What if the next stage of your life requires a different identity? There is an old way of describing the stages of a woman’s life: Maiden. Mother. Crone. I understand the history behind the word “crone,” and in some traditions it represents wisdom. But let’s be honest. For a modern woman, “Congratulations, you’ve reached your Crone years” doesn’t exactly make you want to throw confetti. It sounds like the story is winding down. And I think for many women, the opposite is happening. You may be entering the part of your life when you have more experience, more perspective, more discernment, and far less interest in proving yourself. You’re not disappearing. You’re becoming the Matriarch. And that is a very different identity. Maiden. Mother. Matriarch. I don’t see these simply as stages determined by age or whether a woman has children. I see them as different positions from which we create. The Maiden is becoming. She explores, learns, tries things, seeks approval, takes risks, discovers who she is. The Mother creates, builds, protects, nurtures, carries responsibility, solves problems, and often holds far more together than anyone realizes. Then something begins to change. The strategies that served the Mother start becoming exhausting. She doesn’t necessarily need to work harder, care more, or carry more. She needs a different relationship with her own authority. That is where I see the Matriarch. The Matriarch still cares deeply. But she doesn’t have to carry everything. She guides. She decides. She allows other adults to carry their own responsibilities. She knows when to intervene and when to stay out of the way. She has earned wisdom through experience, but perhaps more importantly, she begins trusting herself enough to use it. That shift sounds wonderful. Living it can be another matter. “I need better boundaries.” A woman I worked with recently was experiencing this transition in her family. She had spent years occupying the familiar role of the family mom. She helped. She worried. She stepped in. She carried things.

What if you're just successfully running a struggle code? Here's what I mean. Things start going well — you're taking action, clients coming in, money moving, momentum building. Then something changes. New idea. Confidence drops. Money goes out. You stop doing what was working. Again. Most of us call that sabotage. It isn't. It's your code doing exactly what it was designed to do. Your code is the set of instructions running beneath your decisions—what you expect from money, what you believe is possible, and what you do automatically when success gets close. Most of it was written long before you were old enough to question it. And until you see it, you just live its output. Some codes read like this: ✕ Success requires struggle. ✕ Money requires sacrifice. ✕ Visibility creates risk. ✕ Good things don't last. Inside a code like that, your behavior makes sense. You're not failing at success — you're succeeding at the wrong code. On Tuesday, October 13 at 12:00 PM CT, I'm teaching the recode — live, in a free 90-minute workshop: RECODE YOUR MIND FOR SUCCESS You'll learn my VIBE Coding™ process: identify the code, adjust what no longer serves you, run it in real life, create evidence — then adjust and run again. This is working time, not a lecture. Bring ONE area where you keep running the same code: the calls, the pricing, the income level you reach and don't hold. 🗓 Tuesday, October 13 · 12:00–1:30 PM CT 📍 Live on Zoom — replay goes here in the Lab 🎟 Free — grab your seat: HERE Know someone who keeps "starting over"? Invite them. This pattern thrives in silence.

Today gave me a chance to practice exactly what I've been writing about. I woke up knowing what I needed to do. And then life happened. There was pressure and upset in my house. I got the kid to school. Cleaned the house. Went to the grocery store. Handled things that needed handling. And several things happened that could easily have become perfectly legitimate reasons to abandon what I had committed to doing for myself today. But I kept coming back to one thought: “This is still what I chose.” Maybe I'll only get 15 minutes at a time. That's okay. Because I realized there is a third piece: Capability asks: Can I do it? Capacity asks: Can I hold what doing it requires within the reality of my life? Commitment asks: When life pulls me away, will I return? I used to think commitment meant staying relentlessly focused. Now I'm questioning that. Maybe commitment is the return. Getting interrupted isn't failure. Feeling overwhelmed isn't failure. Having other responsibilities isn't failure. The critical moment is what happens next. Do I use what happened as a reason to abandon what I chose? Or do I return? Today, I'm returning. Maybe only 15 minutes at a time. But every time I do, I'm creating evidence that my commitments to myself matter. Capability. Capacity. Commitment. I think I'm going to be exploring these three for a while. I witness your mastery.

Being capable and having capacity are not the same thing. I know this intimately. Like many women, I've become very good at taking care of things. Family. Clients. Work. The house. The unexpected problem that suddenly needs solving. The person who needs help. And when you're highly capable, people learn that they can depend on you. But I've been recognizing a hidden cost in my own life. Everyone and everything can benefit from your capability while your own hopes and goals get whatever is left. Not because they don't matter. Because something else always matters too. One responsibility. One interruption. One accommodation. One perfectly legitimate need at a time. Until you're exhausted and wondering why something you care deeply about still isn't getting done. That's why I've started thinking differently about capacity. Capability asks: “Can I do this?” Capacity asks: “Can I hold what this requires while the rest of my life is still happening?” Can I stay connected to my vision when someone else needs me? Can I protect time for my own financial well-being? Can I tolerate something else being unfinished? Can I experience pressure without abandoning what I chose? Can I make room for myself in my own life? I don't think my next level requires proving that I'm more capable. I think it requires expanding my capacity to direct the capability I already have toward what I want to create. But I've discovered something else. Capacity isn't enough either. Because life will still interrupt us. Which brings me to the third C: Commitment.

A 3-Part Series on Capability, Capacity & Commitment Part 1: When Your Results Don't Match Your Capability I had a thought recently that stopped me. My income isn't matching my capability. That is not particularly easy for me to say publicly. I've spent decades helping other people create results. I've coached millionaires. I've helped business owners break through income ceilings. I've helped people recognize their value, make better decisions, move through patterns that were holding them back, and create more money. When I'm working with someone else, I can often see their potential before they can. I see the opportunity. I see their genius. I see what's getting in the way. And I have no trouble believing in what's possible for them. But turning that same focus toward myself and my own financial well-being? That has been much harder. For a long time, the obvious question was: If I'm capable of helping other people create these results, why haven't I consistently created them for myself? It's tempting to answer that question by deciding something must be wrong with me. Maybe I need more discipline. A better strategy. A clearer message. More confidence. But I already have decades of evidence of my capability. So I've started asking a different question. What if my income isn't reflecting my capability? What if it's reflecting my capacity? That distinction opened up an entirely different conversation for me. And that's what I want to talk about next. I witness your mastery.