I was at a black-tie event in New York City — the kind of night that's supposed to feel like arrival — and I remember standing in the middle of it thinking: is this it?
I had the career. The title. The trajectory. I was good at it, genuinely. But the moments that actually lit me up weren't in the boardroom. They were in the quiet, one-on-one conversations with people on my team who were trying to figure out what they really wanted. That's where I felt like myself.
I grew up in Elyria, Ohio — part city, part country, all practical. My parents divorced early. I was a caretaker for my older sister, who has cerebral palsy. I learned to be responsible, capable, and self-sufficient before I had language for any of it. I built a corporate career on exactly those traits. And for a long time, that felt like enough. That felt like success.
It wasn't.
Leaving wasn't a clean leap. It was a decision I made slowly, then all at once — the way most real decisions actually happen. What I found on the other side wasn't just a different job. It was a different relationship with myself. And that's the thing I couldn't have predicted: how much of the work was identity work, not strategy work.
That's what I do now. I help 6-figure corporate women who are done waiting build a coaching business and leave — not by handing them a plan, but by working at the level where the real block lives. Who you believe you are. What you think you're allowed to want. Whether you trust yourself enough to bet on it.
Italy is where I bring women for this work because Italy doesn't let you stay numb. The food is too good. The pace is too human. The hills at dusk are too insistent. Something about being there makes the question you've been avoiding a lot harder to ignore.
If you're reading this page, you already know something needs to change. You're not here by accident.
