I was taught not to cry

I help women who hold everyone else return to themselves.

This is the moment I learned to be held.

I was taught not to cry.

As a little girl, the message was clear:
Tears were inconvenient.
Feelings were too much.
Grief was something you did alone.

At my grandfather’s funeral, my mom said,
“If you’re going to cry, go to the back.”

When I lost two classmates at 11,
“Quit your crying,” she told me.

So I did.

I quit crying in front of people.

But I still cried.
In the shower.
In my car between appointments.
Late at night, muffled by a pillow.

By myself.

Because somewhere inside, I knew those feelings still needed somewhere to go.

A rupture and a repair

One day in May, my body said enough.
I couldn’t stop crying.

Sobbing, I called her.
Incoherent. Panicked. Undone.
“I’ll be there in 5,” I said.

When I walked in, she held me.
And I cried in her arms for an hour.

For the first time in my life, she didn’t tell me to stop.
She didn’t offer advice.
She didn’t fix.
She just held me.

Something rewired.

The part of me that thought I had to be strong all the time.
The part of me that believed I wasn’t safe to express grief.
The part of me that never learned to fall apart and be witnessed.

What this has to do with your business

Now, I hold space for the women who hold everyone else.
Because when you are the one carrying other people’s pain
in your practice, your business, your home
you need somewhere safe to lay your own.

Grief shows up in your marketing.
In your boundaries.
In how you price your work, postpone ideas, or protect your message.

Inside The Reclaimed Foundations, we do more than build business structure.
We build emotional safety.
So you don’t have to disappear behind professionalism.
So your leadership holds your truth, not just everyone else’s.

A gentle next step

If this resonates, start here: The Reclaimed Foundations. A calm place to rebuild offers, pricing, visibility, and boundaries in a way your nervous system can trust.