Women need something deeper. Something real. Something that isn’t about plastering over insecurities with a cheery mantra but actually addressing the roots of self-doubt.
Here’s the truth: We’ve been sold a lie that loving yourself should be easy or instantaneous. It’s not. And it’s no wonder women feel stuck—we’re navigating a world that constantly tells us to shrink, self-police, and blend in. What we need isn’t another campaign asking us to “love our flaws.” What we need are spaces where we can strip away the noise, see ourselves clearly, and show up without judgment.
Safe spaces matter. They’re the antidote to a lifetime of filtering, fixing, and deleting pieces of ourselves to fit in. They’re where we can look at ourselves—messy, real, unedited—and say, “This is me.” Not for approval, not for likes, but for us.
Because seeing yourself clearly is about more than a mirror or a photo. It’s about rediscovering the person you are underneath all those layers of expectation. It’s transformative, personal, and yes—completely possible.
It’s fascinating how one person can reach their breaking point, decide to love their body, and walk away from the toxic culture that told them they weren’t enough. They tell their story to inspire others, and that’s great—amazing, even. But let’s be honest: if you’re not also there, ready to be done, their words do the opposite of inspiring you. They add to the shame and pressure you already feel - not good enough and not able to get past it, gracefully.
Or maybe that was just me.
Either way, I hit my breaking point. But being the perpetual outsider thinker (hello, Gemini rising here), I didn’t just want to decide to love myself, to wait for the day when I was over it—I wanted to understand why I couldn’t. Why my brain seemed incapable of seeing what others swore was true. To others, I might have seemed beautiful, maybe even enviable in my unawareness. But to me?
I was a troll on a rampage. Too tall, big-shouldered, awkward, lumbering—a ghastly beast with a five-head so big it could be rented out for billboards. Thinning hair. Eyes the color of cow dung. A lower belly pooch that puffed out like I’d swallowed a beach ball every time I drank a glass of water. Decrepit. Crypt Keeper chic. Always the outsider. The unwanted third wheel.
That’s the thing about self-perception. It isn’t logical. It doesn’t listen to what others say. It festers in the quiet, dark corners of your brain, shaping what you see in the mirror every day. And that’s exactly why I knew I couldn’t just cheerlead myself into loving what I saw. I had to understand it first. I had to dig deep, challenge the narratives I’d internalized, and slowly—painfully—learn to see myself as I truly was, not as the troll my mind made me out to be.
Because here’s the irony: If we don’t address why we see ourselves this way, we’ll never truly change what we see. And that’s why the work of seeing yourself clearly isn’t just transformative—it’s revolutionary. It’s the start of everything.
Thank you, but no. I don’t want to be “inspirational.” I don’t want to be the woman on the pedestal, offering vague encouragement from a distance.
That pedestal creates separation, a sense of unattainable perfection, and—let’s be real—yet another reason for women to feel like they’re not enough.
What I really want is to sit beside you, not above you. To stand shoulder-to-shoulder and help you navigate the messy, complicated, and deeply human process of seeing yourself clearly. I want to meet you where you are—in the doubt, the frustration, the longing—and offer something real. Not inspiration, but a shared truth. A set of tools. A practice that changes the way you see yourself in the mirror and in your life.
Because inspiration alone doesn’t move the needle. If anything, it can feel isolating when you're struggling and someone else has "figured it all out." That’s not what I want to be for women. I don’t want to be a polished image of what’s possible; I want to be in the trenches with you, doing the work and showing that it’s okay to be imperfect along the way.
I don’t want to inspire you—I want to give you the tools to inspire yourself.
To take action. To feel seen. To start rewriting the story in your own voice, without needing anyone else’s permission or validation. Because when women step into their own visibility—not as a performance, but as their real, unapologetic selves—it doesn’t just change their lives. It changes everything.
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