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For 20 years, I played the game.

On the outside, everything looked great—thriving career, long-term relationship, two beautiful daughters. I checked all the boxes.

But deep down, I was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. There was a quiet ache I couldn’t ignore anymore.

I no longer felt truly seen or deeply loved. And, truthfully, I didn’t feel fully alive.

I had spent years doing what I thought I was supposed to do—trying to be the right kind of partner, the dependable mother, the successful professional. I was following the script, wearing the mask, doing my best to keep everything running smoothly. But somewhere along the way, I had disappeared.

Leaving the relationship was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. I wasn’t just walking away from a person—I was stepping away from the version of myself I had carefully constructed. And I had no idea what would come next.

I Gave Myself Space Instead of Filling It

There was no grand plan. No immediate reinvention. Just space.

Instead of rushing to fill the void, I slowed down. I began rebuilding from the inside out. I started asking questions I had never given myself permission to ask:

What do I really want? What does love feel like when it’s deeply connected, reciprocated, healthy, and whole? Who am I when I’m not burying my feelings, trying to please everyone else, performing for approval?

I moved my body. I cleared out old beliefs. I whispered to the universe each night:

“Bring me someone who will see me, love me, and meet me where I am—just as I will them.”

I said it every day for months. Then one day, I stopped. I figured maybe it wasn’t meant for me. Maybe my role was simply to help others find it.

And then, right when I let go, love appeared in its truest form. He entered not as a rescue, but as a resonance.

The Love I Didn’t Know Was Possible

It wasn’t about being saved—it was about being met. This love didn’t arrive to complete me but to mirror the self I had finally returned to.

It was a love that felt safe and expansive at the same time. One that didn’t require shrinking or pretending. I fell madly in love. We got married. I left my home country, a successful practice, and the comfort of everything I had ever known to start fresh in California.

It was terrifying. And it was worth it.

What I Know Now

We live in a world that rewards women for self-abandonment. Be the cool girl. Be the nice one. Don’t rock the boat. Keep it together.

I’ve watched so many women—friends, clients, myself—get stuck in relationships, jobs, and identities that quietly eat away at their joy. We settle in careers that drain us, environments that don’t reflect our values, and routines that keep us playing small. We’re praised for enduring. For staying. For settling. But that’s not the same as living.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking, “Am I doing this right?” and started asking, “Is this right for me?”

That shift changed everything.

If You Feel the Pull, Trust It

This isn’t about reckless leaps. It’s about conscious ones.

The ones where your soul taps you on the shoulder and whispers, “There’s more.”

More truth. More connection. More peace. More of you.

If you’re reading this and feel something stirring—like maybe it’s time to stop playing a role and start living a life that actually fits—I want you to know: You’re not alone.

You don’t have to have it all figured out.

But you do get to choose you.

There’s more. More than what you’ve been taught to settle for. More than the masks you’ve worn, the rules you’ve followed, or the roles you’ve played to make others comfortable.

You matter. Your desires, your voice, your wholeness. Not just in how you show up for others, but in how deeply you choose to show up for yourself.

You are allowed to want more.

To need more.

To become more.

And you don’t have to earn it by suffering first.

You are worthy—now.

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