Maybe you saw it coming. Maybe it hit you out of nowhere.

A layoff, a funding cut, a toxic new leader, or a quiet realization that your work no longer fits the life you want. Career shocks come in many forms. Some are loud and sudden. Others build slowly, until one day you can no longer ignore the signs.

Whatever brought you here, I want you to know: you are not alone. And you are not starting over.

You are starting from experience.

We all hit moments in our lives and careers when we need support. But not all support serves the same purpose or leads to lasting change.

Advice tells you what they would do.
Mentorship often shows you the path they took.
Courses offer frameworks, but not always the clarity to apply them.
Therapy helps you heal patterns and process emotions.

Mentorship coaching, the way I practice it, offers something different.

The first half of 2025 has been a shit storm. Dumpster fire after fire. And if you're exhausted and scattered, all the while feeling fired up, you are not alone. Or maybe that just describes me, ha.

As a counterweight to that, this June and July, I’ll be sharing weekly insights, prompts, and practices all summer long to help you build what I call Resilient Joy. I’m inviting us back to the practices that help us reset, not out of obligation, but out of care. Not to get more done, but to come back to what matters.

One of the most powerful things about this work—coaching, Creativity Lab, and community sessions—is witnessing someone remember who they are.

This month, I want to share the story of one of my clients, a healthcare professional who came to our coaching space feeling stuck, scattered, and ready to “rage quit” her job. What unfolded over a few months was more than a career pivot in the traditional sense. It was a creative reawakening.

Ahhh, the first week of June!

As we embrace the long light of summer, I’m reminded that this season doesn’t ask us to work harder, it invites us to grow differently. Summer holds a particular kind of energy: expansive, sensory, alive with possibility. But too often, we drag our spring hustle into summer’s warmth, expecting the same grind to yield new fruit.

Over the past month, I’ve shared my story of leaving academia. But really, it wasn’t about leaving. It was about unlearning. About remembering. About creating the space to ask:

“What kind of work and life restores me instead of depletes me?”

It took years. It took breakdowns and break opens. It took healing, play, and creativity.

And it took community.

Imposterism thrives in environments that demand external proof (hello, external evaluations, blind reviews, anonymous 360 feedback, student evaluations, and on and on).

It whispers:
“Do I belong?”
“Am I qualified enough?”
“Will they believe me?”
“Maybe this is just imposterism.”

But creativity doesn’t ask for credentials.

One of the most common “What comes next?” responses comes masked as one of these:

“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“I need more training first.”
“I know I’ve done a lot, but…”
“There are other people who…”
“Here are the 3 certifications I need to start_____”

You don’t need another certificate. 

Stop confusing overing with being worthy.

When I experienced my first big career shock, I didn’t have language for it yet. Nor did I think I’d someday be coaching folks on how to build their own regenerative businesses.

All I knew was that my body was shutting down, my purpose felt hollow, I had to find healthier ways of working, and the career I had built with care and credentials no longer fit the person I was becoming.

As I shared last week, I get the question of “What made you leave academia?” often. But the shift in conversation comes with the next part (which I think is usually the real question): “How did you know what you wanted to do next?”

And here’s what I always want to say first:

I didn’t have it all figured out.
I didn’t even call it “leaving” or a pivot at the time. (Afterwards, I joked I put myself into early self-retirement.)
I just stopped pretending it was fine.
At first because my body made me.

The mainstream conversations about career advice sure does leave much to be desired. One of the biggest misses: The reality that the practical and personal need to be intertwined.

So today I’m sharing a new free resource that offers a more integrated approach to career advice! From navigating my own career in, through, and out of academia, I learned that change is already challenging and it is possible to feel ease and support. It’s taken me decades to learn this, but we don’t have to always make things so damn hard on ourselves.

I get asked this question often (especially in the last couple months):

“What made you leave academia?”

Often folks assume that I left academia because I was disillusioned.

And in some ways, yes, I was at certain points. But not at first and not when I left.