I've been thinking a lot about attachment lately.

It's amazing how often it disguises itself as planning, certainty, or simply wanting life to unfold a certain way.

I've become attached to certain outcomes.

I keep wondering, When is it going to happen?

When.

When.

When.

As I've sat with it, I've realized something deeper.

I'm not only attached to these outcomes—I'm also afraid they won't happen.

That's a tough combination.

When we're attached to one specific outcome and fearful of not getting it, we close ourselves off. We stop seeing possibilities that don't fit the picture we've created in our minds. We grip tighter instead of opening wider.

And sometimes, we become the very thing standing in our own way…

A couple of years ago, if someone had told me that in a single week I would experience a family emergency, blow out a tire, drive through a desert monsoon, and be evacuated because of a wildfire, I would have assumed they were pitching a screenplay for a low-budget disaster movie.

And yet... here we are.

This past week was one of the strangest I've had in a long time. It was a week of mishaps, literal disasters, near disasters, and more than one moment of asking, "What just happened?" It was also a week that reminded me of something important: no matter what happens, I'm going to be OK.

Let me start at the beginning…

There are moments in life when something inside whispers, “You can’t keep doing it this way anymore.”

Not because everything is falling apart.
Not because you’ve failed.
But because some deeper part of you is asking to be heard.

I’ve been in that space lately.

You know how sometimes you just need to pause and refocus? To step back from the noise and reconnect with what truly matters? That’s where I am right now.

What feels different this time is that this isn’t coming from urgency, fear, or the need to reinvent myself AGAIN. It feels more honest. It’s a knowing.

I’ve been sitting with a question lately — one that caught me a bit off guard.

A friend helping me refresh my coaching website asked, “Are you retired and just don’t want to admit it? Maybe you just want to be a content creator!”

I laughed — but the truth behind her question hit home. Because honestly, I’ve been feeling a shift. For the last three years, I’ve been building, striving, doing all the things that are supposed to lead to success — a career, a coaching business, a website, a plan. But somewhere along the way, something changed.

I realized…I don’t actually want a “business”, at least not in the traditional sense.
I want a life that feels authentic.
I want to be of service in ways that are natural, joyful, and real. I want to listen, connect, and show up for others in the way they need me to show up.

Am I still a coach? YES! Am I here for you? YES!

I’m redefining how I go about it and skipping the usual ways of running a business.

Have you ever had something that once inspired you suddenly stop resonating? That happened to me with The Intentional Roamer. For a while, I didn’t know what to share or even what felt right to say. So, I took a step back. I listened—to my intuition, my curiosity, and the voice inside that said, “It’s okay to pause.”

That pause confirmed a few things for me. I realized how powerful it is to trust myself, even when I don’t have all the answers. I’ve become more open, more creative, and more at peace with not knowing exactly what’s next.

Now, I’m exploring what it means to live in a “no-shoulds” zone—where alignment, not obligation, leads the way. 

I had an experience recently that brought up some old insecurities. I was triggered emotionally, and I was really surprised by my reaction. It took me at least 24 hours to understand why I reacted the way I did. I realized that the old insecurity was that I didn’t belong.

I was a bit embarrassed by it. I hadn’t felt that way in so long and honestly thought I had dealt with it and moved on. That’s the thing about triggers. They are here to guide us and point to places that still need healing.

For most of my life, I’ve carried the belief that I didn’t fit in. It shaped the way I moved through the world. It made me question my worth. And, at times, it made me feel very alone.

So I began to look within because the pain of staying the same finally outweighed the fear of change.