What I thought I knew 

For a long time, I thought I knew exactly who I was. Spoiler alert: I did not.

I’m the youngest of five siblings, which means I learned early on how to adapt, fit in, and meet expectations. I wanted to be seen, understood, heard. I wanted to be loved.

My mom ran a tight ship, and I wanted so badly to fit in with my siblings — I worshipped them. But that meant I didn’t get a lot of practice making choices for me.

So I followed the path that was laid out:  get good grades, get into college, pick a career early and stick to it. Do it all really, really well.

I worked my ass off for validation in whatever form I could find it. I tied my value to being a good daughter. Having a ton of friends. Being the teacher’s pet. Having boys like me.

And quietly, underneath all of that, were three unspoken rules:

Don’t do anything you might be bad at.  Avoid embarrassment at all costs. Take no risks. 

What I know now

Over the years, that mindset shaped my choices more than I realized.

I decided in middle school that I wanted to be a math teacher, like two of my older siblings, and stayed diligently on that “safe” path. Even when there was a pull to try on a major in anthropology, I didn’t stray – take no risks, remember?!  I networked, got a job, built a name for myself, and earned a strong reputation in the community. By all external measures, I was doing exactly what I was “supposed” to do.  But internally, I would drive to work wondering “Is this really all there is? Is this the rest of my life?”

What’s ironic is that the people closest to me will tell you I’m no-bullshit. I say what I think. I don’t sugarcoat things.  I hardly ever do anything I don’t want to do.  

And still, for a long time, my life was still shaped by choosing what felt safe, impressive, or validating instead of what actually fit.

I had created an identity that worked for me, and got very good at “succeeding” inside of those bounds.  In turn, I struggled to trust myself outside of them.

So when I left teaching after six years, it wasn’t because I had failed. It was because I was finally confident enough in who I was—and what I was capable of—to step away from a path that was never truly mine and embark on a more authentic one.  

How I’m sharing what I’ve learned

It was my first life coach that gave me the tools I needed to embark on a new path with clarity and confidence.  

That’s the work I care about now.

Not polished careers.  Not perfect plans.  Not meeting everyone else’s expectations.

But instead helping people build the kind of self-trust that lets them make their own choices, try new things, get uncomfortable, and move through the world without constantly second-guessing themselves. Because we all deserve to live a life where we can be curious, playful, and aligned with who we truly are.