I just got an email back from a client that would have thrown me into a tailspin a few years ago.

“We were not impressed… We’re going to stop here and source another solution.”

I’ve run a design studio for the past 25 years, and somehow I ended up in the odd niche of commercial real estate. I’ve worked with upwards of 15 separate CRE firms over the tenure of my career, and what I’ve learned is you never quite know what you’re going to get.

Sometimes it’s over-the-top admiration. They have never seen a better design. Where have we been all their lives?

Then there is the client who is used to PowerPoint presentations and crap designs created by the executive assistant who fancies herself a designer because, “she knows Photoshop.” They wouldn’t know good design if it hit them in the face. And that’s just the way it is. These clients can sometimes be coaxed away from using Calibri as a brand font, but oftentimes, they can’t be shown the light.

So today, when I got that feedback, instead of going into an imposter-syndrome spiral, I let out a deep breath and felt relief wash over me.

I’m an intuition girl. I have been working on learning to listen and trust my gut for a hot second now, and this moment was what I have come to recognize as a universal “brake check”. My friend MaryAnn coined the term, as far as I know. It’s when you’re working on some bit of personal development, and the universe gives you the chance to try out your newly minted skill. “You think you mastered letting your ego get the better of you? Hold my beer.” Then you’re hit with the client who didn’t like your work; the friend who is testing a boundary you’ve set; the daily meditation practice you thought you had set in stone, but you’re ready to throw the habit out the window because you missed a day. All these moments are meant to test you. Sometimes you don’t pass, and sometimes you impress yourself (like today for me) and realize you really have mastered something.

When you’re in school, and you’re learning something new, you’re always given the final exam to show that you’ve understood and can implement the information. It’s the same with life. When you’re trying to change something you don’t like about yourself, you can say you don’t want to react a certain way or feel a type of way any longer, but until you’re put to the test, you don’t know if it stuck. And every time you’re tested, you can see how much further you’ve come.

There is also the “what is true” technique I can put these moments up against. It goes a little something like this:

What is true? I am a great designer. My team is fabulous. My studio is thriving. I have clients who rave about my work and consider my expertise an important part of their business.

It’s easy to go all doom and gloom when you get a hit like this. But with the hindsight of 25 years as an entrepreneur, I know that these things always happen for the best and highest good. These clients are not my clients, and that’s ok. Did I waste 9 hours of my team’s time? Yes. But in the end, these are the hardest clients to work with and are better offloaded quickly.

I’ve been at this for 25 years and have never been more confident about my abilities. Releasing a misaligned relationship leaves space for the right opportunities. And things that I perceived as failures at the time were actually protecting me and redirecting me to the next best thing.

So when you find yourself in this moment, shift your perspective and see it as an opportunity for noticing growth. Did you react the same way as you used to? Or did you do something new and better?

This morning I accidentally left for my class a whole half hour early, which I took as a sign to go into the coffee shop before my class and look at the book again. It's one of those big, beautiful, yummy coffee table books with a letter-pressed cover. And as much as I attempted to make a mental note yesterday of the title of the book. It was completely lost to me within hours.

I went into the store under the guise of buying this homemade Pop-Tart that I also spied yesterday. I wasn't sure I was going to buy the book because, judging by its size, I'm sure it also carried a hefty price tag. So while I was waiting for the woman to ring me up for this beautiful little pastry, I took a quick peek to see if the book was still there.

I don't know why I felt funny looking at the price or thumbing through it to make sure that it was something I really wanted to own. Neither one of the women at the shop was the one, so I wouldn't be offending them. But still I took my time looking through it. The guide to becoming alive - flamingo estate. The color of the book cloth, the beautifully letterpressed sans-serif somewhat ' 80s-inspired type, and incredible photography were probably enough to get my hard-earned dollars, but there was also this nudging intuitive voice saying, “you must own this.”

I gently placed the heavy prize on the counter and took my treasure back to one of the little tables with the gorgeous yellow dalias in the center to start browsing through my purchase.

Just reviewing the table of contents. I knew that I had made the right call.

With chapters like Architecting the House of Radical Pleasure, work like Wisteria, and Find Your Banana, I was among my people.

There's a funny thing that happens, or at least it happens to me, when I pick up something like this: I get radically creatively triggered.

As I began reading the intro, I found myself scribbling inspired thoughts in the margins and drawing little visions that the author's words were creating in my head.

I used to think books were just for reading, but after becoming a disciple of Ryan Holiday, I realized they're meant to be used. A good book is worn and has underlying bits and notes in the margins. A good book isn't just read; it's studied. And referenced. And annotated. What good is just reading a book if you're not ingesting it and bringing its teachings into your being? A good book becomes part of you.

I only had 15 minutes before my class started across the street, but before I had my feet and straps, I made those next 15 minutes as slow as possible while I pored over the intro and nibbled on the raspberry Pop-Tart.

As I was about ready to leave, the owner came by my table with a knowing smile. “That one's really special l,” she said. “It's one of those books that you just pick up and read what you've opened to, like a message for the day.”

I'm sure future writings will be filled with quotes and musings on what comes up for me as I go through it, but what's exciting me so much about this right now is the anticipation of the joy of meeting someone new and getting a peek inside their brain and thoughts on things like relishing slow moments, creating joy, and discovering what finding your banana means.

October is the month of ghosts, goblins, and haunted houses. So when it came time to choose the topic for my Root & Rise circle, “fear” felt like the obvious pick. (Actually, it was my husband’s idea—so thanks, babe!)

There’s nothing I love more than digging into an uncomfortable topic and hashing it out with my guides or friends. But before guiding the group through the meditation I’d planned, I did it myself to test how it flowed. (I won’t ask anyone to go where I haven’t gone first.)

The fear of failure showed up, as expected, but I realized it was actually a disguise for something much deeper. Something that’s been keeping my book in a drawer for 12 years.

I don’t actually fear failure. It can be tough to get through, but I’ve come to expect it and even trust it. Failure has become a cue for me to know I’m not on the right path and a useful guidepost to the next step.

So if it wasn’t failure, then what was it?

Judgment.

I am afraid of other people’s opinions and thoughts about my failures, my successes, my words, and my actions. Really, I’m afraid they are going to judge ME.

And nowhere does that fear scream louder than when I think about finally sharing my book. My brain and heart get all spinny, wrapped up in what you would say or think. Whether you’d judge me for getting it wrong, or sounding preachy, or for thinking I had anything worth saying at all.

What if they think I’m unqualified? What if they think I’m full of crap? What if I’m wasting their time?

This voice shows up everywhere. Every time I post content, send a newsletter, or even draft a caption, I hear it whisper: “What will they think? Who do you think you are?”

I’m sure this sounds familiar, because we all have this inner voice. It’s often referred to as your ego, and it’s doing what it does best. It goes into survival mode and tries to keep us safe by keeping us small. It’s invested in us being liked, approved of, and most importantly, uncriticized.

But just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s actually true. And when we start believing the noise, the ego talks us out of even showing up.

Here’s what I’ve found: it’s not failure we’re afraid of. Failure’s just feedback. What really keeps us small is the fear that someone’s going to see us try and think we’re ridiculous. And here’s a little secret—usually that judgment comes from their own fears about stepping up and being seen.

I needed something to help me push through that moment—something to hold onto when the “who do you think you are” voice gets really loud. So I came up with a set of questions to check in with myself. I called it BRAVE. It’s simple, but it helped. It reminded me why I was writing this in the first place.

So what do we do when the fear gets loud?

We get BRAVE.

B — Bigger Why: Does this connect to my greater purpose or mission? Not just why I’m posting, but why this work matters. Fear shrinks when you zoom out.

R — Realness: Am I walking my talk? If I’m not living what I’m saying, the fear has a foothold. But when it’s aligned, it’s powerful.

A — Audience: What’s the takeaway for someone else? If this is in service to others, then their judgment isn’t the point—their growth is.

V — Validation (Inner): Would my younger self have needed this? If it would have helped her, it will help someone else too. Speak to her with love and clarity.

E — Enoughness: If someone judged me out loud, what would it really change? If it doesn’t shake my truth or stop my mission, it’s not worth shrinking over.

BRAVE is the only reason I’m finally finishing this book. It’s the only reason you’re reading this right now. It gave me something to hold onto when the doubts started circling—when I almost scrapped the whole thing and talked myself out of sharing any of it. Those questions didn’t fix the fear, but they helped me move through it and connect back to my purpose.

My fear of judgment kept my book in a drawer for 12 years. It’s stopped me from hitting publish on posts. It’s made me second-guess every caption, every newsletter, every damn thing I’ve ever wanted to share.

But it doesn’t get to decide what I do with my voice anymore, and I won’t let it carry more weight than my purpose.

So I’m keeping BRAVE in my back pocket for the next time fear tries to take the wheel. And if you ever need a way to push through the fear, maybe it’s something you can come back to, too.

Because if my fear of judgment kept me from sharing my book for 12 years, it’s probably keeping you from sharing something too. And that would be a damn shame.

Your voice matters. Your work matters. What you have to say is worth hearing, even when the loud voice in your head tells you otherwise.

So get BRAVE and share the thing you’re afraid of being judged for. See what happens.

Want to save this framework? Download the BRAVE checklist to reference the next time fear tries to keep you small.

P.S. The book’s coming in January!!!

Short answer? Yes.

But let’s get something straight—forgiveness isn’t about excusing what happened. It’s about setting yourself free.

I spent way too much time replaying old fights, obsessing over what I should have said, what I should have done differently. I carried that weight like a badge of honor, thinking that holding onto my resentment somehow kept me in control. But the truth? It kept me stuck.

And not just stuck in the past—stuck in the same patterns, the same mindset, the same damn emotional loops that drained my energy and blurred my vision for the future.

The turning point? When I realized that forgiveness wasn’t for them—it was for me.

I didn’t forget. I didn’t excuse. I just released the grip it had on me.

And suddenly, there was space. Space for peace, for joy, for me.

Here’s the part no one tells you: You also have to forgive yourself.

If you're being real with yourself, how much of your energy has been spent shaming yourself for the choices you made? For the times you stayed when you should have left? For the moments you ignored your gut?

I get it. I found myself if this position as well

It’s easy to beat yourself up. To replay the regrets. To judge past-you like you didn’t do the best you could with what you had.

But let me ask you this: Would you tell your best friend she’s stupid for loving the wrong person?

Would you shame her for trying so hard to make things work?

Would you remind her, over and over, of everything she did “wrong”?

Of course not.

So why are you doing it to yourself?

Listen to me: You made those choices for a reason.

Not because you were weak.

Not because you were broken.

But because, at the time, you truly believed they were the right choices.

And there’s a beauty in that.

Because here’s where your power comes in: If you had the power to make those choices, you have the power to make new ones.

Forgiveness—of others and of yourself—isn’t about pretending it didn’t happen. It’s about owning your story without letting it own you.

It’s about stepping out of the victim role and into the role of the person who gets to decide what happens next.

Because when you shift from “This happened to me” to “I played a part in this”, you also open the door to playing a part in your future.

And that? That’s where everything changes.

Ready for an action step? Let That Shit Go

Alright, it’s time to do some emotional housekeeping. Grab a notebook and let’s clear out the junk drawer of your heart:

Step 1: Release

Grab a piece of paper and write down the names of the people you need to forgive—including yourself. Next to each name, write what you need to release.

Is it the resentment for how they treated you?

Is it guilt for something you did

Is it anger for not seeing the truth sooner?

Now, read the list out loud. Say: I release this. I choose to let this go. It no longer has power over me.

And then? Rip it up. Burn it (safely). Shred it. Do whatever feels like a true release.

Step 2: Rebuild

Now that you’ve made space, it’s time to reclaim your power.

Make two lists:

1. Choices I Made That Led Me Here – Write down the choices—big or small—that shaped your path. Not to shame yourself, but to own your power. Recognize the role you played in where you are today.

2. Choices I Can Make Now to Create a Different Future – Shift the focus forward. If you have the power to make different choices, what are they? What are the first three shifts you can make today?

This is where your freedom begins.

Not because you’re erasing the past.

Not because you’re pretending it never happened.

But because you are finally, fully stepping into your power.

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