I’m not a dating coach.
But I am a relationship coach—even if I’ve never quite billed myself that way.
Isn’t that what a life coach does, really? A business coach too?
Help you have better relationships. With yourself. With others. With Spirit.
So, I’m going to tell you a specific story—about my recent breakup, and the trip I took after. But the truth underneath it applies no matter what you’re grieving—a loved one, a job, a move, a relationship.
Three months ago, my boyfriend Forrest and I broke up. After three and a half years of long-distance dating, and real plans to move toward two-state living together. We had already discussed the big stuff: Riley, family, money, housing. We were that close.
Then, like a lightning bolt, he got clarity first, and I wasn’t far behind. He realized two-state living, at his stage of life (retired and sixteen years my senior), felt like too much. And I realized something too: I don’t want a boyfriend who visits. I want a life partner who stays. Someone to share my days with, not just my vacations. After many conversations and lots of tears, we agreed to part ways. We’re finding our way into a new friendship now and feel grateful for all we learned from one another.
Back when we were still a couple, my friend-I’d-never-met-IRL Jan, who lives in Vancouver, invited Forrest and me to come stay with her and her husband Andy. Jan and I have been writing accountability partners for two years over Zoom—meeting monthly, talking each other through our respective books. She’s penned a true crime medical memoir about surviving lung cancer three times, due out in 2027. I’m still working on my next book—a practical guide for people navigating adoption reunion, helping them build relationships for the long game (and I’m hosting a retreat on the topic in November!).
When I suddenly had a wide-open summer instead of my plan to be in Vermont, I thought of Jan. I inquired, “Is your invitation still open? Even if it’s only me?”
She wrote back immediately. “Absolutely, yes! Please come!”
I just returned from five days in Vancouver, British Columbia. Jan and Andy were the most generous hosts—a dim sum breakfast in Chinatown, shopping at the vibrant, artsy Granville Island, hiking on the glorious Capilano Pacific Trail and a drive clear across the city for the best Vietnamese food I’ve ever had.
But the details of the trip matter less than what happened inside me while I was there.
People know I’m an extrovert. What most people don’t know is that I hate being alone—traveling alone, eating at a restaurant alone, even being home alone most of the time. Five years ago, when Eric and I separated and Riley started splitting her time between houses, I dreaded those weeks on my own.
Over time, I’ve come to appreciate them (though I still shed a few tears each time she and I part—she’s my heart!). I’m more productive. I see friends regularly. I’ve learned to enjoy my own company—hiking alone or reading on the back porch for hours. But eating out alone? Still can’t do it. A movie alone? Not yet! Ha!
Yet, generally speaking, I’m a big believer in “feel the fear and do it anyway.” As I wrestled with how to heal my broken heart and let go of the future I thought I was going to have with Forrest, I thought about the adage “It takes time.”
But I knew I needed to shake things up.
Thus, the decision to go to Vancouver.
Alone.
But what I’m most proud of isn’t the trip itself. It’s that…
I said yes to an invitation.
I allowed myself to receive graciously.
I sat with the discomfort of the unknown.
I took a risk to stay with someone I’d never met in real life.
I traveled to an international destination by myself. A first.
I gave myself permission to be joyful as a solo traveler.
I spent money on myself, not in service of a relationship, or doing something for my daughter, or investing in time with friends. I gave myself a gift—the gift of travel and possibilities and expansion.
And what happened?
It was an EPIC vacation! I had my own guest suite. I sat on their porch overlooking the Pacific and the city of Vancouver every morning and every evening, just basking in the beauty. I read an entire book. I ate food I’d never eaten.
And OH YEAH, I was the guest at my first international book club discussing Sacred Celebrations!
I didn’t go to Vancouver to figure out my next chapter. I went to remember how to be alone without it feeling sad, but to revel in just being me.
Somewhere between that porch overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the plane ride home, I felt something shift.
Not just in how I’ve been grieving but in how I’m receiving.
Love, joy, opportunities, a future I didn’t script for myself.
That’s the same permission I keep coming back to in my work with coaching clients. When we are grieving something, it takes time, reflection and perspective to move forward. Each day, each week, gets easier when you integrate the change in direction and you open yourself up to a new path.
Whether I’m working with a member of the adoption constellation, a business owner who’s navigating expansion or a professional woman who’s navigating grief and loss, I know that without a doubt, each step forward is about opening yourself to the next more expanded version of you. And that’s pretty darn exciting. If that’s you and you’re seeking guidance, let’s talk.
I’m in the middle of making some changes in my business and will reveal more soon. For now, I just want you to know that whatever you’re grieving, whatever you’re afraid to say yes to next—you don’t have to have it figured out to take the first step. You just have to be willing to receive what’s on the other side of it!