About

I was the kid who reorganized her room and bought new planners for fun.

Straight As. Extra credit. National Honor Society. I was obsessed with being good—and even better at being the best. I picked a “smart” major (biomedical engineering), took on leadership roles, interned, volunteered, did all the things. Gold stars? I collected them like it was my job.

And for a while, it worked.

I was praised, promoted, and respected. I got hired for jobs that looked impressive on paper. I hit all the “milestones.” And still—I was constantly overbooked, quietly anxious, and secretly disappointed that doing everything right still didn’t feel like enough.

I never saw my parents rest growing up. Productivity was expected and rest was lazy. And even after I left home, that story stuck: if I wasn’t producing something—work, meals, results, checklists—I wasn’t worthy.

It caught up to me.

Motherhood cracked me open. Starting a business rocked me. My body rebelled. My spirit called bullshit. And one day, in the middle of a to-do list spiral, I heard this quiet, dangerous question:

Do I want the goals I’m trying to reach? Am I only worthy if I’m working hard?

So I burned it down.

The expectations. The perfectionism. The hyper-productive version of success I inherited and never questioned. I let it all go—painfully, imperfectly, and on purpose.

In the void, I rebuilt. Slowly. With astrology and Human Design. With journaling and science-backed habit change. With permission to be human, not just productive.

And that’s where the magic started. I stopped performing success and started living it. For real. On my own terms.