My little boy is napping next to me. He’s got a cast on his right arm from falling off the kitchen island two weeks ago, and he’s been running fevers on and off since Monday night.

It’s so easy to comfort him. It’s so easy to make him feel cosy and safe, and it fills me with insurmountable rage to think that there are so many among us who do not feel that children are precious and deserve to be protected.

Ever since Friday (the Epstein file dump), I’ve been feeling completely under the weather – emotionally, physically, and spiritually. The kind of heaviness that settles into your bones and doesn’t lift, the kind that makes you question how we move through a world that contains both this tenderness and this brutality.

And yet…

Right now, in this exact moment of being cracked open, I am attracting more people to my writing and my work than I have since I first went out on my own in 2021. The demand to work with me is higher than it’s been in years.

I’ve been trying to understand where this magnetism is coming from, and I can say with certainty it’s not just because I’m speaking my mind freely and publicly in ways I never have before. That would be too simple, too neat, and it would also be dishonest.

What’s happening right now is the result of something much less glamorous and much more intentional: five years of constant work (both conscious and subconscious), that I’ve finally cemented into pure habit and routine. The kind of infrastructure that doesn’t make for inspiring content but makes everything else possible.

I’m talking about the full-time housekeeper who ensures our home functions without me managing every detail. The part-time nanny who gives me uninterrupted time to think and work.

My husband, Max, who now works with me full-time in our business, which means I’m no longer carrying the weight of being the sole provider – we’re a team, and that shift has been a massive blessing.

I’m talking about reading daily quotes from Esther Hicks, meditating when anxiety surfaces (especially before big decisions or when I’m about to promote myself), and taking real time to be fully present with my children at night when we’re snuggling in bed.

I’m talking about cutting out nearly all processed foods, saying goodbye to Coca Cola and my nightly spoonfuls of Nutella (if you know me, you know this one is significant). Taking supplements to support my gut and reset my digestive system. Increasing my intake of vegetables, seeds, and water dramatically. Reducing red meat.

I’m talking about working with a pelvic floor specialist regularly, playing tennis with Max twice a week, taking beginner ballet once a week with gfs, and cycling or walking everywhere instead of taking a car whenever possible.

This is the unsexy truth about what makes it possible to show up without performing, without compartmentalizing, without splitting yourself into acceptable pieces.

It requires infrastructure – material, spiritual, physical – and the willingness to tell the truth about what that actually looks like.

People are coming to me right now not because I’ve figured out how to go viral or because I’m hustling like a creator or because I’m charging for access to my “vibes.” They’re coming because I’m showing up whole – with the tenderness and the rage and the exhaustion and the joy. My kids show up in my Zoom calls. So do the kids of my clients and community members. I speak my mind, I hold space, I move people forward and I give them hope.

I’ve been teaching the long game for five years now – not quick hacks or viral formulas. What I teach is rooted in strategy and real-life testing, built on years of working with startups and some of the world’s biggest brands on global marketing campaigns before I went out on my own. This isn’t theory. It’s what actually works when you’re building something meant to last.

What I teach is showing up as you are.

Grace and kindness, and the kind of integrity that doesn’t require polishing yourself into someone else’s (likely a bro or girl boss’) idea of success.

If you’re tired of the performance, yes, but also tired of the quick hacks, the courses that leave you alone to figure it out, the get-rich-quick and go-viral-quick schemes, the coaching pyramids, the girl boss vibes, the fakeness of it all – this is what I’m building.

This is the work.

If you’re building something meant to last, you need foundation underneath visibility. Instagram creates awareness, but depth, thinking, and conversion can happen elsewhere.

That’s why I’ve chosen Substack as the foundation everything else builds from. My essays become my emails, my Instagram content, my LinkedIn posts. They’ve led to press, high-ticket clients, and past clients reaching back out – with fewer than 150 subscribers.

On February 10th, I’m teaching a live workshop where we’ll set up your Substack together, step by step, so it’s clear, usable, and ready to monetize.

If the below sounds familiar, then my workshop is for you:

• You want a Substack but feel overwhelmed
• Instagram feels exhausting or unreliable
• You want to monetize your ideas without endless video creation
• You want visibility that compounds instead of resets

By the end of this workshop, you will have:

• A live Substack ready to publish
• A clear bio that attracts aligned subscribers
• A free subscribber offer written
• A simple monetization foundation in place
• A clear plan for your first 3 posts
• A strategy to grow subscribers without daily posting