I've been quiet for a while. Here's what I've been sitting in — and what I want you to take with you.

If you caught my post monday, you already know a little of what's been underneath the surface. The version of me that ran herself into the ground — fitness classes, bartending, a master's degree, teaching at the university — she was busy enough to never feel what was underneath. I was running. Toward something, away from something, I'm not even sure I knew the difference back then. I just knew that if I stopped moving, I might actually have to feel it.

And then life cracked all of that open.

Losing my dad. Unexpectedly. Two months after I graduated, right when I thought I was finally arriving somewhere. Then becoming a mom — and trying to keep going at the same pace, same push, same performance — this time with my daughter on my hip.

Until I hit a wall I genuinely could not push through.

What followed has been one of the most humbling, disorienting, and clarifying seasons of my life. And I've been learning things — some the hard way — that I want to share with you. Not because I have it figured out. I absolutely do not. But because I think some of you need to hear them too.

Lesson 01

Making the decision is the hard part. Everything after it breathes easier.

Last month, I made the decision to consolidate my June + October sound trainings. I issued refunds. I disappointed people I care about. I let go of something I had been white-knuckling because I thought showing up — even barely — was better than not showing up at all.

And here's what surprised me: that wasn't the hard part.

The hard part was making the actual decision. Because I had been feeling the impending doom for months and choosing to stay in the uncertainty instead of trusting what I already knew. I kept doing the things that "always worked," thinking if I just pushed through and filled the rooms and showed up for the week, I'd feel like myself on the other side.

But I'm not the same person I was. I'm a mother now. Hormonally, fundamentally different. And the burnout cycles I kept promising myself I'd break? They were still there, waiting.

The moment I stopped making the decision hard and just made it — the relief was immediate. Like I had been holding my breath for six months and finally exhaled. Like my whole nervous system finally got the memo that it was safe to put it down.

The integrity of my containers is something I hold to the highest standard. And I knew I was setting myself and my students up for a subpar experience — something I was not willing to let happen. So I chose differently.

Lesson 02

Ask for help the moment you think you might need it. Not when you're completely underwater.

I've been navigating PPD. The depression piece I recognized — I've been through it before, in a deep way, since I was eleven years old. I know that terrain. But the rage? That was new. Everything set me off. Chest tight, breath shallow, eyes wide, ready to fight the world. I didn't understand it. Honestly, I was embarrassed by it.

For 8.5 months I white-knuckled it. Sprinkle in the kind of sleep deprivation that compounds into something you genuinely cannot think your way out of — and that's where I found myself. Googling at 3am, running on 20-minute sleep windows, texting the same handful of other new moms memes to cope, spinning my wheels instead of actually getting support.

Finally, I started looking for a therapist. Something I've needed for a long time and kept putting off — because finding someone in network, locally, who specializes in postpartum is basically like online dating with extra steps. But even just having a consultation call — having someone with clinical training say "yes, what you're experiencing is real, and here's how we work through it" — felt like the first real exhale I'd had in months. Like my whole nervous system finally got the memo that it was safe to put it down.

The same is true in my work. A decade of throwing spaghetti at the wall has given me wisdom, but I know that having mentorship earlier — from someone actually in my field — would have saved me a lot of grief. We get so used to figuring it out alone that we forget help is an option.

Lesson 03

You are not the same person you were. And that's not a problem to solve.

This one is the hardest for me to put into words because I'm still living it in real time.

I kept trying to do the things that "always worked." The retreats, the trainings, the push through. Thinking I'd feel like myself again on the other side. But I kept forgetting — or refusing to accept — that the person who built those rhythms doesn't exist in the same form anymore. I'm a mother now. Fundamentally, hormonally, and in every other way, different.

And when I came back from Nicaragua — where I'd gone hoping the sunshine would lift me enough to keep going — I had to sit with the truth that I wasn't showing up as the leader I know I can be. Not because I'm broken. But because I was trying to pour from something that needed to be refilled first.

The burnout cycles I swore I'd break were still running in the background. The over-achieving, the "look successful" even when the numbers don't add up, the pushing through. And at some point you have to ask yourself: am I building something solid? Or am I just maintaining the appearance of something solid?

I want to build something real. Something my daughter can watch me build and know it's possible for her too. That means I have to let myself be the new version of me — still figuring it out, still sarcastic about it, but no longer pretending the old gear is enough.

I'm still in the thick of it — looking for a therapist, starting to work on sleep, letting my nervous system know it doesn't have to brace for impact anymore. But something has shifted. The decision to stop pushing through and actually tend to myself has opened something spacious I didn't know I was starving for.

If you're sitting in a decision, or carrying something heavy, or just starting to feel the pull of something different — I hope something in here lands for you. The hard part is usually just trusting what you already know.

I've missed showing up here. I'm really glad to be back.

With love (and 90 whole uninterrupted minutes of sleep, which apparently counts now),

Megan + BELLA