I was super pumped. I had so many ideas and my excitement level was high.

I called it The Self-Love Reset, a retreat for women who wanted to step away from the noise and stress of everyday life and spend some time tending to the relationship they have with themselves.

I scheduled the event at the yoga studio where I teach.

Then I got to work.

I created the structure of the day, a workbook, exercises, meditations, journal prompts, discussions, and moments of movement.

I created a facilitator guide.

And I created a 10½-week launch calendar.

I was going to promote the retreat through Instagram, my personal newsletter, studio emails, and a weekly Substack essay.

Originally, I planned to post on Instagram every day.

That lasted about five minutes.

I don’t particularly like social media. I’ve taken several digital detoxes and found my time away from Instagram peaceful. I had somehow decided that posting every day was what I should do if I wanted the retreat to be successful.

I quickly changed the plan to three times a week.

That felt doable.

Each week had a theme: pause, remember, notice, choose, honor, self-compassion, trust, and finally, coming home to yourself.

Each week I wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote some more.

By week eight, I began to notice something happening inside me.

I was exhausted.

I sat down to write this week’s Substack and had a mini meltdown.

The story wouldn’t come. Nothing felt good enough. I was frustrated, irritated, and feeling an enormous sense of urgency.

What have I done?

Have I taken on too much?

Yes.

I had.

I wasn’t simply promoting a retreat. I was creating the retreat, facilitating it, writing newsletters and essays, planning social media, taking photos and videos, marketing, teaching yoga, and doing the inner work that fed much of the writing in the first place.

Three pieces of writing plus Instagram every week was a lot of creative output for one person.

And it was making me miserable.

But instead of simply acknowledging that I was tired, something else happened.

My inner critic turned my exhaustion into evidence.

You committed to this.

You said you were going to do it.

You wrote it on the calendar.

You can’t stop now.

Suddenly, one unfinished essay wasn’t just one unfinished essay.

I’ll fall behind.

I’ll fail.

People will judge me.

The retreat will fail.

I’ll never amount to anything.

That escalated quickly.

And beneath all of it was another truth I could feel trying to get my attention.

I didn’t want to cancel the retreat.

I wanted to turn toward it.

When that awareness surfaced, I felt my body exhale.

I was sitting at my altar with my hand on my heart, feeling my way through all of this. My mind grew quiet, and I could see myself with the women who had already registered.

I softened.

I felt relieved.

I wanted to stop spending so much energy trying to get more women into the room and start thinking about the women who were already coming.

I wanted to know the material.

Prepare.

Deepen.

Practice.

I wanted to think about the room itself. How I wanted it to feel. How I wanted to show up inside it.

And yet changing my mind about the launch plan felt strangely dangerous.

Have I lost my drive?

Am I giving up?

Am I self-sabotaging?

What kind of person makes a commitment and then changes her mind?

That was when I knew I needed to come home to myself.

Not to find an argument strong enough to silence the critic.

Not to prove that I was exhausted enough to be allowed to change the plan.

I needed to become still enough to hear what was actually true.

Because I’ve begun to understand that coming home to myself isn’t a place I arrive and stay.

It’s a practice of noticing when I’ve left.

And I had left.

I’d taken my exhaustion, my overwhelm, and my desire to change direction and turned them into evidence that something was wrong with me.

I’d kicked myself out of my own house and left myself crying at the door.

So I let myself back in.

And instead of prosecuting myself, I became curious.

What if stopping the active promotion isn’t self-sabotage?

What if I’m not giving up?

What if I’ve simply learned something I didn’t know ten weeks ago?

When I created that launch calendar, I couldn’t have known what it would feel like to live it week after week.

Now I do.

And what I know is that I want my energy somewhere else.

Prepare. Deepen. Know the material. Hold the room.

Turning my attention toward preparing the retreat isn’t turning away from it. It’s turning toward it.

I can release myself from the active launch machine.

I can talk about the retreat in my yoga classes.

I can share something on Instagram when I genuinely want to.

I can welcome another registration without continually manufacturing content to make one happen.

And perhaps most importantly, I can change my mind.

The calendar I created ten weeks ago doesn’t get more authority over my life than the woman actually living it today.

I think I was looking for permission to let the launch change.

Some part of me wanted an airtight case.

Show me you’re really exhausted.

Prove this isn’t self-sabotage.

Prove you’re not giving up.

Justify yourself.

But I don’t need to make a case against myself in order to listen to myself.

I made a commitment to this retreat.

I’m also developing a commitment to the relationship I have with myself.

I can honor both.

I will show up for this retreat and do what I reasonably can to support it.

And I will stand by my own side while I do it.

Maybe that’s what coming home looks like this time.

Telling the truth.

Changing my mind.

Listening to the quiet no.

Making room for the yes.

Honoring what is true now.

I changed my mind.

And I’m still here.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

Notice one moment this week when you realize you’ve left yourself.

Maybe you’re caught in worry, seeking approval, trying to control an outcome, or believing an old story.

Pause and ask:

What would it look like to come home to myself right now?

You don’t have to fix what you’re feeling or understand why it’s here.

Simply return.

To your breath.
To your body.
To what is true right now.

Home is not never leaving yourself. Home is knowing you can return.

An Invitation

If these reflections have been inviting you to spend a little more time tending to your relationship with yourself, I’d love to welcome you to The Self-Love Reset, a half-day retreat for women.

It’s an opportunity to step away from the noise of everyday life, slow down, listen inward, and give yourself some of the care and attention you so readily give to others.

It would be an honor to spend the day with you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

Because this week, I haven’t felt particularly compassionate toward myself.

I’ve been angry.

Real angry.

Many times, my husband bears the brunt of my verbal hostility and silent treatment. This week was no different.

I was aware of what I was doing, and for a little while, I couldn’t stop doing it.

I remember going into the bathroom to pee. As I sat on the toilet, I asked myself out loud, “What has he done wrong?”

Besides the fact that he was breathing, my question yielded no answer.

I clearly understood this wasn’t about him, but five minutes later, I found myself irritated with him again.

We were getting ready to run some errands and closing the blinds in the back of the house before we left. He quickly shut the vertical blinds on the kitchen door, leaving them slightly crooked. I muttered a nasty comment under my breath and proceeded to fix them to my liking.

I could see myself doing it while I was still doing it.

I imagine a caged animal wanting freedom. The door to the cage is unlocked and it could easily walk out, but instead it remains there, steeped in its frustration.

That was me.

Later, as we headed toward the checkout at the grocery store, I suggested the 12-items-or-less line because it was available. He commented that sometimes those lines are slower than the regular checkout lines.

“Pick your own fucking register then!” I snapped.

Even then, he continued trying to connect with me. And I wanted nothing to do with him.

Yet, I wanted him to take my pain away. I wanted him to somehow stop me from criticizing myself, but how could he do that when he had no idea what was happening inside me?

I was looking to him to ease my pain, show up for me, and offer me the kindness and compassion I wasn't offering myself.

But instead, I kept raging.

I probably would tell me to fuck right off and come back only when I’d transformed this insensitive and hurtful pattern of behavior.

As all of this was unfolding, I knew I had to look deeper. I knew he wasn’t the source of my misery, even though some part of me desperately wanted to keep treating him as though he were.

When we returned home from our errands, we grabbed the dog and headed out again, this time for our local town forest. Being in nature always helps. It’s medicine for what ails me.

Our walk was mostly silent. I was trying so hard to be kind that I’d occasionally offer a comment or respond, as best I could, to something he said.

Mostly, I walked and practiced introspection. I explored my inner landscape, trying to understand why I was so angry at him, at myself, and at the world.

I knew I needed to apologize, but I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

I trusted he’d accept my apology, and I kept walking. I wasn’t trying to excuse my behavior. I genuinely wanted to understand what was happening inside me so I could stop making both of us miserable.

Then the awareness came.

It dropped on me like an acorn falling from one of the oak trees above my head.

I was angry because I believed I wasn’t contributing enough financially to our household.

And this was precisely the moment when I needed myself the most.

But I abandoned myself instead.

I have the luxury of working part-time. My husband’s job affords me that opportunity, and I love it. This season of my life is ripe with possibility to create, play, express myself, do my inner work, and write.

And sometimes I feel incredibly guilty about it.

I tell myself it isn’t fair to him and that I should go back to working a full-time, Monday-through-Friday job. I worry that if something happened to him, I’d have to go back to full-time work, and that scares me. A lot.

Recently, a brand-new Whole Foods opened in our town. On my first visit, I remember looking around and thinking, I could see myself working here.

A little part-time gig. Eight to sixteen hours a week.

So I went home, hopped onto their website, and applied for two part-time positions in the bakery.

I was genuinely excited about the possibility. I love baking, so working in a bakery felt natural to me. I’m committed and dependable, and I take pride in what I do no matter where I work. I’m social and engaging, and the thought of talking with people while surrounded by yummy baked goods actually sounded like fun.

Three days later, I hadn’t heard anything.

And somehow, that small silence became evidence in a much larger case against myself.

Here you are again. Still not employed. Still taking advantage. Wasting time. Wasting his money. Not making more of your own. Not contributing the way you should. Everyone is judging you. You suck. You’re worthless. Why didn’t you go to school, get a degree, and settle into a six-figure job? You suck.

How did I go from being excited about a little part-time job at Whole Foods to questioning everything I’d done with my life?

And when those voices became too much, when things got uncomfortable inside, I did what I’ve done many times before.

I abandoned myself.

Instead of staying with the fear and guilt that were asking for my attention, I handed the keys over to the part of me that wanted someone else to be responsible for how badly I felt.

That someone was my husband.

Eventually, something in me began to soften.

I recognized this crossroads. I’d been here before.

This time, though, I caught it sooner. I turned toward the part of myself I’d been trying to escape and began listening to what she was actually afraid of.

Then I swallowed my pride and apologized to my husband for the way I’d treated him.

But that’s where self-compassion became complicated.

Because when I hurt someone I love, I believe I need to be punished for it.

And if the person I’ve hurt isn’t going to punish me, I’ll do it myself.

I’ve spent much of my life believing that suffering is somehow part of the price I need to pay for doing something wrong. If I berate myself long enough, feel guilty enough, or make myself hurt enough, perhaps I’ve paid my debt.

And yet, I have decades of evidence that punishment doesn’t work.

I’ve punished myself over and over again, and this behavior still shows up.

My husband doesn’t punish me either. He forgives me. And as much as his forgiveness amazes me, there’s a part of me that finds it perplexing.

Because if he doesn’t make me suffer for hurting him, who will?

Apparently, me.

And maybe that’s where my understanding of self-compassion is being challenged.

Can I take responsibility for hurting someone without hurting myself in return?

Can I apologize, make repairs, and genuinely work toward changing my behavior without first requiring myself to suffer?

Because there’s another layer to what happened that day.

Before I was punishing myself for the way I’d treated my husband, I was already punishing myself for not making enough money.

Then I punished myself for abandoning myself.

Then I punished myself for hurting him.

The punishment kept finding new reasons to continue.

All because I applied for two jobs and hadn’t heard back in three days.

I still want something different for myself. I want to contribute more financially, and I’m allowed to want that.

But I’m beginning to wonder whether wanting something different has to mean making the woman I am today wrong.

I haven’t answered that yet.

I haven’t heard back about the jobs.

I still want to contribute more.

I’m still waiting.

And I’m practicing not punishing myself while I wait.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

The next time you’re disappointed in yourself, notice what happens inside.

Do you immediately criticize, shame, or punish yourself?

Pause and ask:

Can I be accountable for what happened and still remain on my own side?

See what changes when compassion is allowed to be part of the conversation.

Compassion asks you to understand the woman who’s struggling rather than prosecute her.

An Invitation

If these reflections have been inviting you to spend a little more time tending to your relationship with yourself, I’d love to welcome you to The Self-Love Reset, a half-day retreat for women.

It’s an opportunity to step away from the noise of everyday life, slow down, listen inward, and give yourself some of the care and attention you so readily give to others.

It would be an honor to spend the day with you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

There isn’t one particular moment I can point to and say, “That’s when I became more compassionate toward myself.” Instead, I’ve been noticing a softening.

A softening in the way I speak to myself. In the way I look at my body. In what happens after I make a mistake or slip into an old pattern of behavior.

I’m less interested in punishing myself.

More interested in understanding myself.

When I stand in front of a mirror, the critical and judgmental thoughts still appear. Self-compassion doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve stopped having them.

It’s what I do once I notice them.

I see the lines and wrinkles on my face, the flabby skin on my arms, and the damage years of sun exposure have done to my body. My thoughts can quickly move toward disgust, shame, and a low sense of self-worth. I hear that familiar and insidious voice say, “You failed again. Here you are, another day has passed and nothing has changed with your body. You’re not any thinner and you’re still carrying around too much fat.”

My joy immediately diminishes and the food noise increases. I get sad and abandon myself because I don’t want to feel the shame, and then I get angry with myself for not staying by my own side. Sometimes I turn to food for solace. Other times I spend the day monitoring what I eat in an attempt to regain some sense of control.

Before I began to soften toward myself, I could allow one encounter with the mirror to dictate the rest of my day. I’d carry around the belief that I wasn’t attractive, feel ashamed of myself, and want to hide. I’d look away from my reflection and compare myself to other women.

I’d notice the shape of a woman’s body first. If she was thinner than me, I’d make her a better person and myself worthless. I had learned to associate a thinner body with being more disciplined, more desirable, more worthy of attention and more likely to be chosen.

If her body looked more like mine, something inside me would relax. I’d allow myself to play with the idea that perhaps I could be lovable too. If a woman with a body like mine could be loved, then maybe there was hope for me.

I think what I was searching for in those women was permission. Permission to believe that a woman didn’t have to inhabit a particular kind of body to be worthy of love.

Now, when I see my reflection, the ancient self-limiting thoughts and beliefs still show up, but I approach them differently. I’m learning to catch some of the repetitive ones mid-thought. I feel my body tighten as it reacts to years of judgment, and I cringe at the possibility of spending another morning unable to be respectful and accepting of my body.

There are moments when I want to smash the mirror and run and hide. There are moments when the shame becomes so intense that I feel an urge to physically punish myself for not having what I believe it takes to inhabit a body society considers acceptable.

But I’m learning not to let those parts of me have the final word because I have choice.

I can choose not to let those parts of me have the final word.

I take a deep breath. My shoulders drop. My body begins to soften, and the mirror becomes less threatening. I can actually look at myself again.

I imagine another version of myself standing beside me.

She doesn’t tell me what I should see when I look in the mirror or try to convince me that my thoughts aren’t real. She simply reminds me that I’ve spent far too many years beating myself up, withholding acceptance, and allowing shame to determine how I feel about myself.

She’s softer with me.

When the criticism comes, she doesn’t pile on. She understands where it came from. She knows about the decades I spent receiving messages about what a woman’s body should look like and how deeply I learned to connect attractiveness with worth.

When shame tells me to hide, she reminds me that I don’t have to.

Rather than choosing clothes because they’ll hide my aging skin or make my body appear thinner, I’m beginning to choose them because they express something about who I am. Maybe that’s a skirt above my knees and a sleeveless button-down blouse. My body doesn’t have to change before I’m allowed to wear them.

She’s becoming the kind of companion I want beside me. Someone supportive and kind. Someone who is teaching me to be more accepting of myself as we walk away from the mirror together.

A best friend I’m learning to love spending time with. A partner who goes everywhere I go and never leaves my side. Someone whose company I don’t grow tired of.

I am the one person who will be with me for the entirety of my life. There is something incredibly joyful about realizing I’m developing a deep and meaningful relationship with her.

Sometimes I smile when I remember she’s right here.

She’s always been right here.

It almost feels like I’ve discovered a little secret to happiness: learning how to show up for myself when I need myself the most.

I’ve spent much of my life thinking of myself as someone I needed to improve, manage, discipline, or fix. Now I wonder what’s possible if I begin thinking of myself as someone I get to accompany through life instead.

Someone whose company I actually enjoy.

Someone who asks me to treat the woman I’m looking at differently.

Last week, I found myself thinking about self-trust as the belief that, whatever happens next, I won’t leave myself.

But if I’m going to stay by my own side, another question naturally follows.

How do I want to treat myself while I’m here?

I’m realizing that self-compassion isn’t merely saying nice things to myself. It’s the quality of the relationship I have with myself while I remain by my own side.

Standing in front of the mirror can prompt my inner critic to tear me down until I want to look away or adjust my clothes. My compassionate companion offers me another way. She helps me remember that this body is so much more than something to be looked at.

She reminds me that these feet have taken me places and these legs have supported me through decades of living. She reminds me that my belly grew and birthed two human beings and that these arms I can so easily criticize have carried an awful lot through this life.

Even waking up beside this version of myself has begun to shift something in me. I don’t have to wake up feeling alone with my anxiety. I have someone to greet the day with.

Me.

My compassionate companion isn’t trying to convince me that every part of my body is beautiful. She’s doing something that feels much more important.

She’s refusing to reduce my body to how it looks.

I’m not replacing, “My body isn’t attractive enough,” with, “Actually, my body IS attractive.”

I’m changing the conversation altogether.

And in doing so, I’m changing the relationship I have with myself.

So what becomes possible when my body no longer has to earn my compassion by looking the way I think it should?

Maybe I stop waiting for a different body before I allow myself to fully inhabit this life or wear the clothes that feel like me. Maybe I can look at the body I have today and practice accepting her instead of immediately searching for what needs to change. Maybe another woman’s beauty no longer has to become evidence of my inadequacy.

And maybe I can finally offer this body - and the woman living inside it - the understanding, acceptance, forgiveness and love I’ve spent so many years believing she had to earn.

Perhaps that’s the softening I’ve been noticing.

Not the disappearance of the critical voice.

Not suddenly loving everything I see in the mirror.

Just a new voice standing beside it.

A kinder one.

A compassionate companion who reminds me:

I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

Notice one moment this week when you’re being hard on yourself.

Before trying to change the thought, pause and ask:

How do I want to treat myself while I’m here?

You don’t have to make the difficult thought disappear.

Just see what happens when you meet yourself with a little more softness.

Maybe there's a woman in your life who needs the reminder that she doesn't have to change before she's worthy of her own compassion. If someone came to mind while you were reading, you're welcome to share this with her.

Share

An Invitation

If something in these reflections has been inviting you to spend a little more time tending to your relationship with yourself, I’d love to welcome you to The Self-Love Reset, a half-day retreat for women.

It’s a day to step away from the noise of everyday life, slow down, listen inward, and explore what it means to cultivate a more compassionate relationship with yourself.

It would be an honor to spend the day with you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

That was the question posed to the circle of 35. The circle I sat in as a participant at a consciousness-themed conference many years ago.

It was if the woman leading the retreat spoke directly to me only. As if she was looking directly at me, waiting for a reply that I was going to take that question and make it my practice.

Which I did.

I didn’t know it at the time, but speaking my truth became one of the most transformative practices of my life and it helped me discover a way to show up for myself, stop abandoning myself, and begin trusting myself again.

Trusting myself to stand by my own side when something difficult arose.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in the company of women who I’d only interacted with online. We planned an in-person meeting with the members of this collective I had been working weekly with.

One of the women brought her partner, even though partners hadn’t been part of the original plan for the weekend. As the evening unfolded, I noticed myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

She hadn’t done anything wrong, but I could feel my old pattern beginning to wake up.

We were settling into the living room, and I heard the partner say something about a singing circle. She began to play her ukulele and sing. Around the same time, another suggested we play eye spy, because the room was filled with all sorts of interesting items. The partner finished, and we finished the game.

She then spoke and asked why we didn’t sing along. I felt myself tighten and constrict. My shoulders lifted toward my ears. My chest became shallow and my stomach hardened.

My body knew this feeling long before my mind caught up.

I heard a familiar voice whisper, “You’re in trouble.” It was a voice I knew well. The voice that believed every uncomfortable moment required an explanation.

I shifted in my seat and began searching for that ideal explanation. Not the truth.

The safest version of the truth.

I noticed judgment rising inside me. Part of me wanted to disappear. Another part wanted to attack.

But I wasn’t going to abandon myself … for the sake of her comfort.

I could feel my nervous system reaching for the familiar job of making everything okay. I could feel the familiar pull to soften my words. To reassure her. To make sure she didn’t feel rejected. To make sure no one was uncomfortable.

My nervous system had done this for decades.

I acknowledged and honored this part of me for all the years it kept me safe, but then I did something loving. I showed up for myself by speaking my truth.

It’s a question I come back to often. In that moment, I heard it again.

Can you speak honestly and directly from a place of love and compassion?

I chimed in and thanked her for her song and told her I enjoyed it. I then went on to say that I wasn’t comfortable singing in the group. I chose to tell her about the kirtan events a friend of mine puts on and how I’m the only one in the room who doesn’t sing. I listen and enjoy the energy of instrument, music and vibration.

I trusted that in speaking honestly, I would be safe.

I trusted my truth would land where it needed to.

She didn’t argue. She didn’t shame me. Nor did she lash out like I thought she might. She simply received what I’d said. And something inside me relaxed. My body prepared for danger that never arrived.

My shoulders dropped, my heart opened, and I felt a held breath exhale slowly and gently. The conversation continued, the world kept spinning, and I was safe.

The next day, the friend I traveled with told me she’d noticed something. She said her instinct was to smooth things over. Watching me speak honestly had made her realize she had another choice.

For years, I thought self-trust meant strong willpower, certainty, confidence, and always knowing the right answer. I’m understanding it means something much simpler. It means trusting myself to show up for myself … even when speaking a truth feels uncomfortable.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

This week, notice one moment when you feel the urge to explain yourself, smooth things over, or make someone else more comfortable.

Pause.

Take one slow breath.

Then ask yourself:

“What would it look like to stay by my own side in this moment?”

You don’t have to be perfect or get it right.

Simply practice staying with yourself.

Remind yourself that self-trust is built one small moment at a time.

If this reflection reminded you of someone you love, consider sharing it with them.

Sometimes one small stepping stone can begin someone else’s journey back to themselves.

Continue the Journey

If this week’s reflection stirred something in you, I’d love to invite you to continue the journey with me.

The Self-Love Reset is a half-day retreat for women who are ready to pause, reconnect with themselves, and begin cultivating a more compassionate relationship with who they are.

It would be an honor to welcome you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

This morning I disappointed someone I love.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t mistake it for rejection.

This morning I told the truth. It wasn’t a dramatic truth. It was simply the honest answer to a question. And it changed something inside me.

I’d been looking forward to this day for nearly three weeks. My husband had been on vacation and my son, and I had been crossing paths in the house every day.

I’m someone who deeply needs solitude. Not because I don’t love my family, but because time alone is how I return to myself and how I can be most productive when I need to be.

Today, for the first time in weeks, the house would be quiet.

The moment the question was asked, through a text message, I immediately felt anger begin to rise. But it wasn’t really anger. It was fear. It was the little girl inside me saying, “No … please don’t take this from me.”

This was a familiar feeling. I’ve lived this moment before.

Different people.

Different circumstances.

Same story.

Someone else’s needs suddenly feel more important than mine. I tell myself this is happening to me. That I had no choice. Resentment quietly takes over and I begin acting as though life is happening to me instead of remembering that I have a voice.

Instead of remembering that I have a choice.

For as long as I can remember, I believed my choices were simple.

Keep the peace or risk rejection.

If someone was upset with me, I assumed I’d done something wrong. So I learned to smooth things over. To make breakfast. To explain myself. To soften my truth. To become whatever version of me might restore harmony. I thought I was protecting the relationship. Looking back, I think I was trying to protect myself from the feeling of being rejected.

Somewhere along the way, I blended disappointment and rejection together. If someone was disappointed with me, I assumed I was no longer accepted or liked. I assumed love had become conditional because that’s what I was used to. So I spent years trying to prevent disappointment before it ever had a chance to happen.

When the text came through, that old pattern stirred immediately. I could feel it urging me to soften my answer. To say, “Do what you need to do. We all live here.” To swallow my disappointment so he wouldn’t have to feel his. That familiar voice wasn’t asking me to tell the truth. It was asking me to keep the peace. I knew what I wanted to say. What I didn’t know was whether I was willing to say it.

I responded with, “I’ve been looking forward to this day for three weeks. Yes, I would be upset if you called in sick today.”

I started to cook eggs for him anyway. It’s something he appreciates and it’s something I enjoy doing for him. I knew it was a way that I could potentially avoid the anger being projected at me from him.

As I cracked the eggs into the bowl and dropped a slice of bread in the toaster, I realized I wasn’t making breakfast.

I was trying to manage someone else’s reaction.

Again.

He came downstairs, looked at the plate and said, “I didn’t ask for eggs.” Then he left, slamming the door behind him. The slammed door was familiar. What wasn’t familiar was what happened inside me afterward.

What surprised me wasn’t his reaction. It was mine.

I wasn’t trying to fix it.

I started noticing that I felt different than how I usually do when something like this happens. So I paused, got curious, and began exploring my inner landscape. I asked myself …

Why wasn’t I walking around, arms flailing, talking out loud and justifying my decision?

Why wasn’t I chasing after him emotionally?

Why wasn’t I texting him, apologizing for having needs?

Because I’m tired of pretending.

Pretending I don’t have needs.

Pretending the work I’m attempting to create doesn’t matter.

Pretending the work I do isn’t important because it doesn’t come with a weekly paycheck.

Pretending I can take whatever comes at me without it draining my energy.

Pretending I have to be everything to everyone when they need me to be.

And maybe even more than that … I’m tired of abandoning myself in the name of keeping the peace.

That’s when I realized the eggs were about safety. Somewhere along the way, my nervous system learned that if everyone else was happy, maybe I could finally relax. Maybe I’d be accepted. Maybe I’d still belong. Maybe I’d be safe.

My behavior while cooking breakfast was performance. Fear of rejection was quietly calling the shots. And I think I’m tired of performing.

Tired of performing “good mom.”

Tired of performing “I’m fine.”

Tired of performing one more sacrifice.

Tired of pretending I don’t have a choice.

It’s a survival mechanism, a protection tactic. And it’s exhausting.

Today I’m learning that I can disappoint someone I love and still be okay. The shaking of the house as the door slammed isn’t what stayed with me. What stayed with me was the quiet realization that I didn’t abandon myself this time.

I know this will get easier. I don’t know how long it will take for my ancient protector (the part of me that learned long ago to confuse disappointment for rejection) to stop bracing every time I tell the truth and choose to show up for myself. But today she gathered a little more evidence that disappointment and rejection are not the same thing.

And that’s enough for today.

The awareness alone, is enough.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

This week, notice one moment when you’re tempted to keep the peace at the expense of yourself.

Pause.

Take one slow breath.

Then ask yourself:

“If I wasn’t afraid of disappointing someone, what would I choose?”

"What choice would honor both me and this relationship?"

You don’t have to act on the answer.

Simply allow yourself to hear it. Get curious. Explore, honestly

Notice whatever answer arises with curiosity and compassion.

Sometimes choosing yourself begins with one honest sentence.

If this reflection reminded you of someone you love, consider sharing it with them.

Sometimes one small stepping stone can begin someone else’s journey back to themselves.

Continue the Journey

If this week’s reflection stirred something in you, I’d love to invite you to continue the journey with me.

The Self-Love Reset is a half-day retreat for women who are ready to pause, reconnect with themselves, and begin cultivating a more compassionate relationship with who they are.

It would be an honor to welcome you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

I thought I was going to write about my body this week. Or about exercise. Or about eating more ice cream than usual this summer. But the more curious I became, the more I realized it wasn’t my body I was noticing.

It was the way I was speaking to myself.

It’s summertime - my favorite season of the year. I’ve been spending as much time as I can outside and less time going to the gym. And I’ve been eating more ice cream because, well, it’s summer and it’s at the top of my list of favorite foods.

I know how my body feels when I move it regularly, and I know how it feels when I don’t.

When I’m exercising consistently, it’s easier to trust myself. Easier to quiet my inner critic. Easier to enjoy that bowl of ice cream because I know I’ll be moving again tomorrow.

But this summer, my routine has changed.

I’ve noticed that every day I catch myself focusing on my physical body.

It doesn’t happen just once.

It happens every morning when I see my reflection in the bathroom mirror. When I’m getting dressed. When I’m hanging clothes out on the line. When I’m walking the dog, cross-stitching, or even writing, like I am right now. My attention immediately drops to my stomach. Then my hips. Then my arms. Under my chin. Almost without realizing it, I’m evaluating myself.

I try to suck everything in. I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my body as if I can somehow hide. Because if I hide, I don’t have to face the fact that I’m evaluating myself.

Then comes the shame.

Shame wants me to become smaller or even disappear because then I’d be taking up less room. Shame wants me to explain myself, ask for forgiveness, and beg for approval.

It’s amazing how quickly my mind builds a case against me.

I question what I’ve eaten. I tell myself that I’ve slipped, I’ve fallen off the wagon, that I’ve lost my discipline, I broke promises I made to myself, and that maybe I don’t have the willpower to return to the habits I worked so hard to build.

My mind tells me people will notice.

They’ll judge me.

They’ll be disappointed in me.

They’ll gossip about me.

But then another realization quietly arrives.

I’m only afraid of their judgment because I’ve already judged myself.

What typically follows believing these stories?

Self-punishment.

And eventually ...

Self-abandonment.

What I’ve been noticing isn’t simply concern about my body.

It’s how quickly I begin judging and criticizing myself.

It’s how easily a change in behavior becomes evidence that I’ve let myself down.

And then, almost as quietly as the criticism arrived, another voice speaks.

What if nothing has actually gone wrong?

What if your body isn’t asking to be punished?

What if it’s simply asking to be loved?

Instead of asking my body, “What do you need, today?” I say, “You should know better.”

Instead of appreciating everything my body is capable of doing, I reduce it to something that needs fixing.

Instead of accepting the shift in my routine, I punish myself for allowing it in the first place.

I made promises to myself.

To eat more foods that grow and fewer that come packaged.

To move my body at least five times a week.

I sat with those promises for a while. Were they really about my body? Or were they about wanting to care for myself? Without realizing it, eating well and moving my body became proof that I was doing a good job of taking care of myself. So when my routine changed, I believed I failed.

That’s when other questions surfaced.

Why had less time at the gym become evidence that I no longer respected my body?

Why is my body the first place my mind goes when I think I’ve failed?

The answers didn’t come immediately.

Because at a young age I learned that being lovable meant looking a certain way.

I learned that my worth was tied to my appearance.

I learned that mistakes deserved punishment instead of compassion.

I learned to criticize my body long before I ever learned to appreciate it.

This week, I won’t measure my success by how many times I make it to the gym. I’ll measure it by something much quieter.

Can I notice the moments I begin turning against myself? And when I do, can I choose to come home to myself instead?

In those moments, I remember that I have a choice.

I thought this week was about changing my body.

It wasn’t.

It was about changing the conversation I have with myself.

It was about remembering that the first voice I hear doesn’t have to be the one I follow.

I can choose the one that helps me show up for myself.

This Week’s Stepping Stone

A short reflection, question, or practice.

This week, notice the moments you begin turning against yourself.

Not to judge them.

Not to fix them.

Simply to notice.

Then ask yourself:

"What would it look like to show up for myself in this moment?"

Continue the Journey

If this week’s reflection stirred something in you, I’d love to invite you to continue the journey with me.

The Self-Love Reset is a half-day retreat for women who are ready to pause, reconnect with themselves, and begin cultivating a more compassionate relationship with who they are.

It would be an honor to welcome you.

Learn more about The Self-Love Reset

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

Then one day, it occurred to me that I had never actually asked myself if I enjoyed it. I had simply accepted that cooking was what a good woman, a good wife, and a good mother did.

The truth?

I don’t enjoy cooking.

In fact, I never really have.

I don’t even enjoy cooking for myself.

Somewhere along the way, I had been conditioned to believe it was simply part of my role. It wasn’t something I’d consciously chosen. It was simply what I believed I was supposed to do.

That realization made me wonder …

How many other parts of my life had I accepted without ever stopping to ask whether they were actually true for me?

A couple of years ago, I was having a conversation with a younger friend who had been married for several years. I casually asked her if she and her husband were planning to have children. She smiled and said she wasn’t sure. Then she said something that made me pause.

“I wish people wouldn’t ask me when I’m going to have children. I wish they’d ask me if I even want to be a mother.”

I had never thought about it that way before. And suddenly, it seemed so obvious. Why do we assume every woman wants children? Why do we assume that marriage naturally leads to motherhood? The answer, at least for many of us, is simple.

Because that’s the story we inherited.

It’s what many of us were taught to expect.

I grew up believing that one day I would get married and start a family. It never occurred to me that I could question that path or imagine something different. After my second child, I knew I didn’t want any more children. But I never stopped to ask myself a much deeper question:

Did I actually want to be a mother?

I simply became one because that’s what I believed came next.

And for the record, I have no regrets.

My friend’s words stayed with me long after our conversation ended. They brought me back to my own realization about cooking. I began to wonder …

How many things in my life had I accepted simply because they were expected of me?

Cooking was one of them. But it was never really about preparing meals. It was about living inside a story I’d inherited without ever asking whether it actually belonged to me.

It wasn’t my story.

It was one I inherited.

I understand that we all have to eat. But if given the choice, I’d much rather have someone else cook for me or pick up a prepared meal than spend time planning dinners, chopping vegetables, or searching for the perfect combination of herbs and spices.

That truth has surprised a lot of people over the years, including members of my own family. Whenever my mother offered me a recipe, I’d smile politely and pretend to be interested. When I admitted that cooking simply wasn’t something I enjoyed, I’d often be met with puzzled looks, eye rolls, or comments like, “You’re just like your grandmother. She never cooked.” As though there was something wrong with me.

Looking back, I realize those reactions weren’t really about me. They reflected the beliefs many of us inherit about what a woman is supposed to enjoy, what she’s supposed to be good at, and the roles she’s expected to fulfill.

Most of us don’t consciously choose those beliefs. We absorb them from our families, our culture, and the world around us long before we learn to question them. Then one day, something begins to stir.

For me, it wasn’t a lightning bolt of awareness. It was a quiet but persistent feeling that something didn’t fit. I felt as though I was trying to climb out of a mold I’d been placed in long before I was old enough to decide who I wanted to become.

I grew tired of planning meals. I dreaded grocery shopping. I found myself wondering …

Why am I spending so much energy doing something I don’t even enjoy?

That simple realization opened the door to much bigger questions.

Where else had I been living according to someone else’s expectations?

Who am I, really?

How can I live in accordance with my personal truth?

How can I begin embracing who I really am?

I began looking at my life differently. Not with judgment. Not with the belief that I needed fixing. But with curiosity and a willingness to understand myself more deeply. I developed a practice of gently noticing the beliefs I’d been living with without ever consciously choosing them.

Some were small. Others had shaped the course of my entire life. It made me wonder how much of who I believed myself to be was actually me and how much was simply the result of years of conditioning I had never thought to question.

Without even realizing it, many of us stop asking ourselves who we are and what we want. We become who we’ve been taught to be. We fulfill expectations. We play the roles. We follow the script. Until one day we pause long enough to wonder …

Maybe this isn’t who I am.

Maybe it’s simply who I learned to be.

Perhaps remembering ourselves begins the moment we realize we have permission to question the stories we’ve inherited.

Weekly Stepping Stone

Every journey back to yourself begins with one small step.

This week, become curious about one belief you’ve been living by.

It doesn’t have to be something life changing.

Perhaps it’s saying yes when you really mean no.

Perhaps it’s putting everyone else’s needs ahead of your own.

Perhaps it’s believing your worth depends on how much you do for others.

Perhaps it’s staying quiet to keep everyone else comfortable.

Perhaps it’s realizing you’ve been living by expectations you never consciously chose.

Perhaps it’s apologizing for taking up space.

Perhaps it’s believing you have to earn your worth by being productive.

Perhaps it’s continuing a tradition simply because “that’s how it’s always been.”

Perhaps it’s chasing approval instead of honoring your own truth.

Perhaps it’s staying busy, so you don’t have to sit with yourself.

Perhaps it’s believing your value comes from how much you do for other people.

Simply notice.

Then gently ask yourself:

Is this truly mine … or did someone hand it to me?

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

When was the last time you truly paused long enough to ask yourself, “How am I really doing?”

Not …

How’s work?

How’s the family?

What’s next on my to-do list?

Just …

How am I?

It’s such a simple question.

And yet, for many of us, it’s one we rarely ask.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to move through life without ever really checking in with ourselves. For much of my life, I didn’t know how.

The truth is, I didn’t even know checking in with myself was something I could do.

I became very good at looking outside of myself for the things I believed would finally make me feel whole.

Love.

Approval.

Acceptance.

Validation.

If someone loved me, I felt worthy.

If someone approved of me, I felt enough.

If life looked good from the outside, I assumed I must be doing okay.

The problem was that I rarely stopped long enough to notice what was happening within me. I didn’t really know what I needed because I had never learned to pause and ask.

And when we don’t know our own needs, it’s easy to believe someone else, or something else, will fulfill them.

One of the first times I began to recognize this pattern was years ago while I was a member of an online message board. I’ve shared this story before because, looking back, I can see it marked an important turning point in my journey.

At the time, though, I couldn’t see any of this.

I wasn’t asking myself questions like, Why am I giving my power away? Or “Why do I care so much about what other people think?”

I didn’t have that level of self-awareness yet.

What I did know was that I was unhappy.

I felt lost.

I cried often.

There was a quiet ache inside me that I couldn’t explain. Only a growing sense that something in my life had to change.

I was standing at the threshold of what would eventually become a profound journey back to myself, although I had no idea that’s what it was at the time.

Back then, I became strangely obsessed with trying to impress people I’d never even met.

I wanted to sound smarter than I was.

Funnier than I felt.

More interesting.

I carefully crafted my responses, hoping to earn approval and become one of the more popular members of the community.

At the time, I thought I was simply trying to fit in. Looking back now, I can see I was searching for something much deeper.

I was searching for my worth in the opinions of complete strangers.

That realization didn’t come all at once. It emerged slowly as my awareness grew and I began paying attention to the patterns that had quietly shaped my life for years.

Little by little, I began to see how often I had looked outside of myself for approval, validation, and a sense of worth.

I began to understand that I had spent so much of my life trying to be accepted by other people because I had never learned how to truly know, trust, or accept myself.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped nurturing a relationship with the one person who would be with me for my entire life: myself.

The truth is that we don’t usually lose connection with ourselves overnight.

It happens quietly.

One ignored feeling.

One dismissed need.

One more time we say, “I’ll deal with that later.”

Until one day we realize we’ve been living on autopilot.

Moving.

Doing.

Accomplishing.

But rarely listening.

These days, I’ve come to believe that self-love doesn’t begin with changing ourselves. It begins with becoming curious about ourselves. It begins with slowing down long enough to notice.

To listen.

To ask one gentle question:

How am I really doing?

Not because we need to fix ourselves.

Not because we’re doing anything wrong.

But because every healthy relationship requires attention.

And the relationship we have with ourselves is no different.

Stepping Stone

Pause. Notice. Listen.

Set aside five quiet minutes this week.

Leave your phone in another room. (Seriously. You can do it.)

Take a slow breath.

Place a hand over your heart if that feels comforting.

Then gently ask yourself:

How am I really doing?

You don’t need to fix anything.

You don’t need to have the right answer.

Simply notice what arises with curiosity and the willingness to know yourself more deeply.

You may be surprised by what becomes possible when you finally create enough space to listen.

With love,

Shauna

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

And instead of ignoring what I’m feeling and letting it fester beneath the surface, influencing my mood, behavior, and relationships throughout the day, I choose to acknowledge my experience and meet it with love.

Growing up, I learned that feelings were something to swallow, manage, or fear. Through cultural messages, family conditioning, and the expectations placed on women in a patriarchal society, I absorbed the belief that emotions were a sign of weakness. They were insignificant and carried little value. I was taught to be strong, accommodating, and resilient. To keep going no matter what. To suck it up, move on, and take care of everyone and everything else before taking care of myself.

I learned to disconnect from my own needs and emotions rather than listen to them. I learned to judge myself for struggling instead of offering myself compassion. And when feelings went unacknowledged, they didn’t disappear. They often resurfaced as anxiety, perfectionism, or a desire to control my circumstances and the people around me. Control became a way to avoid vulnerability, uncertainty, discomfort, and pain. It became a way to feel safe. If everything outside of me could be managed, perhaps I wouldn’t have to feel what was happening inside of me.

But today, I choose a different path.

Today, I choose to listen to and trust the wisdom of my inner guidance. I choose to slow down. I choose to rest.

My eldest son got married over the weekend. As anyone who has planned a wedding knows, weddings require an enormous amount of time, energy, and attention to prepare for. They also require a great deal of energy to participate in.

I can say with complete honesty that I reached my socializing threshold on Friday night during the rehearsal dinner.

I don’t know if I’m a true introvert, but I do know that I become overstimulated fairly easily. Large groups of people, loud music, crowded spaces, and conversations competing with one another for attention can be exhausting for me. The wedding weekend was filled with all of those things.

It was beautiful. It was joyful. It was meaningful. And it was also a lot.

As I sit here this morning, I can feel the effects of that full and emotionally charged weekend. My body is tired. My nervous system feels overloaded. My heart is full, but it is also asking for space to process, integrate, and recover.

Rather than criticizing myself for feeling depleted, I am choosing to honor what is true.

I choose to believe that my feelings are not a weakness. They are information. They are invitations to pay attention, to slow down, and to care for myself. I choose to stop treating my emotions as problems to solve and begin treating them as experiences that deserve acknowledgment and understanding.

Today, I choose tenderness over judgment. Compassion over criticism. Presence over control.

I do not need to control my life or anyone in it to be okay. I do not need to earn rest, care, or understanding. I can trust myself to feel what I feel, respond with kindness, and meet my own needs.

This morning, I am exactly where I am.

And that is enough.

As you move through your day, I invite you to pause and check in with yourself.

Ask:

In this moment, what am I experiencing? What am I feeling?
(Speak that truth honestly to yourself.)

Can I allow this experience to be here? Can I stop fighting what I’m feeling, even for a moment?
(Answer honestly.)

How can I bring compassion to what I’m experiencing right now?
(What would you say to someone you love who was feeling this way?)

In this moment, what do I truly need?
(Answer honestly, then take one small step, or several, in that direction.)

Instead of pushing those answers aside, see what happens when you meet them with curiosity, compassion, and a willingness to know yourself more deeply.

Your feelings are not obstacles standing in your way. They may be guiding you toward exactly what you need.

Listen.

Trust.

Respond with love.

Today, I need solitude. I need nature. I need to move slowly and make space for stillness.

My energy has been given generously over the past several days. Today, I am bringing my attention back to myself.

I will spend time doing only those things that bring me joy, peace, and restoration.

That is what I need.

And today, I choose to honor it.

My son, his lovely bride, and their corgis.

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching (iPEC), one of the most respected coach training programs in the United States and an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF). She also earned her Associate Certified Coach (ACC) credential through the ICF.

In addition to her coaching credentials, Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator, an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor through The Center of Being, and a CYT-500 (Certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher). She is also certified in Yin Yoga and Restorative Yoga. And she is a certified Active Aging Movement Coach.

Having maintained a dedicated yoga practice for nearly two decades and taught yoga for more than 10 years, she brings a deep appreciation for the mind-body connection, mindfulness, self-awareness, and personal transformation to her work.

Her additional training includes Voice Dialogue work and participation in numerous consciousness, healing, and personal development conferences. Drawing from these diverse modalities and experiences, Shauna offers a holistic approach that supports women in reconnecting with themselves, reclaiming their inner light, and creating a more loving and authentic relationship with who they truly are.

That feels like my life. I’m 59 years old, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do when I grow up.

I wasn’t like the other kids in high school. I didn’t have any ambitions to attend college. Money had a lot to do with that, but I also doubted my ability to succeed in college. School was always a challenge for me. There were loans available, but saying I couldn’t attend because of money was really a way of covering up the truth: I doubted myself wholeheartedly.

I moved through the motions of life. I got married, bought a house, raised two children, and worked a full-time job to support it all.

But I never felt driven to pursue big ambitions beyond wanting to exercise, lose weight, and take better care of myself.

The truth is, this has nothing to do with a degree, schooling, or reaching goals in the third-dimensional reality; those things we often measure our worth against.

This is about blooming into the person I was always meant to be. The parts of me that were exiled, silenced, and hidden away are now surfacing as I continue becoming.

The tree still grows. It moves through its cycles of birth and death, the blooming of flowers and the falling of leaves. Yet the energy of life continuously flows through its roots, trunk, and branches. Even though we don’t see it, it’s there, moving through everything.

Including me.

The maturing.

The awakening.

The realization.

I was someone.

I am someone new.

Still becoming.

The blooming is in my heart. The softening is in my heart. The love I’ve cultivated for myself is in my heart. The compassion I’ve cultivated for others is in my heart.

But am I truly a late bloomer?

I used to think so. It’s something I’ve asked myself many times.

Or am I opening up at the right time for me?

Perhaps there is no such thing as a late bloom. Only the unfolding of a life in its own season.

I learned at an early age to compare myself to others; my weaknesses to their strengths, my failures to their accomplishments, my lack of degrees against theirs, matted and framed and hanging on office walls.

When we’re young, we look around and ask, how am I doing compared to everyone else?

Who got the degree?

The promotion?

The bigger house?

The clearer purpose?

But the kind of blooming I’m reflecting on isn’t measured that way.

It isn’t about getting ahead of someone else.

It’s about growing deeper into myself.

I have not failed to become who I was meant to be. I’ve spent decades navigating the ups and downs of life; supporting a family, raising children, carrying responsibilities, while quietly cultivating qualities that don’t hang on office walls: self-awareness, compassion, humility, tenderness, and love for self.

A flower blooms when conditions are right.

I wouldn’t stand beneath a magnolia tree in June and accuse it of being late because the others bloomed in May.

The magnolia opens when it’s ready.

Seeing it today is a gift. A moment of unexpected beauty. It stands in its own season, not needing the presence of other blossoms to prove its worth.

Maybe I am not a late bloomer after all.

Maybe I bloomed exactly when I was meant to.

Not according to society’s timeline.

Not according to the expectations of others.

Not according to the comparisons I learned as a child.

According to the quiet wisdom of my own life.

The tree was never behind.

It was growing.

Inspiring Others to Remember Their Light

Shauna believes that every woman carries a light within her that deserves to be seen, honored, and expressed. Her work is dedicated to helping women reconnect with that light after years of self-doubt, people-pleasing, or disconnection from themselves. Through transformative coaching, she guides women in defining self-love for themselves - not as a destination, but as a daily practice of self-acceptance, self-trust, and self-honoring. As women embrace their inner wisdom and cultivate self-love on their own terms, they find the courage to live more fully, authentically, and unapologetically.

I used to pride myself on sleeping through the night, rarely waking, never having to get up to pee.

But all that has changed.

A “good night’s sleep” is no longer something I experience often, and I’m learning how to exist on six interrupted hours a night.

When I first began noticing perimenopausal symptoms, I made a promise to myself: I would embrace every moment and complain about none of it. Not even when my internal temperature goes from 97.5 to 109 degrees in two and a half seconds. I know the exact instant the heat turns on.

Part of my promise was to never use the term “hot flash,” especially not while wildly flailing my arms and announcing it to everyone within earshot.

No.

Instead, whenever a wave rises, I become present. I welcome it. I embrace it.

I still do.

I am not a victim of menopause. Rather than surrendering to symptoms, I am navigating this new chapter with clarity and a willingness to stay present with myself.

Menopause is not a tragedy. It is a natural biological transition, just like the beginning of a menstrual cycle.

Ever since my first period at thirteen, I rejected the idea of being a woman when it came to my monthly cycle. I grew up believing it was something dirty, not to be talked about, only hidden. Silent.

During my impressionable teenage years, I was instructed to roll up my dirtiness, place it into a brown paper bag, and dispose of it in the kitchen trash, buried beneath mashed potatoes and canned green beans from dinner.

The embarrassment of blood was overwhelming whenever our house was full of guests and I had to make the long walk from bathroom to kitchen, clutching the tightly rolled brown paper bag in my hand, praying no one would notice.

No teenage girl should carry that much shame.

A few years after my second child was born, I found myself at the hospital early one morning, being prepped for an ablation. I was alone, and I distinctly remember thinking, Is this really something you want to do, Shauna?

The procedure was elective.

I chose it.

Why?

Because I was exhausted by my period and tired of dealing with it month after month. I wasn’t planning to have more children, so why not?

Again, there I was, rejecting my womanhood, wanting it all to disappear so I could simply get on with my life.

So when perimenopausal symptoms began to wax and wane, I knew this was my final opportunity to accept rather than resist.

And accept I have.

But then the whole sleep thing started.

Perhaps you can relate.

You’re falling asleep on the sofa, so you drag yourself to bed only to find yourself wide awake, staring into the darkness for two or three hours.

Yeah. That’s been my life.

Sleep is not a luxury. When you don’t get enough of it, you feel it in everything all day long.

After a few months of this ridiculous cycle of tossing and turning, fluffing my pillow, and peeing for the umpteenth time, I began considering a bedtime routine.

I teach yoga, and some nights, while lying there awake, I would create sequences in my mind. Sometimes I would even turn on the light and move through a few flows.

Recently, I enrolled in a continuing education training called Intentional Sequencing for Yin Yoga. I love everything about Yin Yoga - the practice, the teaching, the stillness, the surrender.

I already knew Yin Yoga supported bone health, but until this training, it hadn’t occurred to me how beneficial it can be for menopausal women.

In Yin, we bring long-held, compressive stress to the tissues surrounding the joints - the tendons, ligaments, and fascia. This stimulates osteoblast activity, which plays an important role in reversing the bone density loss commonly experienced during menopause.

Yin acts as a low-impact practice that helps counteract the bone loss accelerated by declining estrogen. It can also help ease joint pain and reduce the stiffness associated with lower collagen levels.

But beyond all the science, Yin has been teaching me how to soften instead of resist.

And maybe that’s exactly what this season of life has been asking of me all along.

So I put a yoga mat in my bedroom.

What began as simply considering the idea of rolling out my mat when sleep wouldn’t come eventually became something I tried after the first hour of tossing and turning. Now, it’s something I practice before I ever lay my head down on the pillow.

And you know what?

I fall asleep more quickly and sleep more soundly.

Thirty to forty minutes of Yin Yoga can be an ideal bedtime practice for menopausal women because it helps ease hormone-driven insomnia by shifting the body out of fight-or-flight mode and into the calming parasympathetic nervous system.

For most of my life, I treated my womanhood like an inconvenience.

Something to hide, suppress, manage, or outgrow.

But menopause has been teaching me something entirely different.

This body was never the enemy.

“Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.” - Wayne Dyer

Today I celebrate seven years of sobriety.

Back when I was miserable, drinking heavily, angry all the time, and spending hours listening to Hay House Radio, I heard Wayne Dyer talk about his sobriety journey. At that point, he had gone 30 years without a sip of alcohol. I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s a long time to go without drinking.”

But something inside me stirred in that moment. Even if I didn’t fully realize it consciously, I knew that one day I, too, would tell anyone willing to listen that I was 30 years sober. That day will come in 2049.

Thirty years can feel like an overwhelming goal, especially when many people trying to stop drinking are simply fighting to make it through one day at a time.

Alcohol is woven into the fabric of our culture. It’s part of celebrations, networking, dating, sports, stress relief, holidays, and even ordinary socializing. During the COVID lockdown, liquor stores were considered essential businesses and allowed to remain open.

So many of our rituals revolve around drinking: happy hours, weddings, tailgates, vacations, baby showers, and work events. Movies, TV, music, and social media frequently portray alcohol as glamorous, funny, rebellious, or relaxing.

Is it any wonder that embracing sober living can feel so challenging?

As I mentioned, anger was an emotion that had been present in my life for a long time. Over the years, I’ve learned to understand it and release it in healthier, more constructive ways. What I discovered through that brave inner work was this: I was miserable and angry because I didn’t want to be drinking anymore.

The problem was, I didn’t know how to stop. What made it even harder was that most of my relationships at that point in my life revolved around drinking.

Then came that fateful day. May 6, 2019, when I woke up hungover for the last time, walked into the kitchen, and poured a handle of vodka down the drain.

That day, I made a conscious choice to improve my life and step out of the cage of misery I had kept myself in for so long. From that moment forward, I chose to motivate myself to become the person I wanted and preferred to be for whatever time I have left on this earth.

I consider myself fortunate because sobriety has been relatively easy for me. For many people, it’s not.

Thankfully, there is now a wide range of resources available to support those who want to stop drinking: digital tools and sober communities, lifestyle-based recovery programs, books, podcasts, education, therapeutic and medical support, as well as peer support and recovery communities.

At the same time, there’s been a noticeable shift taking place.

More people are choosing sobriety or embracing a “sober curious” lifestyle. Nonalcoholic beers, mocktail bars, dry bars, and alcohol-free social spaces have expanded rapidly. Conversations around mental health, sleep, fitness, and addiction have also encouraged people to become more mindful and reflective about their relationship with alcohol.

Seven years later, I can honestly say that choosing sobriety was one of the greatest acts of self-love and self-respect of my life.

And one day, if I’m fortunate enough, I’ll share this story again as someone who has been sober for 30 years.

If you’re in a season of wanting to reconnect with yourself, heal, grow, or make healthier choices for your life, I’d love to invite you to join my FREE 7-Day Self-Love Challenge.

Sometimes transformation begins with one small decision to start treating yourself with more compassion, care, and honesty.

FIND OUT MORE AND TAKE THE CHALLENGE

The answer to your problems is loving yourself more.

Who would have thought that a simple knee-down chaturanga could bring so much joy and love?

Not me. Until it happened.

My shoulder has had issues for several years. I believe it’s from all those years of cross stitching (my favorite pastime) the repetitive motion that led to discomfort and, at times, pain. I’ve even given up cross stitching altogether because of my right shoulder.

In yoga classes, whether as a student or a teacher, I improvise, adjust, and baby my shoulder whenever I lower my body to the floor. I know I’ve grown stronger over time, but the fear of hurting my shoulder has always held me back from fully committing to the movement.

Yet last week, during a class I was teaching, there I was: core engaged, chin slightly forward, neck in line with my spine, elbows tucked against my ribs, lowering down to the mat without my belly dropping first.

I was shocked. Surprised. Elated.

I guided everyone through another vinyasa, and I did it again.

In those two brief moments, I realized I had built enough core, shoulder, and triceps strength, and trust in my body, to lower down with control.

I celebrated quietly, internally.

I let a sense of pride wash over me.

Truth be told, I wanted to bring the class to mountain pose and shout from the top of my lungs, “I did a chaturanga!”

But I didn’t.

I continued guiding my students through the rest of class. Yet I didn’t let the moment go unnoticed for what it was: a moment to offer love and appreciation to myself for what I had accomplished.

As a yoga teacher, I’ve often felt embarrassed for not being able to complete a full chaturanga. But this moment gave me the confidence to keep trying.

Yes, it’s important to listen to my body and my shoulder, and to never push too far. I know how long it takes to recover from an injury, and I will never risk harm just to prove something.

But wow. This was big.

I felt immense love for my body and deep gratitude for what it was willing to do for me.

I move my body several days a week. I work out. I sweat.

And in return, my body has grown stronger. I have developed a deeper level of trust with it. With my shoulder.

In appreciating what my body can do, I found compassion for the part of me who felt self-conscious and I found greater love for myself.

It’s in appreciating the small things, and sometimes the big things, that we build our self-love muscle. When we take the time to reflect, acknowledge, and quietly celebrate within ourselves. For ourselves.

This my friends, is unconditional self-love in action.

One recognition, one appreciation, one Chaturanga, one stepping stone at a time.

It was right in front of me the whole time.

Self-love.

It’s something I’ve been practicing, though not fully conscious of it, for the past seventeen years.

Everything I’ve done on my journey to self-realization has been an act of self-love.

Everything.

Purchasing my first journal and reading my first self-help book.
Dissolving the identity I manufactured on those political message boards.
Looking in the mirror and reciting the affirmations: “I am willing to change. I am willing to learn how to love myself.”

Acts of self-love.

I’ve made great strides when it comes to accepting myself, my brightest qualities and the parts still in progress. But it wasn’t until recently that I became aware of the soft, subtle ways self-love shows up.

Self-love shows up in:

The appreciation for small steps.
The recognition of a personal practice.
The gratitude for making a different choice.

We, as women, often see self-love as something that requires a grand gesture; being productive, achieving something visible, or putting the needs of others before our own care.

Small actions like resting, taking a walk, setting a boundary, speaking a truth, or softening toward a pattern of behavior are often overlooked because they don’t offer immediate, tangible results or societal recognition.

But we don’t need society to recognize the love we cultivate for ourselves.
And we don’t need society’s permission to cultivate it.

Self-love is an intimate practice, and its results are often abstract.

Results can look like:

Feeling better about yourself.
Becoming more confident and empowered.
Developing greater self-awareness.
Pursuing what truly matters.

Many people equate self-love with expensive, time-consuming, or Instagrammable “spa-day” gestures rather than small, quiet, daily actions.

Others have internalized the idea that self-love is arrogant or narcissistic. They come to believe that prioritizing their own needs is wrong, and they end up feeling guilty or telling themselves they’re lazy.

Self-love is:

Daily, small acts of kindness.
Acts of affection toward oneself.
Maintaining personal practices.
Following through with intentions.
Gently exploring one’s thoughts, beliefs, and perceptions.
Meeting uncomfortable emotions with curiosity and a willingness to understand.

I can see now how focusing on negative experiences, self-criticism, and a sense of unworthiness caused me to downplay any act of kindness toward myself.

I can see that believing I didn’t deserve love and fearing the shame of conditional love made it difficult to accept that treating myself with compassion matters.

I can see how my anxiety made it feel not “safe” enough within myself to allow a moment of comfort to feel like love.

Small acts of self-love are subtle. They don’t provide an immediate ego boost, applause, or visible validation.

Self-love is a personal journey. It is a consistent practice of self-respect.

It does not say, “I must go to the gym.”
It says, “I want to take care of my body.”

It is not avoiding discomfort through distraction.
It is gently facing uncomfortable truths about myself.

Self-love is present every time I pause and appreciate something about myself.
Self-love is present every time I feel gratitude in my body.
Self-love is present in recognizing when I choose differently, when I show up for myself, in my creativity, and in my willingness to change.

So with all that said, I made the heartfelt decision to change the name of my Substack publication from Curiosity Is Openness to Stepping Stones to Self-Love.

Absolutely everything I’ve done over the past seventeen years has been an act of self-love.

Everything I want to write about ultimately falls under one category:

Self-love.

When I launched my Substack, I thought I had a clear vision of what I wanted it to look like, feel like, and sound like. I created subtopics with the intention of writing specific types of content.

But the truth is, my entire journey has been one of self-love.

I originally set out with the intention of making the Stepping Stones a monthly offering for paid subscribers. But I realized that this fixed structure wasn’t working for me. I needed to allow it to be more fluid.

That was one realization.

The other, the decision to change the name of my publication, came during a moment of stillness. An act of love. A practice of sitting quietly for a minimum of five minutes each day, something I’ve been devoted to for the past three months.

These, my friends, are acts of self-love.

A committed practice of stillness.
Listening to my inner guidance.
Making a change that feels more aligned with my personal journey.

Self-love isn’t a destination I suddenly arrived at. It’s the path I’ve been walking all along, sometimes consciously, sometimes not, through every journal entry, every difficult realization, every small decision to treat myself with a little more compassion.

This is what self-love looks like for me right now. Listening. Adjusting. Allowing my path to evolve instead of forcing it into a shape that no longer feels true.

Stepping Stones to Self-Love simply gives a name to the journey that has been unfolding beneath my feet for the past seventeen years.

Just stepping stones… leading me back to self-love.

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I wrote last about the willingness to change as the next Stepping Stone. It is a foundational practice, one I invite you to consider and be open to.

Embrace uncertainty and be brave enough to step outside your comfort zone.

Affirm daily, “I am willing to change.”

Insist, “Show me the way.”

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Change can be frightening for many people because it often requires stepping into the unknown.

It disrupts established routines and can challenge our sense of security.

As humans, we tend to cling to what is familiar, and even the possibility of loss can create feelings of anxiety.

It’s normal to feel uneasy when facing change. Sometimes, however, change is thrust upon us when we least expect it, or when we least want it.

Unplanned change can disrupt the routines and patterns we rely on. It can bring stress, anxiety, and the difficult task of adjusting to new situations and environments. It can even challenge our sense of identity and leave us feeling vulnerable.

But the kind of change I want to talk about is different.

It is transitional, transformational, cultural, and - dare I say - radical change that you intentionally choose and act upon.

Transitional change replaces one way of doing things with another.
Transformational change involves deeper shifts where the future state may not yet be clear, but the change is driven by the individual.
Cultural change reflects changes in values, beliefs, and behaviors.
Radical change represents significant departures from the past and often requires entirely new approaches.

So what do these types of change have in common?

You.

You are the driving force behind them. You are the one who consciously decides to change something about yourself or your life. In this kind of change, you choose the direction.

You are, in a sense, in control.

And yet even when the change is intentional it can still be frightening to decide to change something.

I know that feeling well.

Because there was a moment in my life when I had to make exactly that kind of decision.

It was November 2009.

At the time, I was active on a political message board. For a couple of years, it had become part of my all-day routine that included debates, conversations, arguments, checking replies, defending positions. Checking, checking, checking.

Like many forums in the late 2000s, it was easy to get pulled in. Before long, it was consuming more mental space than it should have.

I eventually realized something important: my priorities were becoming skewed.

And I needed to step away.

So I created a one-way door for myself.

I changed my password to something completely random, wrote it down only long enough to complete the deletion process, and then destroyed the paper - tearing it into tiny pieces and throwing them away.

With the account gone and the password destroyed, the only way back would have been to create a brand-new account.

And there was no way I was going to do that.

It was a decisive moment. A very intentional one.

I didn’t just leave the message boards.

I closed the identity connected to them.

It was a turning point, a moment when I became conscious of my behavior while I was still inside it.

The constant checking had been taking up (all of my) mental bandwidth and quietly shifting my priorities. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my sense of self in the endless cycle of debate.

And if I’m being honest, there were deeper things underneath it.

I wanted to be liked.
I wanted to come across as intelligent.
I wanted to feel like I belonged.
I wanted to feel accepted.

My identity had become tangled up in old childhood wounds.

At some point I realized something else as well: I couldn’t blame the platform, the people on it, or the culture of the forum. I had to recognize my role in it.

The change had to come from me.

So I created a concrete barrier, something that made it difficult to continue the behavior.

Deleting the account and destroying the password symbolically closed that chapter of my life.

But the truth is, I was afraid.

I didn’t know what would fill the time.
I didn’t know what I would do next.
I knew I needed to change, but I didn’t yet know how.

For a while, I found myself navigating a sea of uncertainty, my sails of willingness guiding me forward.

And that is often what intentional change looks like.

You decide something must change.
You take a step.
You close the door behind you.

And then you begin the journey without fully knowing where the path will lead.

But you take a step. Then another. And another, trusting that in time the path will lead you to a better life and a better version of yourself.

Imagine your Heart as a sacred temple of Light. 💛🛕✨

Within that temple sits your human self.

Not as a problem to solve. Rather as a beloved being learning to remember.

You, as your Higher Presence, step into that temple each day and sit beside this human self.

You offer warmth.
You offer patience.
You offer a hand and say …

“We move together.”

Not to fix.
Not to rush.
Not to judge the cracks or the quiet.

In that moment you dissolve the ancient separation between Spirit and human because you are living as one.

When your inner voice becomes a companion rather than a critic you find that you move farther with less weight because you are walking with yourself rather than pushing against yourself.

“No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.” — Virginia Woolf

I would never tell you that I’m an anxious person.

I would never say that I live with high anxiety.

But the truth is — I do.

I am often in a hurry. I brace for impact before anything has even happened. It’s as though I’m constantly preparing myself for something difficult or unpleasant.

This is hypervigilance - my dysregulated nervous system that learned early on that it had to anticipate in order to feel safe.

Traffic exposes it and is one of my biggest triggers.

The moment I get behind the wheel, the floodgates open. Expectations rise. Entitlement creeps in. When someone drives the speed limit, I react. When traffic won’t move, I react. When bumper-to-bumper congestion finally begins to open and the driver in front of me hesitates before accelerating, leaving a wide gap, I react.

Rare is the moment when I simply drive in peace.

I love to drive fast — that’s true. But recently, I made a conscious decision to become curious about why I always feel the need to rush. Why the urgency? Why the pressure to get there quickly? Why the agitation if I don’t?

While driving, I began asking myself:

What’s behind the anxiety about arriving fast?
Why do I prefer an open road with no one in front of me?
Why does it bother me when someone else sets the pace?
Why am I so often angry behind the wheel?
What’s the hurry?

There’s a term in aviation called “get-there-itis” — the urgent, sometimes unsafe desire to reach a destination as quickly as possible. It’s often linked to poor planning or time management.

But that’s not my issue. My time management skills are solid.

So, what is it?

I realized something uncomfortable: it’s my sense of entitlement.

I become irritated when things don’t go my way. I don’t like when someone else dictates the speed at which I move — whether that’s on the highway or in the grocery store aisles.

Why does that bother me so much?

Entitlement is often described as the belief that one deserves special treatment without earning it. It can stem from insecurity, early boundary violations, trauma, or a need to compensate for unmet emotional needs.

When I looked inward honestly, I saw it. I create rigid expectations that other drivers should cater to me. When they don’t, I feel disrespected. I feel inconvenienced. I feel like a victim.

My “me first” mentality fuels the hostility and anxiety.

Drive faster!
Move over!
Pay attention!
Get off your phone!
Get out of my way!

In those moments, any sense of empathy I had disappears.

And if I’m honest, that demanding energy isn’t confidence — it’s overcompensation.

Underneath it, I sense a very young version of myself crying out:

“I need to be taken care of.”
“I need to be respected.”
“I matter too.”

It’s not arrogance. It’s old pain saying:

“Please don’t disregard me.”
“Please don’t make me small.”
“Please don’t overlook me again.”

It’s a protective strategy that says:

“If I control everything, I won’t be hurt.”

When I demand special treatment from strangers on the road, I am trying to generate safety externally. I am trying to soothe old shame. I am trying to correct the feelings of being abandoned, betrayed, neglected, abused, and loved conditionally.

But no one else can give me that consistently.

Only I can.

I can love myself.
I can value myself.
I can create safety within.
I can comfort the parts of me that feel small.

I can offer myself the protection, patience, attention, and care I have always deserved.

Instead of expecting other drivers to provide this for me, I’m taking responsibility for meeting it on my own.

That’s reparenting.
That’s integration.
That’s self-mastery.
That’s maturity — without self-rejection.

I may have learned entitlement early on as a survival strategy. But I am now learning something softer — that other people have needs too. That I am important, yes, but not more important than anyone else sharing the road.

Dissolving entitlement requires humility. It requires accountability. It requires gratitude.

Now, when I put my car in drive, I practice lowering my expectations. I remind myself that I am not owed special treatment.

Interestingly, even as I write those words, I feel my inner child resist them.

Because children are meant to feel special.

She still lives inside me, and she deserves care — but she doesn’t get to drive the vehicle of my life anymore. My role now is to gently reassure her. To tell her she is valued. To treat her with dignity. And then to extend that same dignity outward.

For we are all sharing this road. We are all navigating something.

Remembering this softens me.

Curiosity — that simple willingness to ask “why?” instead of reacting — has become a doorway. It has helped me see how anxiety disguises itself as impatience. How entitlement masks insecurity. How control attempts to create safety.

When I feel the tightening in my body I say internally:

“I am safe. I am not being disrespected. I am just delayed.”

Then ask:

“What am I afraid will happen if I’m two minutes later?”

The answers that emerge are often irrational and sometimes they are very old.

Through curiosity, I’ve become more aware of my patterns. Through awareness, I’ve opened the door to self-forgiveness. And through self-forgiveness, I am learning to love myself — without conditions.

Self-love in motion is the willingness to look at myself without collapsing into shame. It’s meeting an internal system that doesn’t fully trust stillness yet – and gently teaching it to.

Cultivating curiosity was the opening theme of The Stepping Stones to Self-Love during February. As the month draws to a close, I invite you to consider how you might bring more curiosity into your life — making it a foundational practice on your journey toward loving yourself without conditions.

Consider any misspellings my gift to you!

What are The Stepping Stones?

The Stepping Stones are monthly themes dedicated to helping you step into an expanded consciousness of self-love. Each month I will focus my offerings on a single area or topic related to a self-love path that helps you love yourself a little bit more each day.

This is a program I offered on another platform, and I bring to you here now, on Substack.

Each month I will put out a public post to announce the theme for the month. I’ll cover topics such as, the idea of change, additional foundational practices, the fear of selfishness, self-care, self-compassion, your cosmic Heart, belief systems, unplugging from technology, stillness, and so much more.

The Stepping Stones to Self-Love is exclusive to paid subscribers of my publication, Curiosity is Openness. No pressure, (seriously!) but if you decide you want to become a paid subscriber and join other women ready to become friends with themselves again, the cost of the full subscription is $7 a month or $77 a year.

You’ll receive direct access to The Stepping Stones and all content which will include guided moments of stillness, supportive affirmations, Soul-retrieval sheets, exercises, journal prompts, reflection questions, videos, potential live Zoom calls and other resources that can help you build lasting self-love practices.

✨ Paid subscribers!

Click HERE for exercises to help build your curiosity muscle.

Click HERE for resources for your self-love path.

Click HERE for a personal self-assessment related to self-love.

Click HERE for a Wheel of Self-Love assessment tool.

✨All documents are in PDF format for you to easily download and fill out directly on the form. Or, you can write your answers and any other discoveries or insights into your personal journal.

Meet Your Host

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching, (iPEC), the highest-ranked training program for coaches in the nation, an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF) where she received her Associate Certified Coach (ACC).

Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator and an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor, receiving her certification through The Center of Being. Shauna is also a CYT-500 (certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher), a certified Yin Yoga teacher and certified Restorative Yoga Teacher.

Shauna has over ten years of experience working with women in her community. She brings her deep coaching expertise and the practices and experiences of loving herself into all that she creates and shares in The Stepping Stones to Self-Love.

If my writing resonated with you and you’d like to read more, consider supporting me with a Hot Matcha Latte.

Support My Expressions

The guided visualization below addresses the energetic layer of ear ringing.

If you’re reading this I imagine that you, like me, often notice a faint ringing tone, like a high bell, like a subtle electrical hum, a high-pitched sound in the hush of your inner cosmos and in one or both of your ears.

As our intuitive hearing develops, there are minor energy centers near the ears that can become sensitive.

For some of us, it’s occurring in direct relationship to energetic surges. (Solar activity, planetary alignment, eclipse corridors, collective emotional peaks, etc.) Some of us are becoming more clairaudient. Some of us are simply becoming more sensitive to frequency.

In any case, all of us may benefit from visualization.

Our nervous systems are becoming more sensitive to frequency. We are becoming more finely tuned. When high-frequency energies move through our field, our bodies have to translate them into sensation. We can notice the “translation” in our ears, head, crown, and spine. Our systems are adjusting to a higher bandwidth and as we adjust we may notice static before we notice clarity. We are being recalibrated.

We are being invited to become more capable of embodying Light.

When the ringing grows louder, pause. Recognize it as a signal. Your system is receiving, processing, integrating. When you pause, you move into partnership with your body.

Inhale slowly and imagine you are receiving pure light through the crown.

Let it move gently through the head, through the throat, into the Heart.

Exhale slowly and imagine the excess energy moving down through the body, through the hips, through the legs, and into the earth.

Do not force it. Do not strain. Just guide it. (This is how you become a bridge between heaven and earth) Ground. Bring the energy down.

Gently bring awareness to the space just behind and slightly above each ear.

Imagine a soft, blue-violet spiral of light there. 🌀

Let it spin gently … calming … clearing … filtering.

See it dissolving static and releasing energetic debris.

Let the spirals create a subtle filter so only harmonious frequencies come through.

Two minutes is enough.

(Does this when you feel overwhelmed and notice what shifts.)

When you hear the ringing in your ear don’t resist the sound. Meet it. It is a sign of integration.

Find a quiet space and hum softly. Let a tone emerge naturally.

When you tone gently, you can soothe the nerves around the ears and crown and help your system settle into the higher bandwidth.

If you feel called to, try and match the tone of the ringing. This is not about singing beautifully. It is about vibration.

Your voice carries your Soul’s frequency.

If you resonate with the idea of LightWorker or Starseed, then consider becoming a free or paid subscribing of my publication, Curiosity Is Openness.

Subscribe now

If you liked this post, please share with others in your circle of Light.

Share

If you enjoyed this guided visualization and would like more, I invite you to buy me a Hot Matcha Latte.

Support

She hadn’t been in one of my classes before and though I’ve been teaching yoga for over a decade, I can still get in my head about new students in class.

The story I began to tell myself was laced in comparison and self-judgment.

It said …

She’s taller and thinner than me.

I’m shorter and heavier than she.

I mean really, who am I to be a yoga teacher anyway?

I’ll never be on the cover of Yoga Journal.

I’ll never be the next Lululemon Ambassador.

What right do I have teaching someone like her?

My inner narrative continued …

With a body like that, she probably prefers power yoga. So why was she in my class? I’m not going to be able to give her what she wants!

When she rolled out her mat on my right, I welcomed her, introduced myself, and went right back to the story playing out in my mind.

I teach a Hatha-based yoga practice. It’s not a beginner’s class and it sure as hell isn’t a power yoga or vinyasa flow class, but it isn’t what I would call, easy. It’s a middle-of-the-road practice. We flow right down the mid-line through a series of traditional poses with varying degrees of ease and difficulty. Most times it’s what I call a “strong” class.

But would it be enough?

I thought to myself, “She’s probably looking at me and questioning why she even came to the class.”

I wondered, “Is she thinking about how she could excuse herself and leave before class begins?”

Then I stopped, shifted my focus to my Heart, and I breathed.

The story was a bullshit lie and I knew it.

It was a familiar wound trying to surface and throw me off. It’s roots deep in a memory of being thirteen years old and having an adult family member as, “Why can’t you be thin like your friends?” An experience that set me up for a lifetime of comparison and self-judgment.

Or did it?

If I let the story fester and grow, if I found myself diving down a rabbit hole of despair and inadequacy, then the childhood experience and accompanying wound would reign. Class would have sucked and I would have projected my anger of unworthiness all over the people who love me most.

But I’ve come too far to let that shit happen. I’ve practiced enough introspection and self-honesty to know that the story was a wave beginning to build. If I didn’t catch it then and ride it out on a surfboard of self-awareness, I’d be tossed around in intensity.

So, I took a few seconds and let go of the story of pain, suffering, and victimhood and I created a new narrative. One that spoke of the exciting platform I have as a yoga teacher. It spoke of belief in myself, present moment awareness and the spaciousness that it brings. Space for self-acceptance, space for an inner smile, space for understanding and compassion, and space to love myself, without conditions.

I settled in and guided students through an energizing Sunday morning practice. As folks were leaving the studio the new student approached me and we got to talk. And guess what? She loved class.

It’s funny, you know. As I’m typing these words, I’m gently shaking my head from side-to-side and laughing. I’m laughing at the silliness of the stories we all make up about other people and ourselves. Most of the time the stories we tell (thoughts we think) are rooted in wounds, traumas, and negative beliefs and perceptions we have about ourselves, our lives, and the world around us. It’s crazy! Until it’s not. Until we consciously decide to change our narrative. Then life changes in the most profound and supportive ways.

For the record!

I do not want to be on the cover of Yoga Journal. If they called me and made the offer, I’d probably say yes but I don’t even read their magazine.

I do not want to be a Lululemon Ambassador. If they called me an offered an Ambassadorship, I’d probably say no because I don’t own a single article of their clothing.

What I want is to be me, exactly as I am, right now.

That’s enough.

I want to strengthen my practice of self-awareness and appreciate every small step I take in loving myself without conditions.

That’s enough.

I want to be more conscious of the narratives that run in the back of my mind and shift it to that which is more supportive and loving.

That is enough.

If you enjoyed this post, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Or you can always buy me a Matcha Latte.

Support

I sat down on a kitchen stool near the furnace, feeling the sting of regret and hearing a recognizable voice of self-punishment. But this time I noticed something more. I noticed a familiar feeling in my stomach; one I’ve felt countless times over the course of my life.

I wanted to escape life, so I got high. Sitting there in the basement, trying to manage my cough, I wanted to escape the awful feelings of shame and regret for getting high, so I decided it might be a good time to drop into a new personal practice of cultivating curiosity and see what this feeling in my stomach was all about. I imagined it couldn’t be worse than the berating, critical constellation of voices in my head.

I tuned into my solar plexus and invited the sensation back. It didn’t take long. I could describe it as a lightning bolt hitting my body just above my navel. It felt like a jolt or a shock. I leaned into the feeling and gave the lightning bolt permission to be there. I created space for it, and I got curious about what it might say if given a voice to speak.

I breathed, I felt, and I listened.

It told a story of doing something wrong and the need for punishment. It was an “Oh no! I’m in trouble!” moment when, as a child, I would brace in fear of an impending chastisement.

I checked in with myself and asked if this lightning bolt had something to do with getting high, and it did not. I felt regret for sure, but this sensation was highlighting something deeper. So, I sat with it for longer. Something was looking to be recognized and again, I breathed, felt, and listened.

I was guided to a memory from earlier that day; a remembrance of something I wrote and posted on Facebook. I immediately felt the sensation in my stomach again.

The story (my thoughts) told me that what I wrote sucked. I didn’t write the right thing. I didn’t get my point across correctly. I wasn’t articulate enough, and if anyone did read it, they would roll their eyes and laugh at me for being so stupid. Worse yet, no one will hit the like button.

This was when I began to sense a bit of overwhelm in my body, but I kept on.

I sat with it. I stayed with it. For as long as I could.

I was brought back again to childhood; not to any specific memory but it was more of a general overall feeling of dread and fear. I heard elders yelling and screaming. I felt the sting of wood or leather hitting my skin. I felt the shame of inadequacy. I felt small and helpless. I felt the memories of doing something wrong and being punished for it.

It all began to make sense.

I posted.

I judged the post.

I did something wrong.

No one is here to punish me, so I must punish myself.

💛

The action: I posted.

The thoughts: You didn’t get your point across in a way people will understand. You did it WRONG!

The feelings: inadequacy, shame, fear, embarrassment, anger, irritability, and anxiety.

The physical sensation: bolt of lightning in my solar plexus.

The behavior: rigidity, controlling my environment and everyone in it, irrational lash-outs, bitter verbal criticisms, self-punishment, deleting the post, getting high.

The outcome: Silenced self-expression, strained relationships, stress, a screaming esophagus.

💛

I was beginning to understand, through a simple desire to become curious, what was active inside me, how things are connected, and how my personal childhood issues negatively impact my life as an adult.

As a child I was told what to do and what to say and when those expectations weren’t met, there was consequence. There was punishment. I learned to look outside of myself for approval of what was right and wrong and what was good and bad. I learned not to trust myself. As an adult, I didn’t trust myself enough to express myself in ways that felt authentic. I was still looking for an outer authority to tell me that what I did or said was acceptable or not “wrong.”

The sensation of the lightning bolt hitting my belly was such a familiar feeling that I never really thought much about it until that day. I believed it was just me, a natural part of me. But it wasn’t. It was a wound, a trauma, a fractured part of my Soul crying out for help. Over time, and with many moments filled with stillness and curiosity, I discovered I lacked inner authority.

My mantra became, “I am my own authority. I know what’s best for me. I am living my life the right way for me.”

Curiosity helped me to recognize the sensation and heal it. (I haven’t felt it in years!)

Curiosity was my guide, my best practice in reclaiming my inner authority and spiritual sovereignty.

Curiosity was the tool that helped me understand and dissolve the fear around quitting my use of marijuana, forever.

It’s been four and a half years since I discarded all the paraphernalia needed for getting high. But this isn’t a story of recovery or living a clean lifestyle. It’s a story of an intrinsic desire to explore and understand, a story of a simple and profound practice of becoming curious about oneself with an intention to change, to heal, to transform. This story is an invitation of willingness. A willingness to be curious about a thought, a feeling, an emotion, a behavior, a trigger, a pattern, a habit, a fear, or a physical sensation.

For anyone looking to heal aspects of their life and to call back the fragmented parts of their Soul, curiosity is the first step, the foundational practice, for any human seeking to step into an expanded consciousness of self-love.

February’s theme in The Stepping Stones to Self-Love is fostering exploration through a willingness to be curious.

What are The Stepping Stones?

The Stepping Stones are monthly themes dedicated to helping you step into an expanded consciousness of self-love. Each month I will focus my offerings on a single area or topic related to a self-love path that helps you love yourself a little bit more each day.

This is a program I offered on another platform, and I bring to you here now, on Substack.

Each month I will put out a public post to announce the theme for the month. I’ll cover topics such as, the idea of change, additional foundational practices, the fear of selfishness, self-care, self-compassion, your cosmic Heart, belief systems, unplugging from technology, stillness, and so much more.

The Stepping Stones to Self-Love is exclusive to paid subscribers of my publication, Curiosity is Openness. No pressure, (seriously!) but if you decide you want to become a paid subscriber and join other women ready to become friends with themselves again, the cost of the full subscription is $7 a month or $77 a year.

You’ll receive direct access to The Stepping Stones and all content which will include guided moments of stillness, supportive affirmations, Soul-retrieval sheets, exercises, journal prompts, reflection questions, videos, potential live Zoom calls and other resources that can help you build lasting self-love practices.

✨Paid subscribers! You’ll find exercises to help build your curiosity muscle, HERE!

✨Paid subscribers! You’ll find resources for your self-love path, HERE!

✨Paid subscribers! You’ll find a personal self-assessment related to self-love, HERE!

✨Paid subscribers! You’ll find a Wheel of Self-Love assessment tool, HERE!

The self-assessments are designed to help you become curious and understand, gently, where you are currently on your path to loving yourself, without conditions.

All documents are in PDF format for you to easily download and fill out directly on the form. Or, you can write your answers and any other discoveries or insights into your personal journal.

Meet Your Host

Shauna received her Professional Coaching Certification (CPC) through the Institute for Professional Excellence in Coaching, (iPEC), the highest-ranked training program for coaches in the nation, an accredited school of the International Coach Federation (ICF) where she received her Associate Certified Coach (ACC).

Shauna is a Certified Global Sisterhood® Facilitator and an Integrated Energy Therapy® Master/Instructor, receiving her certification through The Center of Being. Shauna is also a CYT-500 (certified 500-hour Yoga Teacher), a certified Yin Yoga teacher and certified Restorative Yoga Teacher.

Shauna has over ten years of experience working with women in her community. She brings her deep coaching expertise and the practices and experiences of loving herself into all that she creates and shares in The Stepping Stones to Self-Love.

Subscribe now

Become a paid subscriber to Curiosity is Openness and receive every article, resource, assessment tool, video, meditation, and so much more in The Stepping Stones to Self-Love.