A Story of Trust: When Dreams Unfold on Their Own Timeline
What I learned about surrender, staying power, and believing in the right timing when my biggest vision tested everything I teach.
I don't remember the exact moment the dream crystallized, but it's been there forever—this deep knowing that I'm meant to bring women together in beautiful spaces to explore what's truly possible.
There's something that happens when women gather with intention. Something shifts. Something opens.
I've been carrying this vision of creating that container for as long as I can remember.
In November 2024, as I mapped out my intentions for the year ahead, I stopped waiting.
I decided to finally do the thing—to commit to my first destination retreat for a group of extraordinary women.
I reached out to Pedro Luna, my beloved yoga teacher, mentor, and friend who's built an incredible business leading retreats worldwide. He was generous with his wisdom, pointing me toward Costa Rica and a place called Anamaya. I booked it for the first week of January 2026, set a goal of ten women, and asked my dear friend and colleague Kim DeYoung to co-facilitate with me.
One year to find ten women who'd want to join us. One year to design the retreat I've always wished existed.
Then the countdown began.
Here's what I don't talk about enough: I've spent the past decade practicing trust and surrender, and it still doesn't come easily.
For most of my life, I've been deeply uncomfortable with uncertainty. My need for certainty has driven decisions that weren't necessarily wrong—they just closed doors before I could see what else might walk through them. I've missed opportunities because sitting with the discomfort of not knowing felt harder than just making something happen.
By the end of February, three women had signed up. I felt great.
Then nothing. Two months passed with complete silence.
As the world got more turbulent and my life got busier, I felt my confidence start to crack. Despite knowing—knowing—that I'm meant to gather women and hold space for transformation, the self-doubt crept in anyway.
Months crawled by. My imposter syndrome moved in and got comfortable. The fear and scarcity felt crushing.
Every few weeks, I'd swing between canceling the whole thing (read: running away) and forcing myself to breathe. This was my chance to practice what I preach—to trust the unfolding, to believe that the right women would show up exactly when they were meant to.
Here's what kept me grounded when the fear got loud:
I reminded myself that silence isn't the same as failure. Sometimes the best things take time to find their people. I learned to stop checking my email obsessively and started checking in with my inner knowing instead—the part of me that said yes to this dream in the first place.
I practiced asking myself better questions. Not "What if no one signs up?" but "What if everything is unfolding exactly as it should?" Not "Am I good enough for this?" but "Who am I becoming by staying committed to this vision?"
I kept moving forward, even when the steps felt small. I refined the retreat design. I visualized the women who would be there. I held the vision of what we'd create together, even when the registrations weren't rolling in.
And perhaps most importantly, I stayed connected to my why. This isn't about filling seats or proving something. This is about creating the transformational experience I know women need—the one I needed. When I reconnected to that truth, the fear couldn't hold the same power.
I know most of us struggle to take big swings. To be bold and courageous when it counts. To actually build the lives and create the things we deeply desire.
I know the practice of trusting life to support us—of surrendering to possibility instead of controlling outcomes—is hard work.
I don't just know this. I coach women through it every single day. And still, it's a daily practice for me too.
The day before Thanksgiving, our retreat sold out.
Ten extraordinary women are joining us for this journey, and I can barely contain my excitement.
But here's what matters more than the sold-out retreat: I stayed. I didn't run when it got uncomfortable. I practiced the trust and surrender I've been teaching. I learned that the timeline I created in my head wasn't the one life had in mind—and life's timeline was better.
I'm sharing this because you need to know you're not alone.
If you're sitting on something big and bold,
If you're afraid,
If you're convinced you're not good enough, smart enough, or ready enough—
This is your sign.
You are.
And when the fear gets loud and the waiting feels impossible, come back to this: Your dreams don't need to unfold on your timeline. They need to unfold on the right timeline. Keep breathing. Keep believing. Keep taking the next small step.
The women who need what you're creating will find you. Trust that.
