I've been behind the chair in small-town Massachusetts since I was 21. For over two decades, people have been opening up to me in ways they don't with anyone else. Not their therapists, not their partners, not their best friends. I became the person they trusted with their fears, their dreams, and their repeated patterns. I was coaching long before I had a name for it.

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About a decade in, I was living the overachiever's dream and it was slowly killing me. At 29, I opened my own salon. At 30, while running that business with a 3-year-old at home, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I didn't skip a beat. I kept working through treatment because that's what overachievers do, right?

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The diagnosis didn't hand me some instant epiphany. It was a series of small perspective shifts. Slowly, I started questioning everything; my relationship with achievement, my need to prove myself, my inability to choose myself over everyone else's needs.

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For seven years, I ran that salon in a toxic business partnership. Burned out, overwhelmed, and losing myself in the process. I knew I couldn't stay, but I had no idea what leaving would look like.

 

So I just made a move.

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I closed the salon, ended the partnership, and had absolutely no plan for what came next. It was terrifying. It was liberating. It was messy as hell.

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I rented a suite, went back to working solo, and found coaching. At 40, I got certified through the International Coach Federation and everything clicked. I'd been doing this work for twenty years already, I just finally had the tools to go deeper.

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Now, 12 years in remission, as a wife, mom to a teenager, and a 20 year entrepreneur, I show up for my clients the way I wish someone had shown up for me: with honesty, with belief in their ability to move, and with zero patience for staying stuck.

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This is THAT place. And I am THAT girl.