Most things in life are pretty simple, but as the complex humans that we are, we tend to complicate them way more than necessary. These three experiences revealed simple yet profound truths of life. They reshaped the way I live and became foundational mindsets I live by.

Last week’s journal explored what it means to live fully with the wisdom and opportunity that emerge in our 40’s. Later that week, we celebrated my daughter’s 21st birthday. During celebrations for her milestone birthday, I couldn’t help but think about the powerful 20’s and 30’s that build the foundation for who we become in our 40’s and beyond.

Midlife, the next chapter, the second mountain, the last half… call it what you want, but please, stop cringing, and please stop telling the tired story that life is over! I hear it time and time again in regards to every aspect of life: once you hit forty, it’s all downhill from there. The only thing sad and tired about life in the forties is this mindset!

My journals are often a reflection of mindsets, strategies, and habits I’ve developed over the last several years to create a purpose-driven and fulfilling life. We’ve explored topics like creating white space, fierce commitment, and cultivating strength, just to name a few. But equally important to what I’ve added to my life are the things I choose to exclude.

I have a good friend who was by my side in the early days of grieving and at the beginning of my healing journey. He was especially present when I signed up for a deep transformational coaching workshop—one of the first steps I took in my personal growth journey. He called me after reading last week’s Journal and we shared a heartfelt and reminiscent conversation about all the emotions, doubts, and needs that are so often left unsaid when we talk about self-growth and transformation.

For far longer than I'd like to admit, I believed that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I was convinced that I was "broken" and desperately needed to "fix myself" to feel valuable and worthy. This was my mindset as I muddled through years in survival mode, trying to heal through loss and grief.

The most common thing I hear from potential clients is some version of, "Do you have a hack for this situation I'm in?" or "I just need something quick to get past this issue." I get it. We all crave quick fixes to eliminate whatever crisis we're facing and bring us back to comfort. But what I've learned is this: the question isn't whether I have a shortcut for you. The real question is whether you actually want comfort, or if you want something deeper. Because those two things—they're not the same at all.

I often hear clients say the same four words at the start of our work together: “I’m not happy.” They come to me with seemingly full lives and all of the things—material extravagances, thriving and successful careers, meaningful relationships, a full social calendar—but they consistently claim that they're not happy. Despite having "everything," they still feel unfulfilled and unhappy.

Imagine this recurring scene in my house: whenever I ask my kids what they would like for dinner, the answer is often, "I don't know… whatever you want." But the moment I start suggesting options, they're suddenly full of opinions and quick to say, "No, not that… I don't want that… Anything but that!" Sound familiar Isn't it interesting that they can't seem to articulate what they do want, but they can very clearly and quickly express what they don't want?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the space between stimulus and response, where awareness, clarity, and self-trust emerge. This week, I want to take it further—into white space. That’s where magic happens: clarity replaces busyness, intuition grows louder, and overthinking dissolves. It’s uncomfortable at first, doing nothing when we’re used to constant motion. But in this space, we discover self-trust, expanded creativity, and true productivity. White space isn’t empty—it’s where our most optimal selves come alive, ready to lead with presence, purpose, and power.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the truth behind healing: that it is a choice and requires discipline. And Frankl's words added another essential layer of understanding—not only of the path of healing, but of true freedom. “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” He made it sound so simple—choose your response, and you'll experience growth and freedom. A simple sentence, easy enough to understand. But when I tried to apply this mindset to my life, I hit a wall. Over and over again!

If there's one thing I truly indulge in religiously, it's my vacations! Whether I'm exploring a new city, sunbathing in a beach town, or spending a quick 24 hours in Vegas, I soak it all in. And as much as I stick to an exercise routine at home, I NEVER work out on vacations—until recently, when everything changed.

When is it time to put down what we've been carrying? As we move through life, we naturally collect things—souvenirs, memorabilia, treasured family heirlooms. All of these are good and meaningful, bringing smiles to our faces when we see them, but what about the other things we pick up along the way?

Have you ever felt a spark of curiosity or a burst of inspiration, only to have it immediately squashed by that annoying, scared voice in your head? The voice that says, "Don't bother… it's not important… you'll look ridiculous… NOT TODAY!" I know that voice all too well—for years, it was the loudest voice in my life.

As a woman in her mid-forties, having experienced marriage, motherhood, and a deep desire to do good in the world, I truly believed I had a firm grasp on my core life values. I had lived enough, experienced enough, and achieved enough to know myself, right? What I discovered challenged everything I thought I knew about myself.

A couple of months ago, I gifted myself a two-week personal retreat. After a year of constant movement, filled with both personal milestones and professional momentum, I decided it was time to slow down and reset in true alignment with myself. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is permission to pause.

Last week, one of my daughters came to me to say she had decided not to attend a party she was invited to. Before I had a chance to respond, she launched into a lengthy explanation of all the reasons why she wasn't going. And there it was again—this almost reflexive need to validate our decisions with perfect logic, even when no one is questioning it.

"You're so strong!"—I've been told this numerous times over the last several years as people get to know me and learn about my life. Emotional strength is an incredible quality to possess, and I'm grateful for the acknowledgement, but the truth is that strength didn't show up at my doorstep when I was faced with challenging circumstances.