In 2018, I decided to leave a long-term relationship with a partner I had been with for 4 years. I was in my mid-twenties and we were living together. Without realizing it, I had slowly become financially dependent on that partner. I followed his career opportunities, moved cities, and took a job that didn’t pay enough.

When I was ready to go, I wasn’t just ending a relationship—I was committing to rebuilding my life and figuring things out on my own. That experience changed me.

My goal became simple: I wanted enough for myself. Enough money to leave if I needed to. Enough confidence to make my own decisions. Enough independence that my life belonged to me.

And now, my goal is helping others get that too.

A friend said something to me recently that I've been thinking about ever since. "I've noticed you push really hard toward a goal... and then you pull back and take a break." Honestly, it’s the best compliment. 

I'm genuinely proud of the way I take care of myself now, but it wasn't always like this.

I've been burnt out. I've been miserable. I've snapped at people who didn't deserve it. I'm even embarrassed to admit that there were times customers got the exhausted version of me too. I’m sure you have been there too. 

I grew up watching a generation—especially women—who did everything for everyone. They kept the plates spinning, but often at the expense of themselves. 

For a long time, I thought that's what success looked like, pleasing everyone. 

At some point, after I wasn't just surviving anymore, I made a decision that I didn't want that to be my life.

Finding your limits is hard. Respecting them is even harder.

Here's something that surprises people: I've realized I have about 18 hours a week of true people-facing capacity. I know, I own a coworking space, my job is literally just people!

Our grand opening was everything I had dreamed of.

And yet, when I got home, it all felt surprisingly heavy. I've been trying to understand why.

I think it's because visibility comes with an invisible contract. The more people know you, the more responsible you begin to feel for them.

I didn’t build this version of The Atrium to make people comfortable. I built it to push people. 

I took on a very public expansion, staked my flag on the main street, and put everything I had into building this. I didn’t hide while I did it. 

Trust me, this process was uncomfortable.