I still remember the day she told me she was walking away from her business.
She was a client. A friend. A woman I admired deeply. I had coached her through some of her biggest pivots, watched her grow a studio from scratch, and helped guide her through decisions that brought her success and freedom.
So when she said, “I think I’m done,” I blinked hard.
She wasn’t burned out. She wasn’t overwhelmed.
She was… clear. Grounded. Ready.
She told me she wanted to slow down. Get offline. Grow her own food. Learn to bake bread. Be a homemaker. She was going to fully immerse herself in a slower lifestyle—and she was giddy about it.
I respected her.
I still do.
She’s still my friend. Still a powerhouse. Still living her truth at a level I aspire to reach.
Back then, though, I didn’t understand.
I couldn’t.
I was proud of her. I supported her. But I didn’t get it.
It wasn’t my turn yet.
I Thought That Kind of Life Was “Nice for Her”
At the time, I was still fully in the rhythm of building, launching, running at full speed.
Slowness felt like a luxury I hadn’t earned.
Gardening? Too much dirt.
No social media? I mean, come on.
Walking away from success? Why?
But she did it.
She shut the studio down. She pulled away from the noise. She started creating a life of intentionality—one tomato vine, one handmade muffin, one quiet morning at a time.
And even though I didn’t understand it then… I watched.
Something in me was curious.
Something in me took notes.
The First Time I Put My Hands in the Dirt
Years later, when I planted my first herb garden, it wasn’t about being trendy.
It was about answering something tender inside me.
I didn’t like being outside.
I didn’t like bugs or the feeling of soil under my nails.
I didn’t want to wait to see if anything would grow.
But still—I bought the pots.
I chose the herbs.
I planted.
I waited.
And something shifted.
I felt grounded. Rooted.
I started waking up just to check on them.
Started talking to them. Started celebrating tiny sprouts like major milestones.
It wasn’t just about the herbs.
It was about seeing the me I hadn’t known was waiting.
What Else Have I Been Saying “That’s Not Me” To?
How many things have I dismissed too early?
How many pleasures, rituals, or identities have I pushed away simply because they didn’t fit the version of me I used to be?
I used to think gardening wasn’t for me.
Now it’s a portal into presence.
I used to think I didn’t like stillness.
Now it’s my medicine.
I used to think I had to work at full speed to feel valuable.
Now I know my value has nothing to do with my pace.
Sometimes, we don’t know what we love because we’ve never been safe enough to try it.
Sometimes, the life we want is waiting on the other side of a small, quiet “yes.”
Trying Something New Is a Form of Wealth
Luxury isn’t just silk sheets and first-class flights.
Luxury is curiosity.
It’s the freedom to try without pressure.
It’s the space to explore without performance.
Trying something new means trusting yourself to be changed—without needing to be perfect, productive, or impressive.
That is real wealth.
If You’re the Woman Who’s Curious But Unsure
Start soft.
Try the thing that’s been whispering to you:
That new recipe. That painting class. That trail. That book. That budget. That 10 minutes of silence.
You don’t have to master it.
You don’t even have to love it.
But you do owe it to yourself to find out.
Because the next version of you might be sitting right on the other side of try.
Let’s Keep the Conversation Going
If this stirred something in you, you’re not alone.
Meet me in my Facebook group, Wealthy Women Conversations, where we’re continuing the real, soulful conversations about slowing down, discovering new parts of ourselves, and defining wealth on our own terms.
You’re invited. You’re welcome.
And there’s a seat for you there.
Slower, Wealthier, Happier 
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