pounds as you stare at another endless to-do list. The weight of running your business sits heavy on your shoulders. Late...

You're sitting there, aren't you? Finger hovering over that "post" or "send" button, heart racing, wondering if you're about to make a...

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at a reflection that seems “inadequate”. The voice in your head is relentless: "Who do...

You're drowning in a sea of tasks, your mind racing with endless decisions. Your inbox overflows, your to-do list seems infinite, and...

There’s one thing that will keep your business from growing the way you imagine it in your head. Well, considering how many of us keep...

You're tired. Overwhelmed. Every day feels like trying to climb a mountain with a backpack full of rocks. Your to-do list never ends,...