When I first considered becoming an alignment coach, I had to dig deep into my own psyche. The last thing I wanted was to be one of those "fake it until you make it" types. I wanted to show up as real and grounded—not someone regurgitating a few self-help books, tossing around buzzwords, or embodying the cliché of a newly certified, New Age escapee from the corporate grind.
But getting there wasn’t easy.
For most of my life, I’ve been fueled by “outcome over effort.” It’s a mindset that served me well professionally, but when the laptop lid closed, I was left with an unshakable restlessness. I needed a new project, something to fix or transform—a broken thing to repair or a half-formed idea to make whole. I yearned for the kind of passion that would take hold of me and redirect my relentless energy.
Instead, I found myself stuck. Searching.
And then, the world stopped me in my tracks. It didn’t come gently—it slapped an uninvited, ugly project in front of me and drained every ounce of energy I had left.
It was bitter. It was dark.
And it was exactly what I needed.
I was out of alignment.
The rebuild wasn’t quick or easy. It dragged me into the shadows, forcing me to confront parts of myself I’d long ignored. It taught me kinder ways, slower rhythms, and more honest truths. Piece by piece, a more authentic version of me began to emerge.
But let me be clear—it didn’t happen overnight. There was no magic wand, no instruction manual, and no lifetime guarantee. What lay ahead was a process that felt painfully uncomfortable at first.
This was about to become “All About Me,” and that wasn’t what I’d signed up for.
At first, "All About Me" felt like wearing an itchy, ill-fitting jumper—something I couldn’t wait to take off. It scratched at my patience, tightened around my insecurities, and amplified my anxieties. I was painfully aware of how others saw me. Every word I spoke, every reaction I gave, felt overanalyzed and awkward. I started to shrink, withdrawing from social situations and hiding my once-bold presence.
I was becoming beige. Transparent. Invisible.
It took one kind person’s words to start shifting the tide. Then came the support of a few die-hard, long-term legends in my life. Slowly, I reached into my well-worn (and slightly dented) toolbox, finding the courage to dig deeper than I ever had before.
At first, there were droplets of clarity. Then puddles. Eventually, the icy grip of the winter of my discontent began to thaw.
The beige gave way to warmth and color. That ill-fitting jumper was tossed aside, and with it, the layers of self-doubt and people-pleasing that had weighed me down. The Ice Maiden melted, and though some still jokingly call me "the witch" (because of my passion for transformation), it’s a label I now wear with pride.
Alignment doesn’t come wrapped in pretty packaging. It’s not a convenient gift that arrives exactly when you want it. It’s messy and unpredictable, but it shows up for a reason. Sometimes it’s a season. Sometimes it’s a lifetime lesson. Either way, you have to be ready to do the work.
And I did the work.
Being an alignment coach isn’t something you’ll find in a neat job description on LinkedIn. It’s not “a thing” you grow up aspiring to be, even though it should be. I wish it were more visible, less mysterious, and more “everyday.” I wish explaining my work didn’t feel like I had to justify some magical, otherworldly superpower.
But the truth is, alignment is magical. And yes, it has reshaped my life in ways I never imagined.
If you’re wearing your own itchy, ill-fitting jumper and you’re ready to shed it, let’s talk.
Alignment is about finding a life that fits—not one that scratches at your insecurities or hides who you really are. It’s about showing up authentically, boldly, and with purpose.
Email me, comment below, or subscribe to my blog. Together, we’ll navigate the twists and turns of your path, discover what’s next, and create space for you to live fully aligned.
Sometimes, the perfect pause happens for a reason. And maybe, just maybe, it’s happening now.
Thank you for being here.
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