Hi Reader,

The headaches, the scratchy throat, the heaviness in my body—I chalked it up to a week driving through Olympic and Mt. Rainier National Parks with my cousin Gina, breathing in forests thick with allergy-inducing summer blooms. We went on a whale-watching tour, saw a humpback and four different orca pods, and made a mountain of fused glass projects at MoltenWorks. We were tired, sure. But it all felt manageable. Normal.

The congestion and coughing started later. Annoying, yes, but nothing that screamed sick instead of the allergies we’re both so used to. It was only as I started to feel better that I thought: maybe I should test.

And then today, I tested positive for COVID.

This is my second time. Both after being fully vaccinated. And I’m okay—because of those vaccines that greatly reduce symptoms.

On a networking call this morning, someone asked what we were grateful for. My first thought? The COVID vaccines. They let us leave our homes. They let us reconnect. They gave so many of us freedom back.

I’m so grateful for that freedom.
And I’m also so angry.

Angry that something so safe, so deeply tested, and so clearly beneficial has become a battleground. Angry that anti-vaxxers and misinformation campaigns have cost lives. Angry that here, in one of the richest nations on Earth, universal, taxpayer-funded healthcare is still out of reach for so many.

This is why we’re tired.

Tired of systems that don’t protect us.
Tired of being told to bootstrap our way through broken infrastructure.
Tired of fighting for care that should be a given.
Tired of having to prove we’re worthy of rest.

We navigate healthcare in fragments—some of us with privilege, others left to fight for scraps. And support for your inner life? For your leadership, clarity, and emotional well-being? That often gets pushed aside too—not because it’s out of reach, but because we’ve been conditioned to deprioritize it. To believe we should figure it out alone. To wait for a breakdown before seeking a breakthrough.

We don’t always recognize when we need support. We tell ourselves it’s just a hard season, just allergies, just one more week we can push through. There’s no simple test that says, “Yes, now’s the time.” But that doesn’t mean we don’t need help.

We resist what could help us. We delay care—emotional, physical, strategic—until we’re worn down. We wait for proof that it’s “bad enough.”

But coaching isn’t just about crisis. It’s about prevention. It’s about restoration. It’s about reclaiming your breath before you run out of air.

If this resonates—if you’re holding it all together and wondering when it’ll be your turn to exhale—come sit with me.

Join a Dragon Drop-In Circle or book a 1:1 Clarity Call: https://befriendingdragons.com/meet​

You don’t need to wait for a test to know you’re ready.

Hi Reader,

Last night, I stood in a sea of 50-somethings at Marymoor Park, dancing to the Indigo Girls and Melissa Etheridge under the shade of enormous trees as the sun slipped behind the stage. My friend Cindy (yes, two Cindys at an Indigo Girls concert—unapologetically perfect) and I had excellent seats, black outfits we didn’t overthink, snacks in our pockets, and zero desire to prove anything to anyone.

When the Indigo Girls stepped on stage, I felt a wave of rightness. Not nostalgia exactly—though I’ve seen them before several times, in younger versions of myself—but presence. At 56 (57 in September!), I wasn’t reaching backward to my 20s. I was honoring that person, sure—but I was fully rooted in the woman I’ve become.

And then we heard this from the stage: “We have to protect our friends—especially our queer, non-binary, and trans friends right now.”

The crowd roared. We stood. We screamed. It wasn’t performative. It was power—unified, raw, and real. There was no going back. We were moving forward together. When we work together, we can do the impossible. We can make it happen.

And then came the song “Closer to Fine:”

I’ve heard those lyrics for decades. But this time, they hit differently.

Because this time, I didn’t just hear them. I believed them.

The Old Map Isn’t Yours Anymore

There’s a version of me—of so many of us—who once believed we had to do it the hard way. Be busy. Be perfect. Be productive. Keep climbing. Keep proving. Keep collecting milestones like signposts to justify our path.

But last night reminded me: You don’t have to keep walking a path that was never meant for you. You don’t have to stay on a map someone else designed. And you absolutely don’t have to do it the hard way to earn the right to rest, to lead, to live.

My youth isn’t gone. She’s here, fully alive in me—but she’s not driving. Today, it’s the me of now who’s in charge.

What If Fine Isn’t a Finish Line?

What if “fine” isn’t some perfect version of you, waiting on the other side of burnout, overfunctioning, or endless performing?

What if closer to fine means:

• Letting go of what no longer serves you.
• Moving toward what’s aligned.
• Trusting yourself to define your own truth—on your own timeline.

Here’s a Way to Begin

Next time you feel the pull to prove, to push, to perfect—pause.

Pick one dragon part of yourself to listen to today:

• Your Head: What feels mentally clear—or what’s spinning?
• Your Heartfire: What lights you up, and what quietly drains you?
• Your Wings: Where are you ready to stretch or take up space?
• Your Scales: What boundary wants to be honored?
• Your Tail: What old pattern are you ready to steer away from?
• Your Spine: What truth are you standing in, no matter what?

You don’t need to answer all of them. Just pick one. Reflect. Gently. With care. Maybe in a journal. Maybe out loud with a trusted friend. Maybe with a coach.

If you’d like a deeper guide, I made this for you: Download the Leadership Culture Compass — it’s in my free Starter Kit.

It’s not a quiz. It’s a mirror.

You don’t need permission to lead differently. You don’t need to justify choosing ease, rest, or clarity. You’re already on your way.

I feel Closer to Fine – what about you?

Hi Reader,

Back-to-back calls. Holding space for everyone else.
Delivering. Performing. Proving.
The days blur together—and so do you.

If that’s you, you’re not broken. You’re at a threshold.
And something in you already knows: this isn’t sustainable.

I’ve been there.
For me, the breaking point came not from failure—but from success that didn’t feel like mine.
I was performing the version of leadership I thought they needed.
Until my body—and my clarity—said enough.

That’s what my coaching is for.

Not to help you hustle better.
To help you come home to yourself.

I work with leaders—especially women and non-binary folks—who are done shape-shifting to fit systems that never fit them.
We name what’s true. We listen to the signals. And we build new ways of leading that don’t cost you your clarity, your boundaries, or your joy.

And now, there’s a new way to start that process with even more clarity:

I’m now certified in the Leadership Circle Profile™ (LCP).

It’s a 360° leadership assessment that doesn’t just show what you do—it reflects why. LCP reveals your Creative strengths, your Reactive tendencies, and what might be shaping your leadership from behind the scenes.

Some clients may want to start their coaching arc with this mirror.
Others prefer to move straight into the Dragon Path.
​Either way, if you’re curious, ask me.​
We can tailor your journey together.

Want to try a small shift this weekend?

So many of us say “yes” before we’ve even checked in with ourselves—yes to the meeting, the favor, the deadline, the emotional labor.
It’s not just overcommitting. It’s a pattern of giving away your power to stay safe, included, or useful.

This weekend, try this instead:

Before you say yes—pause.
Ask yourself: Is this a true yes you can feel from your heart and body? Or a yes to avoid guilt, disappointment, or conflict?

If it’s a yes from alignment, name it.
If it’s a no or a maybe, say: “Let me check on that and get back to you.”
Even that one sentence creates space—for your truth to have a seat at the table.

Journal about it for one week.​
What patterns come up? Where do you comply or accommodate by default?
Where did you try something new—and what shifted?

This is how you begin to move from Reactive to Creative—one pause, one choice, one brave boundary at a time.

If you’re ready to stop performing and start leading from clarity—let’s talk.

​Explore Executive Coaching & Dragon Path​
Or just hit reply and tell me what’s top of mind or heart for you.

Hi Reader,

It’s a new week after a long weekend.

If you’re feeling the emotional hangover—not just from fireworks, but from burnout, layoff news, or the quiet dread of going “back to normal”—you’re not alone.

Maybe you’ve already been laid off.
Maybe you’re just waiting for the next round.
Or maybe something in you is asking the question no one else hears:
​“What now?”

This week, I’m holding space for exactly that.

Who Am I Now?​
​A live, 90-minute reset for folks in tech navigating layoffs, burnout, and identity shifts

🗓️ Wednesday, July 9 at noon Pacific time
🕘 90 minutes | Free
🔗 Reserve your spot​

This isn’t about bouncing back or fixing yourself.

We’ll speak the truth about what this moment really feels like.
You’ll use the Dragon Playbook Starter Kit—a tool from my Befriending Dragons framework—to name where you are and start reimagining what comes next.

You don’t need to bring answers. Just bring yourself.

Yes, it’s 90 minutes. But it’s not a webinar.​
It’s a breath. A reckoning. A return.

If you’re burned out by the noise, come here for the signal.

🔗 Register here​

​

Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE],

“I’ll have the normal cheese on the regular bread.”

The woman behind the counter didn’t flinch. She knew exactly what that meant: American cheese. White bread.

Normal. Regular.

It stuck with me. My friend posted about overhearing that order, and someone else replied, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard that too—‘the normal cheese.’” Meaning American. Meaning white. Meaning default.

Let that sink in.

What we call normal—what we reach for without thinking—isn’t just habit. It’s culture. It’s the unspoken rules of belonging. And it’s often a story someone else wrote for us before we ever knew how to spell our names.

White. American. Normal. Regular.

As if anything else—or anyone else—is weird, exotic, other. Suspicious. UnAmerican. Not right.

I remember my own “regular.” I grew up poor in small-town Kansas and Missouri in the 1970s. Our meals often came from cans. The ham was marbled with fat, the bread was pillowy white, and fresh produce was a seasonal treat.

July 4th was special—not just because of fireworks, but because we got fresh corn on the cob and watermelon. A taste explosion eaten with our hands, juices dripping. Summer’s brief permission to enjoy without rationing.

I remember the first time I tasted kiwi in elementary school. It was part of a “cultural awareness” day. The tartness burst in my mouth like something from another planet. I loved it. Most of the other kids wouldn’t even try.

That moment stuck in my body. The thrill of trying something new, the disappointment of seeing others shrink away from it. That same feeling shows up now—in meetings, on stages, in boardrooms. Some of us lean in, hungry for truth and difference. Others recoil—still—though now with more polish, more power.

It’s not about food—it never was. It’s about fear. If they do it differently… am I doing it wrong?

But make no mistake—that disgust is taught. It is not mine. And it doesn’t have to be yours. We can unlearn it. We can decide, instead, to treat every human as fully human. We can see differences as richness and strength.

This is Independence Day. A celebration of freedom.

But freedom for whom?

The U.S. Declaration of Independence refers to my ancestors—Delaware and Cherokee—as “merciless Indian savages.” My presence is proof this country did not erase us. But it tried.

This holiday carries fire and contradiction.

Fireworks that split the sky. Barbecues and hot dogs and hands covered in ketchup and mustard—those are American. But rice eaten with hands? Too many say it’s gross. Uncivilized. Foreign. As if humanity can be revoked if it doesn’t come with a fork and a flag pin.

And those who hold power know this. They use that fear. They shrink the circle of “normal” down to a pinpoint, where only a few fit.

It’s why American white men invented the concept of whiteness in the 1700s—to stop poor folks from banding together by convincing lighter-skinned people they were closer to power than to their brown and Black neighbors. It wasn’t an accident. It was strategy.

Today, we get to choose.

I don’t perform loyalty to a version of America that’s allergic to truth.

But I do claim my right to exist, to thrive, and to tell the truth about this country—its stories, its wounds, and its possibilities.

We can stay small—clinging to what’s familiar, even when it no longer serves us. Or we can stretch. Not by pretending we’re all the same, but by recognizing that difference is the path to strength.

Systems built for sameness have never served us all. We grow as individuals, as communities, and yes—as a nation—when we welcome complexity, not erase it.

This is the work I do. Not just as a coach. As a human. As a woman who grew up poor and Indigenous and code-switching. As someone who finally said, “What if I stopped shrinking and just showed up?”

I believe we can build cultures—and countries—where authenticity is the norm. Where the regular cheese is whatever makes your body say yes. Where we lead with curiosity, not conformity.

We don’t grow by enforcing sameness. We grow by staying curious. We grow by embracing our dragons—those fiery instincts and inherited fears that rise when old rules no longer fit. Dragons don’t shrink to survive. We soar, rewrite, reclaim.

Let today be a reminder: independence isn’t about isolation. It’s about interdependence that honors every part of who we are. Including the messy parts. The parts that challenge. The parts that stretch us.

We can grow into something mythic. Something fierce. Something true.

That’s the path I choose. The Dragon Path. The one where we don’t erase difference—we fly with it.

Let this Independence Day be one where we choose fire over fear. Courage over comfort. Authenticity over assimilation.

Let us taste the kiwi again. Let us remember the corn and watermelon, sweet with memory and defiance—across borders, across histories. Let us trust that our differences aren’t threats—they’re invitations. They’re the start of something bigger.

Let the fireworks remind us: there is power in lighting things up. Not to destroy, but to illuminate. To grow.

We don’t need more regular bread. We need more permission to taste the kiwi.

Happy Independence Day. May you remember you’re already whole. May you trust that your difference isn’t a detour—it’s the way forward.

Shaped in conversation with AI—turning the fire in my bones into language on the page.

​

​

Hi Reader,

Last week I had one of those rare evenings that fills your cup in the best way.

I went with my friend and longtime collaborator Moni Giles, who’s doing powerful work around belonging and emotional intelligence through The Friendship Class. We showed up excited and ready to expand our networks.

We stepped into a room buzzing with powerhouse women—leaders, creatives, and equity-driven changemakers all showing up real, raw, and ready to connect. It felt like a deep exhale. A reminder that I’m not alone in wanting more from leadership—more authenticity, more impact, more alignment.

The event, hosted by Ellevate Seattle, was centered around mobilizing our networks—and it truly delivered. The space was built for meaningful conversation and real connection, not just small talk and drinks.

That’s the heart of what I do through Befriending Dragons.

I deliver a highly rated 1:1 coaching experience for women and non-binary leaders who are done performing and ready to reshape leadership on their own terms.

Here’s what we work through:

1. Name What’s True: We take stock. What are you done with? What’s calling to be reclaimed? This is your foundation.

2. Befriend the Dragons: Your patterns and instincts aren’t problems—they’re data. We learn how to work with them, not against them.

3. Integrate & Embody: You build your Dragon Playbook—your personal “Operating System of Me”—and start applying it in real-life moments of leadership, boundaries, and clarity.

4. Return & Realign: We reflect, recalibrate, and make sure what you’ve built is sustainable—even when life gets loud again.
​

Curious if this is the next right move for you?

Let’s talk. You can book a Threshold Call here:

🔗 https://calendly.com/befriendingdragons/threshold ​

And if you’re thinking about asking your org to cover the cost, I’ve got a clear ROI doc you can use—just reply and I’ll send it your way.
​

P.S. You don’t have to be in tech to be a fit for Dragon Path. If this message resonates, let’s talk. My mission is to be inclusive and bring more folks forward into thriving.