When I came home from the hospital after brain surgery 10 years ago, nothing about my life—or my body—felt familiar. 

I needed help doing everything. Sitting up without throwing up. Swallowing hard foods. Eating without the food falling out of my mouth. Standing upright without falling over. Learning to walk again. I’m talking basics of living here. The woman I saw in the mirror was a stranger—fragile, tired, unsteady, emaciated. 

And yet, I can see now, there was a quiet grace in that season. My husband, Ed, carried us all with a steadiness I didn’t know we’d need. My parents became the scaffolding of our daily life—filling in the gaps so our daughter still made it to school, so the laundry was folded, so the house stayed warm with life. Friends showed up to spend time with me, tell me I looked beautiful, and that I would be back on my feet in no time. 

I was surrounded by love. Still, one act of kindness cracked me open. A kindness that the rest of you may see as second-nature. 

Every night, for weeks, our doorbell rang. A neighbor stood there, holding a warm casserole, a loaf of bread, or a handwritten note tucked into a container of soup. Without being asked, they had organized a meal train that wrapped itself around us like a quilt stitched by many hands. 

At first, I couldn’t understand it. I remember whispering to Ed, “Why would they do this? I haven’t done anything to deserve it.” 

That question haunted me. Because beneath it lived a belief I’d never said aloud: love has to be earned. 

The Achiever’s Trap 

In my years coaching high performers, I’ve seen this belief show up everywhere. Maybe you know it, too. 

We are praised for what we produce, not who we are. We are told that being good means doing well. Gold stars, promotions, and accolades—they become the currency of worth.

Then this is our belief: somewhere along the way, we trade our inherent value for performance. And the voice in our head whispers: “If you’re not achieving, you’re not enough.” 

It’s a quiet lie. A dangerous one. And it runs so deep that even while I was surrounded by love, I still asked: “Why me?” 

Then life has a way of teaching what we can’t yet see on our own. 

Because when I was broken, people showed up—not for what I’d done, but for who I was. They cared about me not because I had a title or because I had done something for them. They cared about me. Period.  

That was a major turning point in my life. 

Rewriting the Story 

Our minds hold tight to old stories, like ivy wrapped around an old oak. Yet, ivy can be unwound. Stories can be rewritten. 

If you’ve ever felt that your worth lives in your output instead of your being, I want to offer a few steps to help loosen that grip: 

• Ask yourself gently: “Where did I learn this?” Trace the thread back—maybe it was a parent, a boss, a culture obsessed with hustle. Name it. Naming weakens its hold. 
• Challenge the narrative: When the inner voice says, “I have to earn love,” meet it with truth: I am worthy because I exist. I don’t have to prove my place here. 
• Practice internal validation: Celebrate your efforts, not just your wins. See your growth not in milestones, but in the quiet resilience of showing up, again and again. 

A New Chapter 

This is why I wrote my book, You Don’t Have to Achieve to Be Loved, (Available Now!) Be one of the first to access powerful tools that will help you release the beliefs that have been holding you back—so you can finally move forward with clarity and confidence.) It’s for anyone carrying the heavy weight of proving themselves. For the ones who are tired. For those who look successful on paper, but feel empty inside. 

In its pages, you’ll find stories, tools, and a map home to yourself. 

You’ll learn how to: 

• Break free from achievement-driven self-worth 
• Reclaim the quiet truth of your inherent value 
• Build richer connections with others and with the parts of you waiting to be seen 

If this resonates, I want you to hear this: this too shall pass. The striving. The doubt. The exhaustion. It isn’t all there is. There is another way. A better way. 

And, I’d be honored to help you find it. 

If you’re ready to start creating the life you’ve been longing to live, let’s connect. I invite you to reach out to discuss what’s possible—not to prove anything, but to explore what life could feel like when you’re living from your truth, not your to-do list. 

You are worthy. Just as you are.