I've Coached Hundreds Of Women. Most Won't Make This Simple Choice

Or... Most people don't want to do the work. They want someone else to do it for them.

You don’t need another newsletter. You need your next move.

Call for Heroines delivers bi-weekly Pocket Quests and travel-soaked Postcards from a Midlife Elsewhere, both designed to help you shift your story and reclaim your plot.

And don’t miss the “Totally Awesome Mini-Quest Show” (LIVE every Sunday at 2:30 pm ET) for even more bold quests, story reframes, and real talk about what midlife reinvention actually looks like.

After countless coaching sessions, I’ve stumbled upon an ugly secret: most folks would rather daydream about change than roll up their sleeves and make it happen.

If it hasn’t happened already, there will be a day when you face a choice.

Let’s pretend your husband made you go on a sea fishing trip. (Please don’t include me in this imaginative adventure, or you will end up with puke on your shoes.) It’s an okay day. Although cloudy and humid, it’s not raining, and there is a pleasant breeze.

Let’s add some more senses to make this more real. You’re sitting on a padded bench in the boat's rear (don’t ask me what that’s called, I don’t know). The padding is a little damp under your bum, but that’s okay because you’ve got your bathing suit on under your clothes. The fishing guide said there might be an opportunity for a swim later, but the water is pretty choppy and unfriendly, so you're not counting on it. Your fingers dig into the boat’s edge, and you’re picking at the sun-cracked paint with the same satisfaction as popping bubble wrap. The smell of the salt in the briny breeze is overwhelmed by the pungent aroma of old fish guts. You can still taste the morning coffee you gulped down, a bitter reminder now nagging at your bladder. However, you glimpsed the state of “the head” through the opened hatch that leads below, so you squeeze your legs together and hold it. Maybe a swim would be a good idea. All you can hear is the snuffling of the fishing guide as he blows his marbled nose for the hundredth time, your husband cursing under his breath in frustration, and the squawks of the equally frustrated seagulls who aren’t getting the breakfast they expected.

Then something amazing happens. The fishing guide calls out and points to the island before you.

“It’s Oprah Winfrey’s island,” He says, tucking his snot-stained hanky into his overalls. (I don’t know if Oprah Winfrey owns an island, okay? Just go with it.)

The guide continues, “I hear she’s got all kinds of good stuff over there. She’s got a spa, a private chef, a massive pool, and a litter of puppies in their cute stage (okay, I added that last one). Word is, anyone who visits is invited to stay for as long as they want. Oprah loves company.”

You look over at your husband, who is visibly straining to avoid your gaze.

“Can we go?” you ask.

“I’m fishing.” Your husband says.

“He’s paying.” The fishing guide says.

You look back at the island and measure the distance before you. Maybe a quarter-mile swim? No problem. But the water is so choppy. And there might be sharks, or at least jellyfish. And how would you get home? And what if Oprah is out? A million excuses run through your head before you eventually lean back on your damp cushion and resume picking at the peeling paint of your comfort zone.

You’d go if the fishing guide drove you there. It’s not your fault he won’t help you.

I used to coach kick-ass women. Plenty of go-getters thrived with my guidance, and seeing them soar was my jam. Wanna know why I stopped? Because the majority wanted someone else to do the work for them. Just like that guide isn’t getting paid to ferry you to Oprah’s island, I didn’t get paid to build someone else’s dream.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Maybe finding your extraordinary means an easy quarter-mile swim through choppy waters; perhaps it gets tougher, and you even encounter a shark. The point is... only you can make that swim! You are the only one who can do the work to get onto Oprah’s island, my heroine. Life’s either a spa and a litter of puppies or a damp bum and the stink of fish. The truth is, most women choose the wet bum. But you, you’re cut from a different cloth. A heroine's cloth.

Journal Prompt:

Grab your journal, and let’s make this fun—write a letter to the ‘Captain’ of your life (yep, that’s you, darling). What’s stopping you from taking that first step or paddle toward a better life? Catalog your choppy seas, sharks, the stingy jellyfish, and the unwilling partner. What can you do to make those obstacles less scary? Maybe just writing them down will be enough.