“You’re Jessie May!” she said.

“Yeah,” I said smiling. “How do we know each other?

“We don’t. But I used to come to your events.” She paused. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate the way you always showed up so real and vulnerable.”

I stood there for a second. Because she didn’t even know how much I needed to hear that.

Since I started my first business in 2011, I’ve carried a story about myself that I come across as too put together and polished. For years, I told myself that my perfectionism gets in the way of people being able to relate and connect with me.

And to be fair, that story didn’t come from nowhere.

I grew up without very much money. And I was terrified of my friends finding me out. I mean terrified - like, I had literal nightmares about it. So I learned to look the part. I hung out with kids who had more than we did and I made myself look like I belonged. It was a survival mechanism to keep me safe.

On top of that, I took responsibility for other people’s mental health and happiness at a very young age. I was the emotional rock, the one who kept it together so the people around me could be ok. It was a lot of weight to carry into adulthood without realizing I was carrying it.

When I started my first business in 2011, I carried that fear of being “found out” and the need to be seen as “put together” with me into how I showed up for my community. I wanted to be seen as successful and responsible and the one who had all the right answers. I feared that if I didn’t, no one would respect or want to work with me and my business would fail. That I would fail. And I was determined to prove to myself and the world that I would create a different story than the one I’d been handed. But underneath the polished outer layer, my inside world was filled with self doubt and feelings of not enoughness.

Eventually I began to realize that it’s actually through vulnerability that we create connection and trust. This even became the foundational message in my personal branding business that I ran for 10+ years. The more of your truth you can bring into your brand, the more successful your business will be. The more you allow people to see you and know you, the more clients you’ll attract and greater impact you’ll be able to make.

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This made sense to me. I know it’s how I felt about other people and brands. I loved when I saw their messy, vulnerable sides. I felt more connection and more trust, and was more likely to work with them when I did.

And even though I was teaching this, it was a constant edge to show up that way myself. To be seen in my vulnerability was scary and there was still a part of me that believed I’d be rejected if I did.

But they say we teach what we need to learn. And so I gave myself constant opportunities to practice what I needed to learn the most. I challenged myself to share openly, to be vulnerable and to even let people see my messiness sometimes.

And then I closed that business and discovered there was a lot more here for me to unpack.

When perimenopause arrived it brought me face to face with the places that being the “put together perfectionist” were still getting in my way. All the places in my life where I was still holding it together unraveled fast. This was next-level falling apart, and I’m honestly glad that I gave myself the privacy to go through this without feeling like I had to make it relatable in my newsletter or social media.

While I didn’t share the depths of my process publicly, I did share my experience with a women’s medicine circle I was part of that held me and loved me through it. It was the most healing experience because finally, that part of me that still believed that if I really showed up in all of my mess, that I would surely lose connection got proven wrong. I completely fell apart and was loved even more.

And in a different way, Lisa, the woman I met at the conference gave me evidence of that too.

Another reminder that the story I’d been carrying about myself wasn’t the whole picture.

The truth is that there was a part of me that believed I had to hold it all together to be loved and respected. Those were survival strategies that came from my childhood experiences and nervous system trying to protect me the best way it knew how.

But what I’m realizing now is that even when I was still afraid of being fully seen, I was showing up in a way that could be felt. Enough that someone remembered it and came up to me 3 years later to tell me about it.

So instead of being critical of my past self for not being further along, I want to acknowledge her for doing better than I gave her credit for. She was doing better than she realized.

And maybe the gift that this healing journey has given me is the realization that love and connection have been available to me all along.

That we don’t have to be perfect and get everything right to still leave an impression.

And I’ll be honest with you, stepping into Alchemy & Ash is bringing up all of this again, that old fear of being seen before I’m ready and the part of me that still wants to have all the answers before I move forward.

Healing doesn’t mean we never have to look at the thing again. It just means we recognize it faster. And we have more choice about what we do with it.

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Is there a story you’ve been carrying about yourself that might only be part of the picture?

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But there’s an elephant in the room that we haven’t talked about yet.

What happens when you’re in the void during the year of the Firehorse?

Because right now the collective energy is moving very fast. And the void asks us to go slow and stay present with what’s unfolding.

The truth is, we can’t ignore the current collective energy we exist in. While we’re each in our own process with our own timing, we’re also part of the whole. And if you’re sensitive like me, there’s no doubt that the energy around us will impact our personal experience of the void.

So let’s get curious about this. How can Fire Horse energy support us through the void and where can it pull us off course? And what does it mean that so many of us are moving through a personal void at the same moment humanity is moving through one collectively.

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Fire Horse energy

I’m not an astrologer or an expert in Chinese zodiac. But I am a total astrology geek and spend a lot of my free time reading and learning about it. So here’s what I can share.

Fire Horse energy is bold and free-spirited.

Think momentum, action and breaking from convention. It’s a kind of “leap and the net will appear” vibe. Fire Horse years are known to bring fast change along with collective and personal transformation.

And the reason why this particular year is getting so much attention compared to other Chinese Zodiac years is because the Horse’s fixed element is already fire. So when a Fire year lands on a Horse year, you get double fire energy.

While Fire Horse energy can be catalytic, liberating, and awakening, it also has a shadow side.

The shadow side of Fire Horse energy

In its shadow expression, Fire Horse energy can feel impulsive, impatient, reactive, volatile and exhausting, like everything is moving faster than our nervous systems can actually process.

If we’re experiencing a personal void right now, Fire Horse energy can pull us out of our process before we’re ready. Watching everyone around us pivot, reinvent and create when we don’t have answers yet can make us feel like we should be further along. And it can tempt us to force clarity before what wants to come through has actually landed.

But the void asks us to do something different: to be present with the not knowing. To sit in stillness and listen to what emerges from the space between all the doing.

The question is, how do we honor that during the year of the Fire Horse?

I think the first step is learning to consciously work with this energy, so it supports us through the void, instead of rushing us out of our own timing.

The medicine of Fire Horse energy

If we stay connected to ourselves and create the space to listen instead of react, Fire Horse energy can actually move us through the void faster than we would in another year, with enough momentum that we don’t get lost in it.

This energy is catalytic.

Its gift is that it can accelerate awakening.

When we’re in the year of the Fire Horse, we may see through illusions faster. Whispers that have been trying to get our attention for years may suddenly become impossible to ignore. Misalignments we’ve been tolerating in our relationships, work or health may suddenly feel unbearable.

Places where we’ve been moving through life on autopilot may begin demanding change.

For those of us who’ve spent years stuck in overthinking or waiting for just the right moment, Fire Horse energy can become the thing that finally gets us moving.

A personal void within a collective one

Even though the energy is moving fast around us, you can probably also feel that collectively we’re in an in between space.

The structures and ways of living that once felt solid are changing fast and what’s replacing them isn’t established yet.

The days of performing success and hustling are over. Truths are being revealed that change the way we see the people and the world around us.

We recently entered Uranus in Gemini, a 7 year era that’s bringing huge changes in communication, technology and intelligence. And we’re right at the start of it.

During all of this, we’re going through perimenopause and midlife, which can send us into our own personal void where the person we were starts to change and our new identity hasn’t replaced it yet.

This can feel disorienting. It can be hard to tell if our life is falling apart because of changes happening inside of us or if we’re having a natural response to the world collapsing around us.

I believe it’s both.

And that there’s actually wisdom in the timing.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that so many of us are moving through perimenopause and midlife during a time when humanity itself is going through a massive transition.

Midlife already asks us to loosen our grip on old identities by having us question the roles we’ve performed and the expectations we inherited. It naturally strips away what no longer feels true.

And the world is about to ask that of everyone. Actually, it already is. We’re just doing it first.

So if you’ve been feeling your purpose shifting and the things that used to get you out of bed in the morning just don’t light you up like they used to, it may be that nothing is wrong.

Maybe the parts of us that no longer fit are falling away because we’re being prepared for a new role in the world that’s emerging. And we get there by honoring where we actually are right now.

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Honoring your own timing

Even within the collective energy of the Fire Horse, we’re still moving through this season in our own way and in our own timing.

Some of us are just beginning to wake up to the fact that the person we’ve spent our entire life trying to become no longer fits. Others are deep in the void and can’t see their next step. Some are starting to feel the first glimmers of what’s next. And some are finally clear enough to take aligned action.

None of those places are wrong.

One of the biggest challenges of being in the void during a Fire Horse year is that the speed of the collective energy can make us feel like we should already be further along. The Fire Horse can move us through faster, and that’s a gift. The work is staying connected to ourselves enough that the momentum serves our process rather than hijacking it.

So what does that actually look like?

For me it starts in the morning. Before anyone wakes up and before getting sucked into my phone, to-do lists or other people’s agendas, I go on a walk and then I meditate. This is the most important thing I do to stay connected with myself and not get swept away in the fast paced energy around me.

I go to sound baths when I can. During a sound bath, my nervous system can finally exhale and drop into stillness underneath my thinking mind, where what wants to emerge can come through my body instead of being forced through my head. My friend, Janis, leads a beautiful weekly sound bath in Louisville, Colorado, if you’re local and want to attend with me sometime.

If sound baths aren’t accessible for you, humming, chanting or even lying still and letting music move through you can work. The point is getting out of your head and back into your body, where deeper knowing can come through.

I spend time hiking, paddle boarding or just sitting in nature because mother earth deeply honors her own timing and being with her reminds me that I can too.

Plant medicine became an important part of how I stayed connected with myself through the void. I never thought psilocybin would be something I’d work with, and now I can’t imagine my path without it. It has helped free me from lifelong patterns that kept me spinning in second-guessing and fear. Now I can hear my truth under all the noise and actually trust it.

It took me years to learn, but I listen to my body. For most of my life I overrode what my body was telling me, which led me to burnout and resentment. That’s a story for another day. Now I follow each little yes forward, even when I don’t know where it’s leading. And when my body says no, I stay with that too.

And maybe most importantly, this isn’t a path we’re meant to walk alone.

The void can feel isolating, especially when it seems like everyone else is moving quickly and confidently around you. But healing often happens through co-regulation. Through safe people and honest conversations. For me this has looked like women’s circles where I’m reminded that I’m not the only one experiencing what I’m feeling and that I don’t have to rush to become someone new overnight.

Because the truth is, even in a Fire Horse year, the next version of who we’re becoming can’t be forced through pressure and urgency. It’s something we have to allow space to unfold.

The Fire Horse may accelerate the process.

But the void still needs our presence.

And our timing is still sacred.

Invitation to share:

What's one thing that helps you stay connected to yourself when the energy around you is moving fast?

Leave a comment

We were never meant to walk through perimenopause and midlife alone.

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If you’ve found yourself here, there’s a good chance that something in your life is shifting.

Whether that’s a body that suddenly feels unfamiliar, a change in career, the end of a marriage, an empty nest or the unraveling of who you thought you were and what you thought you wanted.

I believe that perimenopause and midlife have the potential to awaken us to a life that’s truer and more aligned than ever before. And I also know, from personal experience, that the path to getting there can feel really disorienting and lonely.

That’s why I’m creating Alchemy and Ash.

This is a space to be seen, heard and celebrated as we shed parts of our identities and lives that no longer fit and step into what’s next with more freedom and peace.

Here you’ll find guidance, resources and a community that can be by your side whenever you need us.

It’s nice to meet you

My name is Jessie May, and I created Alchemy and Ash after going through the darkest time of my life: the identity crisis that came with a perimenopause diagnosis at 39.

✨ You’re welcome to read more of that story here.

Looking back, I now see this time as a spiritual awakening because it freed me from patterns and emotional burdens I’d been carrying my entire life. But in the middle of it, my life felt like it was falling apart.

I was questioning everything I once believed, grieving the parts of my life that no longer fit and letting go of the version of myself I had worked so hard to be. This process was deeply painful, and learning to stay with myself through it took everything I had.

By staying with myself in the unknown, a spark of inspiration eventually began to come through. The idea for Alchemy and Ash first came to me as a whisper that I initially ignored because it wasn’t the logical choice. But the whispers got louder until eventually I couldn’t ignore them. And now here we are!

Since choosing this path, my life and work are flowing with more ease and alignment than I’ve ever experienced. It feels so good to be in the world from this place!

I’m really grateful to be here and I’m grateful you’re here too.

What we’ll offer in this space

Stories from my path (personal posts, podcasts, notes, lives)

I’ve spent the past 4 years on a deep healing journey. At first I didn’t have words for my experience, so I took a step away from sharing about my life online. But now I’m ready to talk about it. I’ll share what I’ve learned looking back, and sometimes from the middle of what’s still unfolding. Always from my heart to yours.

Resourced (live conversations with guest practitioners and guides)

We’ll be hosting a regular series called “Resourced” to help us feel deeply supported through this time. These conversations will cover topics like hormones, grief and identity loss, sex and desire, sleep, relationships, money and financial sovereignty, nervous system regulation, the astrology of midlife, shadow work, plant medicine, and a whole lot more. The practical and the spiritual, together.

Threshold Stories (live conversations with women, sharing their real experiences)

When I started going through perimenopause and was overwhelmed by all of it, listening to other women’s stories was one of the things that helped most. I want to bring in real women, maybe you, to share their experiences. Not just about your body changes, although that is welcome and needed, but also about the shifts in relationships, career and identity you’ve navigated during this time. You don’t have to have everything figured out for your story to matter. We want to hear the honest middle just as much as we want to be inspired from the other side.

Moon Circles (monthly Zoom gatherings)

Moon Circles are a space to share what you’re going through with women who understand what this feels like. We gather around the new and full moons because this season of life often moves in cycles too, with periods of uncertainty, release, grief and becoming.

New Moon Circles are where we honor the space between who we were and who we’re becoming without rushing to fix or force what comes next.

Full Moon Circles are a place to speak the truths we can no longer hide. To express the rage or grief that needs somewhere to land and to release the roles and patterns we’re no longer willing to carry.

In every circle, you’ll be invited to share, to be witnessed and celebrated by women walking this path alongside you. And if sitting quietly feels right for you that day, that’s welcome too.

To start, we’ll offer one circle per month, alternating between New Moon and Full Moon Circles. Depending on interest, we may expand to two circles per month in the future.

Who this space is for

If you’re anything like me, and the many women I’ve talked with on hiking trails and in coffee shops, you’re likely carrying a whole lot more than you let on.

You’re questioning things you used to be certain about. You’re grieving doors closing and chapters ending. You’re starting to wonder who you are beneath all the roles and identities you’ve built your life around. And you’re tired of pretending you have it all together.

This space is for the woman who is willing to look at herself with honesty and curiosity. Who is beginning to notice her patterns as they rise to the surface, and is brave enough to stay with them.

If you’re looking for a purely clinical or symptom-focused approach, there are wonderful spaces for those things and this probably isn’t it. While we will definitely touch on those things here through our Resourced series, Alchemy and Ash is for women who sense that something deep is changing beneath the surface and who want a place to explore that honestly, alongside other women who are feeling it too.

It’s a space for you whether you’re approaching perimenopause, in the middle of it, or finding your way on the other side. All voices are welcome here and we can learn so much from each other no matter where we are on the path.

How this works

For now, most of what you’ll find here is free, including Stories from My Path, Threshold Stories, and our Resourced series.

Moon Circles are open to everyone, with a sliding scale exchange. You’ll be able to sign up for those through my website soon!

I may open a paid subscription through Substack in the future, but for now I want this space to grow slowly and intentionally, shaped by what this community actually needs.

Will you help shape this space?

My biggest desire is to create a community that feels deeply nurturing and supportive. Would you mind taking 2-3 minutes to fill out this survey to help shape what this community becomes?

Take the survey

More reading

For some of us, it’s a relationship that starts feeling forced, a career or business that no longer brings us joy, or children leaving home and taking the identity of motherhood with them. Maybe it’s a body that suddenly feels unfamiliar, the loss of a parent, or a long-held version of success that no longer matters.

Maybe it’s all of these things. At once.

We fall into a place where the life we knew and the person we were starts to unravel. Our sense of identity, along with the things that used to give us purpose and meaning dissolve, and there’s nothing there to fill the space.

Usually when this happens we panic and try to put our life back together again as fast as possible.

Because sitting in the space between who we were and who we’re becoming, between the life we had and the life that hasn’t arrived yet, is really freakin’ uncomfortable. It can feel like something is terribly wrong that needs fixing fast.

If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone, and this experience actually has a name. It’s called the Void.

The Void may seem dark and empty, like nothing is happening in there. But it’s actually a magical place, full of potential, that’s inviting us to transform.

The question is, will we show up for it?

Will we stay in the void long enough to be transformed?

Or will we try to escape because the discomfort feels unbearable?

Gifts from the void I didn’t ask for

When we get brave enough to stay with ourselves through the void, slowly releasing our grip on the old identities, roles, beliefs and patterns that have been running our lives for decades, the void can offer us many gifts. In fact, it has the potential to completely awaken us so we can be free from the emotional burdens we’ve been carrying our entire lives.

But it’s not easy. Sometimes these old parts of ourselves have to get really loud and really painful to get us to finally see and release them.

I was in the void for at least 3 years. It was set off by burn out from a business I had wrapped my entire identity and self worth in, while at the same time discovering I was deep in perimenopause and couldn’t have children.

For me, the void wasn’t a linear passage with a clear beginning, middle, and end. It came in waves. There were moments when I would start to find my footing again, only for another wave to rise and bring me face to face with something else that needed to be released or transformed. I stayed with myself through this passage, and within it, I experienced many awakenings.

In the void, layer by layer, the things I couldn’t carry with me into my becoming began to fall away, and in the space between, blessings I never expected began to unfold.

What falls away and the gifts that come through will look different for each of us. Bellow is what it looked like for me.

There are so many of us walking through perimenopause alone. If someone you know needs to hear this, please share it with them.

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What fell away for me in the void

Emotional armor

My entire life I had unconsciously protected myself with an invisible shield. It kept me from belonging, always on the outside, looking in, longing to feel deep love and connection with others, but never being able to fully experience it.

Being the “Good Girl”

I developed a pattern early in childhood of feeling like I always had to do and say everything right. As a child I got straight A’s, was in all the advanced classes, excelled in theater, art, music and sports and never rebelled. As an adult, that turned into perfectionism and an inner critic I could never satisfy, no matter how much I tried. The feeling of never being enough followed me everywhere.

Taking responsibility for other people’s problems

Growing up with instability and chaos around me, I learned early that being responsible kept me safe. I took responsibility for everything, even situations and emotions that didn’t belong to me. As time went on, this responsibility became heavier and heavier to carry.

The belief that my worth was tied to what I produce

For most of my life, I was convinced that my worth was measured by what I produce. Whether that be a baby, a business or a certain amount of money. If I didn’t produce these things, I felt like my existence didn’t even matter.

Second guessing

Since the age of seven, I chronically second-guessed everything I said and did. While I may have looked confident on the outside, my inner world was a chaotic swirl of thoughts about whether I’d said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, been too much or not enough.

Agony over whether or not to become a mother

I spent over a decade spinning on the decision of whether or not to have kids. I wanted to want to be a mom, but deep down, it wasn’t a full body yes. And I resisted that for a very long time. I wondered what was wrong with me or how my life could have purpose if I didn’t become a mom.

Painful patterns in my marriage

It took over a decade of marriage to realize that I had somehow attracted a person who was pressing on every single unhealed place inside me. At first I had no idea that’s what was happening. But in the void, those patterns got so loud and so undeniable that I couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Carrying my mom’s unhealed pain

From an early age, I made it my job to make my mom happy. And I carried that job well into adulthood, getting pulled into cycles of rescuing, then collapsing into guilt and feelings of failure when nothing I tried ever seemed to work.

My business

My business was everything to me: my purpose, my meaning, my sense of identity and self worth. It was also sucking the life out of me and feeding patterns that needed to change. I held on as long as I possibly could. I really didn’t want the void to take this too. But when I finally let go, that’s when some of the biggest magic began to come through.

What I received from the void

The ability to feel my feelings

I had spent my adult and teenage years stuffing my feelings and holding it all together. But in the void, something shifted and the lid I’d kept so tightly screwed on came off. Now I could feel love, connection, grief, peace, rage, frustration, awe, excitement, joy … all of it came flooding in. I started to feel the breadth of my human experience and it felt so good.

Soul-filling friendships

I created life-long friendships within the void. Friendships built on deep honesty. On being seen right inside of my mess. It felt amazing to finally be able to drop the mask of perfection and realize that I could experience love and connection by being my unfiltered, imperfect self.

The ability to hear my body’s messages

Sure, I understood the concept of listening to my body but for years I said yes when I meant no and worked when I needed rest. Now I was developing an embodied awareness that was impossible to ignore. I stopped abandoning myself and started honoring the clear needs my body communicated.

Freedom

One of the greatest gifts I received from the void was freedom. Freedom from my relentless inner critic and from the responsibilities I’d been carrying for decades that were never actually mine. What moved in to fill that space was an inner okayness that wasn’t tied to what I produced, how together I seemed, or whether I could fix what was hurting the people I loved.

A truer marriage

There were moments in the void where I thought it was going to take my marriage too. But I’m grateful that we were both willing to show up, to look at our roles in the painful dynamics we had created over the past 18 years, and to do the work, both individually and together, to create a new path forward.

Peace around not becoming a mom

The question of motherhood that had once taken up so much space no longer ruled my mind. I learned to trust that my life could still be full and meaningful without having children. And I began to feel gratitude for my freedom and for the many ways I am here to love, create and offer value beyond the role of being a mother.

Intuitive awakening

I have always had strong intuition, but years of second-guessing myself had drowned it out. In the void, that changed. I started receiving downloads in my dreams and waking life of very specific names, numbers and symbols that pointed me to answers I’d been searching for my entire life. I finally found peace around the most painful things I’d been carrying for decades.

Alchemy & Ash

Alchemy & Ash was the new form my gifts wanted to take. It came through in whispers at first, and I pushed them away because leaving my prior business that I spent 15 years building wasn’t the logical choice. But eventually, honoring what wanted to come through stopped feeling optional. Letting go to make space for this was one of the most painful things I did in the void. And once I did, everything started falling into alignment in a way that felt almost effortless.

Ability to see magic around me

I used to walk through life too busy to notice what was right in front of me. But now I was waking up. One day I’d been deep in research for the Alchemy & Ash brand, deciding between a butterfly and a dragonfly for the logo. I chose the dragonfly, closed my computer and headed out for a walk. As soon as I stepped outside, there was a dragonfly on the sidewalk in front of me. Before, I would have walked straight past it. But now I knew. The universe was telling me I was on the right path.

Supporting ourselves through the void

For me, supporting myself through the void looked like creating space and allowing for my process. Slow mornings meditating and journaling, walks in nature, road trips in my camper van, deep conversations with soul sisters, sessions with my therapist, and plant medicine journeys where I intentionally worked to unravel old patterns and create new ones.

It also looked like being in community. I don’t think I could have worked through some of the lessons I needed to learn without other people, because so many of those lessons were relational.

I still showed up for my day-to-day life and responsibilities. But I let go of forcing clarity on my next steps or striving toward goals I wasn’t even sure I wanted anymore. I stopped trying to get somewhere and just let myself be in it.

There was a lot of grief. A lot of crying. And a lot of letting go. For me, it was a three year process. For you, it might look completely different, and that’s okay.

What falls away for you, and what comes through, will be specific to your life and your becoming. There’s no template for this and there’s no doing it wrong. So I invite you to release any idea about how long this should take or what it should look like.

What I can tell you is that staying, really staying, with yourself through this passage is one of the most courageous things you’ll ever do. And the woman on the other side is worth every uncomfortable moment it takes to get there.

Invitation to share:

If you’re in the void right now, what’s the hardest part?

And if you’ve been through it, what’s one gift you received that you didn’t expect?

Leave a comment

We were never meant to walk through perimenopause and midlife alone.

Help me co-create a space where we don’t have to.

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At the time, I didn’t have a name for what I was going through, but looking back, I can see that I was clearly in the void that so many women in their perimenopause years experience. It’s that liminal space where who we were has unraveled and who we’re becoming hasn’t taken shape yet.

I wrote that journal entry from my Air Bnb bedroom where I was attending a 3-day retreat weekend to support myself through this painful unraveling.

As I looked up from my journal, a small plant with roots extending into the air, caught my attention. It was the air plant that my husband gave me as a gift before I left for the weekend.

As I sat there having a moment with the sweet little being, I realized something: this plant didn’t need to be rooted in soil to thrive.

What?! How is that even possible? I thought.

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I went on to write …

“What if I could be like the air plant? What if I don’t need to be “rooted”? What if I could thrive without certainty, without knowing who I am, what I want or what I believe?

Have I been striving for the wrong things all along?

I’ve always lived with the idea that to thrive, to be ok, to be a worthy person, I must be grounded, have clear direction and a solid sense of who I am and what I believe. In my mind, there was no other option, that’s just what I should aim for if I want to be someone worth anything.

But where did that idea even come from? Is it just my ego trying to survive?

What if I could be more free, happy and content by not grasping so desperately to a sense of self? What if by being “unrooted” I could actually thrive more because I could be flexible, open and unattached to expectations?

What if my value doesn’t come from being certain, solid and grounded, but from somewhere else entirely?”

I had more questions than I had answers, and for the first time, that felt okay. The questions opened me to something new, something that made it possible to sit in the discomfort of the void and exist without the identities that had always given me comfort.

That morning, after I closed my journal and before I walked downstairs to be with the group, I drew a card: The Bardo. The place between. The card read: “The Bardo suspends us in spaciousness for just long enough to open us to higher wisdom.”

That was me. Suspended in space, and for the first time, not fighting it. I breathed in deep and felt a sense of calm flow through my body.

I opened my journal one last time to write:

“I feel like I’m on the brink of a breakthrough but I have to shed old skin to get there. I cannot stay the same and become who I’m meant to be.”

Letting go can be painful, but it can also open us up to possibilities we couldn’t have seen while still holding on.

If something (or everything) in your life feels like it’s coming apart right now…
If you’re questioning things you used to feel so certain about…

Can you let yourself be there, even just a little longer, without rushing to fix it?

It might just be that nothing needs to be fixed. That the magic unfolding for you in the space between is exactly what’s needed for who you’re becoming.

In my next piece, I’ll share about the magic that unfolded for me when I stayed in the void long enough to discover what wanted to emerge.

Invitation to share:

Did any part of this resonate with you? I’d love to hear what it brought up for you.

Leave a comment

We were never meant to walk through perimenopause and midlife alone.

Help me co-create a space where we don’t have to.

Add your voice here

For over a decade, the question of motherhood had caused me a lot of emotional turmoil. I wanted to want to be a mom, but something inside me wasn’t a full yes. I had fears and resistances I couldn’t fully explain.

So in a final attempt to make this decision, I enrolled in a course called The Motherhood Clarity Course, led by a therapist who had guided women through this decision for decades. I showed up. I did the journaling prompts and participated in the discussions. I began uncovering the layers of my resistance and learning about my childhood experiences that were making this decision so complicated for me.

But something else was happening underneath all of it that I didn’t have a name for yet.

I started experiencing a flood of strange symptoms:

brain fog so thick I would lose words mid-sentence, walk into rooms and forget why I was there, and sit at my desk staring at nothing.

Anxiety took over my mind and body.

I was snapping at my husband over things that used to roll right off my shoulders.

I was hypersensitive to everything my friends would say or do.

I missed a meeting with the same client three times in a row (Thankfully she gave me grace!).

Then I sunk into the darkest depression of my life.

I felt like I was losing my mind, like the person I had always known myself to be had disappeared, and I didn’t know who was left.

At the same time, my cycle, which had always been regular, was changing. I went to see my doctor and got my bloodwork reviewed. She looked at me and said: “You’re not having kids. You’re in perimenopause, and your FSH levels are postmenopausal.”

I was 39 years old.

In my mind, all I knew about menopause was that it was a far off date when my period would stop coming. That’s about it.

But perimenopause? And all these symptoms that were derailing my life? I had no clue this was coming until it hit me in the face.

In an instant, I went from agonizing over the decision: “do I become a mom or not?“ to having that decision made for me.

Now you might be wondering why this even mattered if I wasn’t sure I wanted to become a mom in the first place. There is SO MUCH to unpack around this, which I’ll share in future posts, but in short, this is why: for over a decade, I had poured everything into my business. I had meshed my entire sense of identity, purpose, and meaning with it. But my business was burning me out.

And when I was told I couldn’t have kids at the same time that my business became unsustainable, I was left without the two paths I had been navigating between. Without the identity I had constructed. Without anywhere to land.

Who was I if I wasn’t a business owner? Who was I if I couldn’t become a mom? What was left?”

The rug of meaning, purpose, self-worth, and value had been pulled out from under my feet, all at once.

The grief became crushing. I felt like time had run out, like I had failed. Like I was just getting started at life, and yet somehow it was already over. I was experiencing debilitating mental and emotional symptoms on top of overwhelming health fears.

My attention shifted from the motherhood decision almost immediately as I threw myself into healing with everything I had. One hundred and fifty percent. I got my hormones in balance. I changed how I moved my body and what I ate. I began looking at my shadows; really looking at the stories and patterns that had been shaping my entire life. I listened to podcasts and read books about the physical shifts that happen during perimenopause, as well as the often overlooked spiritual and identity transformations that happen for so many women during this time.

It was all helpful, but I didn’t expect where my deepest healing would come from: being in connection with other women and non-binary friends.

By sharing my experience with others who truly understood, I got to experience deep love and connection through my falling apart. Not in spite of it.

I didn’t even know that was possible.

My whole life I had held it together, believing I had to be impressive to be accepted and loved. That belief was exhausting and isolating. And in my connection with other women, that belief shattered. I was a mess. I had nothing to offer except my raw, unpolished truth. And I was seen and loved anyway, right inside my unraveling.

That experience changed my life.

I never received a clear, divine message about whether to become a mother. But what I found instead was peace. Inner okayness. Freedom from beliefs and patterns that had ruled my life for decades. Groundedness. Joy and fulfillment that had nothing to do with roles or titles or accomplishments. I learned, in my bones, that being me is enough. That I don’t need to achieve a certain number or have a certain identity to be worthy of love.

Today, I live my life from that place, from the inside out. The work is never done, and honestly, I’ve stopped expecting it to be, because the lessons keep unfolding, and I keep showing up for them.

And through all of it, what grounds me most is being in spaces with other women and non-binary people where I can process (and practice) what’s unfolding out loud. Where I can be seen and heard in the middle of it. Where someone can reflect my light back to me when I can’t quite see it myself. Where we can share what we’re moving through with less shame and loneliness because we’re not the only one.

Share

I share this because I believe this story isn’t just mine.

Maybe you’ve felt your life shift beneath you and wondered who you are without the roles you’ve always played.

Maybe your body is changing and no one around you seems to understand.

Maybe you’ve poured yourself into a business or career that no longer fits, and you’ve been trying to figure out why it doesn’t light you up anymore.

Maybe you’ve sat with a decision so heavy it’s kept you from living fully in the present.

Maybe you’ve felt purposeless or lost and you just don’t know what you want anymore.

Your story doesn’t have to look exactly like mine. But if any part of what I’ve shared has touched something true in you, this is a space where you can be seen and held in your experience.

An online course can give you information and a step-by-step formula can give you structure. And while those can be helpful, what most women in midlife actually need is to be seen and heard by other women who understand what this feels like from the inside. That's what I'm creating here.

I’ll begin by sharing my unfiltered stories about my experience of breaking down and rising more true (I’m so excited to be here!). And soon, I’ll be opening spaces where we can gather in community to hold each other as we bravely walk through perimenopause and midlife together.

If you’re still here reading this, leave me a comment and let me know what resonates most from this post. I want to hear about your experience so I can start to mold this space into something that serves you!

Oh, and a word about belonging.

This space is centered around the perimenopause years, including the time leading into it, moving through it, and beyond it. For most of us, perimenopause happens in our 40s, but for me it started earlier and for some it starts later.

The truth is, age doesn’t matter so much here. What matters is that you’re a woman or non-binary person who is going through deep shifts in your body, identity, relationships and/or career and you want a safe place to be held through it all.

What matters, is that even though you might feel like everything is falling apart, you’re choosing to show up for yourself as you walk through this portal.

If this is you, I’m so excited to walk this path with you!

Invitation to share:

Did any part of this story feel familiar to you?

I’d love to hear what resonated.

Leave a comment

We were never meant to walk through perimenopause and midlife alone.

Help me co-create a space where we don’t have to.

Add your voice here