In my last post about Thinking Partnerships, there was a section called “Who Am I to Offer This?” It focused on the professional reasons I’m qualified to be a thinking partner—my experience, training, and years of practice supporting leaders. That part is true and important.
But it’s not the whole story.
What I left out is that I’m doing my own inner work—not the same work I do with clients, but the kind that helps me bring my full, honest self to every conversation we share.
I’ve always been interested in self-development. I’ve taken nearly every self-assessment out there: Myers-Briggs, StrengthsFinder, Kolbe, Imperative Purpose Drivers, the Enneagram, and more. They’ve helped me describe how I show up in the world—given me a mirror to see my tendencies and strengths. I’ve read shelves of self-help books, too. But for a long time, all of it stayed at the surface—an inventory of behaviors, not a reckoning with what shaped them.
Then the pandemic came. Like many of us, I slowed down. My ambitions shifted. I turned my attention inward—toward the smaller communities closest to me, and toward myself.
That’s when the deeper work began.
I began asking different questions. I started paying attention to my intentions, not just my outcomes. I began a deeper journey of understanding my Self—as described in Internal Family Systems (IFS) and the Enneagram teachings of Richard Rohr. I got curious about my past wounds and how they shaped the way I live, lead, and relate.
I dove into IFS therapy. I was diagnosed with ADHD and depression—conditions I’d likely lived with most of my life but only recently had the words for. I turned to plant medicine, somatic practices, and bioenergetics. I built a regular yoga practice—not for flexibility or focus, but to stay grounded in my own body. I get back on the mat (nearly) every day.
I’ve been using the Enneagram (I’m a 3w4, if you’re curious) not just to understand myself, but to hold space more generously for the complexity in others.
And let me be honest: none of this has been neat. This work has been imperfect. Flawed. Painful in ways I didn’t expect. The truth can sting. Growth shakes you. Grace is often hard to give—and even harder to receive.
But here’s the heart of what I’ve learned:
Nearly every struggle I’ve faced comes down to one thing—my capacity to love myself.
To forgive myself.
To extend grace to myself.
Everything good flows from there.
It’s easier said than done, of course. But it’s been a revelation.
There is so much joy to be found—and so much more love to offer others—when you start there: with how much you can love you.
And I wouldn’t have found this path without the powerful women in my life—especially my partner. She’s fierce. Brave. Clear-eyed. An Enneagram 8w7 who has extended more grace my way than I sometimes knew what to do with. She has helped me see what I couldn’t have seen on my own.
So here’s what I want to be clear about: I’m not claiming that because I’ve been doing “the work,” I can help you become more whole. That’s the work of therapists, spiritual guides, and healing professionals—each with their own domain of care and responsibility.
But what I can say is this: I’ve committed to bringing my full self—mess and all—into the work I do with clients.
Not just tools, frameworks, and insights. But presence. Honesty. And a willingness to sit with the hard stuff, together.
So let’s get messy.
Let’s face the big questions with our whole hearts.
Let’s not concede the hard work of being human to the conveniences of our time.
Let’s build clarity, purpose, and direction.
Let’s work together.