A Reintroduction (Because This Moment Demands It)

Perhaps this is a good time to reintroduce myself.

You hopefully know me as Laura with the big heart. 

Your biggest cheerleader and your most honest mirror, often in the same breath. I'm soft and strong, bringing equal parts love and truth to everything I do. I swear like a sailor but try to write like a scholar. I show up with abundant energy and an unshakeable belief in what's possible for you; sometimes before you can see it yourself. I'm strategic and spiritual, practical and profound. I find self-awareness sexy and spreadsheets spiritual. I hold space in dark times with you, but I never lose sight of your light, even when you've temporarily misplaced it.

And yes, I believe in hard conversations - even when our voices shake.

But there's something I need to tell you about what's been happening, and what it's teaching me about the work I do in the world.

The Pattern I Can't Ignore

When I write about alignment, intentional living and leadership, and designing lives around what matters most - people show up. They share their stories with me. They tell me about the breakthrough they had at 3 AM, or the decision they finally made, or the boundary they set that changed everything. I feel the connection, the trust, the willingness to be vulnerable with me. It fills me up.

But when I take a stand for what I believe is right? When I honor my values in real time, especially around what's happening in the world right now? When I post about the things that keep me up at night, the injustices I can't stay silent about, the truths that need speaking?

Crickets.

Sometimes a quiet unfollow. Occasionally, pointed silence from people I thought knew me.

I get it. I do. It's uncomfortable. It feels risky. It might even feel too political, too divisive, too... much.

And yet.

Here's What We Don't Talk About Enough

My work has always been about speaking truth. Having vital conversations. Living deeply held values - not just writing them in your journal, but actually living them when it costs you something. Setting boundaries that matter. Making hard choices that align with who you really are and who you're becoming.

But what I don't often say out loud - what maybe I haven't said clearly enough - is this:

All of that comes with risk.

Real, tangible, sometimes painful risk.

The risk of losing friends who can't handle your evolution. Clients who preferred the version of you that stayed quiet. Income that depended on you playing small. Relationships you thought were solid until you asked them to stretch. Parts of the life you built when you didn't yet know who you were becoming.

I know this because I've lived it. More than once.

I've sat in the financial uncertainty that comes from choosing integrity over income. I've felt the sting of silence from people I loved when I took a stand they didn't like. I've made choices that looked foolish on paper but were the only ones I could make and still sleep at night.

My parents - the most honorable people I know - taught me that integrity isn't negotiable, even when it costs you something. Especially then. They showed me that values aren't decorative. They're the architecture of a life that means something.

The Other Side of Risk

But here's what else I know, what I've learned in the messy middle of living this way:

If you're unwilling to take those risks, if you silence yourself to keep the peace, if you compromise your values to keep your community, if you make yourself smaller to make others comfortable, you lose something else entirely.

You lose your integrity. Your alignment. The confidence that comes from knowing you can trust yourself when it matters most. The courage that builds every single time you choose truth over comfort.

You lose the ability to look at yourself in the mirror and recognize who's looking back.

And that loss? It's not loud. It doesn't announce itself. It happens slowly, quietly, in a thousand small compromises that seem reasonable at the time. Until one day you wake up and realize you've been living someone else's version of your life.

I've coached enough people through that awakening to know: that loss is far more expensive than the risk of speaking up ever was.

Why I'm Reintroducing Myself Now

I'm reintroducing myself because at this moment in time, I'm standing firmly in my values. Not because it's easy or comfortable or good for business. Not because I think I have it all figured out. But because it's the only way I know how to be in the world.

This might look political to you. I understand why it might feel that way.

But it's not.

It's about honoring who I've always been - someone who believes that love is the answer, yes, but also understands that love isn't always soft. Sometimes love looks like hard conversations. Sometimes it looks like agreeing to disagree and accepting the loss that comes with it. Sometimes it looks like standing for something when standing costs you everything.

The kind of love I believe in has backbone. It has boundaries. It refuses to be complicit in its own diminishment or anyone else's.

Who I Am, Who I've Always Been

So here's what you need to know about me, especially now:

I will always stand for love, healing, compassion, forgiveness, and the courage to grow. I believe in seeing the humanity in everyone, even - especially - when it's hard.

And I will stand for truth. Justice. The rule of law. Democracy. Treating all human beings with dignity and respect. Accountability when those values are threatened.

These aren't political positions to me. They're not negotiable. They're the foundation of everything I believe about what it means to live with integrity and build a life that matters.

I can take a hard stand and still believe that love wins. I can disagree with you and still hold space for your journey. I can be disappointed in choices people make and still see their full humanity.

But I won't pretend that my values are up for debate. I won't make myself smaller to make others comfortable. And I won't stay silent when silence feels like complicity.

The Work Continues

This is the work, isn't it?

When I guide women to design lives they love, when we talk about alignment and authentic power and intentional success, this is what we're really talking about. The courage to live in integrity even when it's inconvenient. The strength to honor your truth even when others can't celebrate it. The wisdom to know that losing people who can't accept the real you isn't loss, it's clarity.

Every conversation we have about boundaries is practice for this moment. Every exercise in values alignment is preparation for the choice you'll face between comfort and integrity. Every time I encourage you to trust your inner wisdom, I'm really asking you to trust yourself enough to take the risk.

So when I stand for what I believe in; publicly, imperfectly, knowing full well it might cost me, I'm not abandoning the work we do together.

I'm modeling it.

An Invitation (Not an Ultimatum)

I love this community deeply. I'm absolutely fine if we disagree on all kinds of things. My closest friends and I disagree about plenty, and that diversity of thought makes us all sharper, more thoughtful, more human.

But not on these core values. They matter too much. They're too foundational to who I am and what I believe about building a life of meaning and impact.

If you choose to stay, I'm honored to continue this journey with you. I promise to keep bringing my full self;  the strategic mind, the big heart, the occasional profanity, and all the hard-won wisdom that comes from choosing integrity over comfort.

If you choose to leave, I understand. I still hold you in my heart. I still send you love. And I hope you find your own version of this courage,  the kind that lets you stand in your truth even when it's lonely.

Because that's what alignment looks like in real life. Not in some Instagram-perfect moment of enlightenment, but in the messy middle of choosing yourself even when others can't come with you.

It's standing in your truth while making space for others to stand in theirs.

It's knowing that the right people will stay, and the ones who leave were never meant for the version of you that's emerging.

What Comes Next

I'll keep writing about alignment and inner wisdom and intentional impact. I'll keep sharing frameworks for hard conversations and strategies for authentic leadership. I'll keep holding space for your dreams and your doubts and those 3 AM revelations that change everything.

And I'll keep taking stands that matter to me. Not to be provocative, but because staying silent isn't an option when silence contradicts everything I teach.

If that paradox makes you uncomfortable, good. Growth happens in discomfort. Transformation requires it.

The question isn't whether you'll feel uncomfortable as you evolve. The question is whether you'll let that discomfort stop you from becoming who you're meant to be.

I'm not letting it stop me.

I hope you won't either.

With all my heart (the big one, the one that's seen some things),

Laura x