There was a time I could move mountains for others, but not for myself.

I climbed ladders, survived systems, and held space for everyone, but I called it love when I lost myself for him.

I stayed in a marriage that drained me of my light, my voice, my identity.
I worked hard, performed well, but I was shrinking inside.
I gave everything to someone who was never capable of holding it.

And then one day, everything cracked.

A moment where I feared I wouldn’t make it out. I was gasping for breath both literally and metaphorically.

And still, I kept going to work. Kept delivering.
On the outside, I looked like someone who had it all under control.
But something had already shifted inside me.

In the midst of that chaos, a flicker of light appeared.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
But undeniable.

A presence entered my world.
Subtle, yet piercing like a divine nudge.
The team I worked with started to notice me.
Not for how I performed, but for who I was.
Gently. Consistently. Without asking for anything.

It was a message. A mirror. A reminder.
That I was still here.
That I was still worth being seen.

And though nothing about my outer world changed overnight, something deep within me did.

It was as if my spirit guides whispered, Look closer. It’s time.
And for the first time in years… I did.

I asked for a divorce.
Not because I had everything figured out, but because I couldn’t live in darkness anymore.
Because I finally saw a sliver of light, and I chose to walk toward it.

And then, just as I was beginning to rise… I was knocked down again.
The contract I was working under ended without warning.
No conversation. No explanation.
Just quiet erasure, engineered by those with more power, more ties to the system.

It felt like betrayal.

But now, I understand:

That loss wasn’t punishment.
It was protection.
It was life, severing my dependence on external validation.

And what happened next?

Magic.

I found a new team.
One that didn’t just hire me, they held me.
They gave me space, belonging, and purpose.
They reminded me of who I had been all along: a leader.
Not just by title, but by presence. By heart. By impact.

I began to lead again, not from pain, but from wholeness.
Not to prove myself, but to express myself.

That season of my life moved me through Michael Beckwith’s four levels of consciousness:

Life happened to me: in fear, betrayal, and survival.
Life happened for me: through unexpected mirrors, sparks of hope, and the fallout that forced clarity.
Life happened through me: as I spoke, created, connected, and led from my true center.
And now, life happens as me: my work, my relationships, my healing — all extensions of who I’ve become.

To the leaders and founders who feel like the world has gone dark, who are trying to hold it all together while quietly breaking inside…

This is your invitation.
Not to rise like before.
But to rise truer than ever.

Let life happen as you. Because that version of you?
She doesn’t burn out.
She burns bright.