I’m Not Here to Inspire You — I’m Here to Wake You Up

Let me start with something honest:

I’m not here to inspire you.

I’m not here to hand you quotes tied in pretty bows.

I’m not here to help you feel better.

I’m here to interrupt you.

To lovingly disrupt the narrative you’ve been repeating in your head.

To stand at the threshold of your numbness, your high-functioning pain, your beautiful survival and knock. LOUDLY!

Because something deeper is calling.

And I’m not going to let you scroll past it.

The Problem with Inspiration

Inspiration has become a feel-good drug.

You see a video. A quote. A reel. Something hits just right. For a moment, you feel something. A tear. A smile. A spark. But then what? You swipe up. You keep scrolling. You move on. Or keep watching it a 1000 times in a row.  

I know this pattern. I’ve lived it. I’ve even created content that’s played into it.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand:

Inspiration without disruption is just anesthesia.

It gives you a hit of hope without demanding transformation. And we’re not here for short-term comfort. We’re here for deep awakening. For soul shifts. For embodied change.

So no…..I’m not here to make you feel inspired.

I’m here to make you stop.

Pause.

Think.

Breathe.

Remember.

This Is a Wake-Up Call

There was a time in my life when I didn’t need a pat on the back. I needed someone to look me in the eyes and say:

“You’re not broken. But you’re not living either. And you know it.”

That moment came for me, again and again, after my son Drew died.

After betrayal.

After loss.

After I kept trying to rebuild my life without ever really being in it.

You don’t have to lose a child to know what I’m talking about.

You just have to know what it’s like to feel numb in a room full of people.

To laugh on the outside while dying on the inside.

To accomplish everything and still feel empty.

If you know that feeling, then this is for you.

This is your interruption.

The Truth Behind the Image

People look at me now and see strength.

Success.

Spirituality.

They see someone who “made it through.”

But here’s the truth: I didn’t “make it through” because I was strong.

I made it through because I got honest.

Because I stopped trying to be likable and started being real.

Because I stopped letting grief just hurt me and started letting it teach me.

Because I let it unravel the version of me that was performing survival and waited to meet the one who was born to live awake.

You don’t get to wholeness by pretending.

You get there by discovering, interrupting and owning your patterns.

By catching yourself mid-scroll and asking: What am I really hungry for right now?

The Patterns That Keep Us Asleep

We all have them.

The narratives.

The roles.

The unconscious agreements we made in childhood or trauma.

Mine sounded like this:

• Be the strong one.

• Don’t rock the boat.

• Make it look like you’ve got it together.

• Keep serving others so no one sees you falling apart.
  
  

But grief interrupted all of that.

It tore down the walls.

It destroyed the image.

It made me start over.

And thank God it did. Because now, I don’t serve others from my performance—I serve them from my presence.

So Let Me Interrupt You Now

Let me interrupt the story that says you have to wait until you’re “healed” to start living.

Let me interrupt the perfectionism that says you have to do it all alone.

Let me interrupt the belief that says being emotional makes you weak.

Let me interrupt the quiet agreement that says, “I’ll just keep getting by.”

Because getting by isn’t enough.

You weren’t born for fine.

You were born for freedom. For fullness. For a life that makes you feel awake, not just on Sunday mornings or at retreats, but on a Tuesday afternoon when the light hits your face and you realize you’re still here.

Alive.

Capable.

Connected.

And ready.

This Work Isn’t Gentle—But It Is Loving

Sometimes love looks like a mirror.

Sometimes love looks like a coach who won’t let you hide behind “I’m okay.”

Sometimes love looks like a blog that reaches through your screen and says:

“Hey. I see you. I love you. But this isn’t all there is.”

That’s what I want this to be. Not content. Not branding. Not optics.

A signal. A sacred interruption. A moment where something stirs inside you and whispers:

“You’re not crazy. You’re just waking up.”

What Happens After the Interruption

After the interruption comes the invitation.

To rebuild.

To reimagine.

To realign.

I don’t have all the answers. But I’ve built frameworks, tools, and communities that help you walk this path. 

Not perfectly.

Not quickly.

But powerfully.

Because when you finally stop numbing, you start noticing.

When you stop running, you start receiving.

And when you stop hiding, your life starts becoming yours again.

Your Life Is Too Sacred to Sleepwalk Through

This is the part where I could wrap it up with a feel-good quote.

But I’m not going to do that anymore. 

Instead, I’m going to leave you with this:

What would happen if you didn’t scroll past this moment?

What would happen if you let yourself be interrupted?

What would happen if you got radically honest about what’s no longer working in your life?

And what would happen if you finally gave yourself permission to begin again?

What part of you is quietly asking you to come back to living…. And are you willing to listen?