The day I decided to drop out of my Master’s degree, I sat in the same classroom for four hours, ignoring the lesson being taught. I was emailing back and forth with my dad, trying to process this life-shifting decision. Eventually, I walked out of the building and called my mom in tears to announce a decision I knew she’d have trouble with. I couldn’t explain it fully at the time, but I knew it was right.

That moment cracked open the slow, layered shift that would become my life’s work.

The process was intense. I got as much judgment as support in the five months I took to prepare for my departure. I experienced in turn grief and joy, sometimes juggling them both at the same time. I didn’t yet have the words or the confidence to stand firmly in my choices, but I had the follow-through. I knew something in me needed to outgrow the expectation of a traditional path, getting a degree or entering the workforce right away.

First, I left the life I’d known for 18 years in Switzerland.
I moved out of my home in Neuchâtel, rehomed my cat (who’s still with the same family), and packed what mattered into my mom’s basement in Geneva, where I worked to build savings and plan my travel budget. Then I left for two years, returning only as a short-term visitor. Instead of moving back to Switzerland, I settled in Atlanta.

That was the beginning of my decade-long journey. One that became simultaneously more complex and joyful. Since then, I’ve moved through:

• A career in editorial mentorship

• A depression that softened me instead of hardening me

• A marriage that grew alongside me

• A miscarriage that deepened my trust in timing

• A birth under hypnosis—six hours in trance until my daughter landed in my arms

• A business born in the soft chaos of early motherhood 

Every season asked something new of me. Every transition reintroduced me to myself. And slowly, I learned to trust the shifts instead of resisting them.

This offer was born out of real life—messy, beautiful, relentless life.

It’s for people who have done the work, but still feel like something’s not clicking. For people navigating change with kids in the background, bills on the table, and a hundred browser tabs open in their mind.

Clarity doesn’t mean your life stops moving.
It means you stop fighting yourself as it moves.

If you’re ready to hear that small, steady voice again—the one that already knows the next right thing—this is your invitation.

Shift to Clarity is not therapy. It’s not coaching. It’s something in-between and beyond. It’s the focused attention and honest reflection you didn’t know you were craving.

We start where you are, and move forward, one brave week at a time.