15 Women in a Circle

What I witnessed about courage, being seen, and coming back to yourself

I wasn’t planning to go. I had a different circle in mind. I had things to do the next day. My manuscript was waiting for me. But something in me said go. And I’ve learned by now—when that voice shows up, ignoring it usually costs me more than just going. 😉

So I put my name on the waitlist for a women’s circle called Release and Reset. It was already full. I told myself, If it’s meant to happen, it will.

And then, at the eleventh hour, I was added. I arrived not knowing why I was there.

No clear reason. Just trust. There were fifteen of us. Women of different ages, different lives, different paths. And yet, as we sat in that circle and began to share, something settled in right away.

We weren’t that different at all.

Story after story carried the same threads—self-doubt, self-abandonment, questions of worth, limiting beliefs we had been living inside of for most of our lives. What stayed with me was how their bodies had been speaking.

Tightness. Fatigue. Pain.

A quiet knowing that something wasn’t right—long before the mind could name it.

There was laughter. Lightness. Presence. And if you had walked into the room, you might not have known what any of them had lived through.

That’s the thing about it. It doesn’t always look the way you expect. And yet, as they shared, it became clear—these were women who had walked through so much and were no longer defined by it. Not one of them was sitting in victimhood.

That part felt… complete.

They were reclaiming their power. Not loudly. Not performatively. But in the quiet, grounded way that comes from finally coming back to yourself. What I witnessed instead was something far more powerful:

Women on the edge of change.

Some were in the midst of career transitions. Some were beginning to explore creative parts of themselves they had set aside for years—to be responsible, to be practical, to be who they thought they needed to be for everyone else.

And now, something in them was asking for more. Not louder. But clearer. And then, in a completely different way— there was one woman. Who, after sharing what she had lived through… something shifted in her.

You could feel it.

And with this mix of grit, conviction, and just the right amount of fire… she declared clearly and without holding back—that we were all amazing. That we needed to keep going. To keep pushing through.

And yes, it caught us a little off guard. But it was also exactly what the moment needed.

Because it wasn’t performance. It was conviction. To lean into the messy middle. Because that’s where we meet ourselves. And through it— that’s where we become the women we are.

We spend so much of our lives learning how to wear masks.To hold it together. To be who we think we need to be. To keep the peace. To not be “too much.” And those masks… they protect us.

Until they don’t.

Because the body isn’t interested in the mask. It keeps score. It signals. It whispers—then nudges until it can’t be ignored. At some point, it was my turn to share. And I found myself speaking not from a place of completion but from being right in the middle of it.

I spoke about writing my book. About what it means to put something so personal into the world. About the weight of asking myself:

Do I really want to share this? Am I ready to be seen in this way?

The truth is—this next revision has been taking longer than I expected. Not because I don’t know what to write. But because every time I return to it, I have to go back into the story again. Each edit is a kind of re-entry. A reshaping of the chapter that asks me to relive it in a deeper, more honest way than I did before.

And if I’m honest…

I think I’ve been avoiding that a little. Not because I don’t want to tell the story. But because of what it asks of me to keep going there.To relive it and to let myself be fully seen. And then something shifted.

The women in that room didn’t pull back. They leaned in. They met my story with so much openness, so much encouragement, so much recognition—not just of me, but of themselves inside of it. And what I saw, so clearly, was this:

They were brave. 💛

Brave for showing up. Brave for taking off the mask, even just a little. Brave for naming the beliefs they had carried for years—I’m not enough. I’m not worthy. I have to hold everything together. Brave for being willing to look at it… and not turn away. That room gave me something I didn’t even realize I needed.

A reminder.

That was the call I was answering. I was meant to meet those women. And in a way, I didn’t fully realize until that moment—I had been writing to them all along. And in them, I saw it clearly.

My ideal reader was sitting right there in that circle. My ideal reader isn’t abstract anymore. She was right there in that room. All fifteen of them. And maybe… that includes you.

The one who has questioned her worth. The one who has stayed longer than she should have. The one who has learned to carry too much. The one whose body has been whispering and is finally ready to listen. And maybe the hesitation I’ve been feeling… isn’t about the writing at all. It’s about what it means to be seen. And in that moment, those women reminded me:

This story isn’t just mine.

So if something in you has been nudging you— a quiet pull you can’t quite explain— go.

If your body has been trying to get your attention— listen. If you’ve been hiding behind a version of yourself that feels safe, but not fully true—maybe it’s time to gently loosen the mask.

Because what I witnessed in that room wasn’t perfection. It was courage. And it was a reminder—for me, and maybe for you too— that you don’t have to become anything more to be enough. You already are.

As for me—

I’m going back to the manuscript. Not to rush it. Not to force it. But to move through it with a little more honesty than I had before. Because now I remember: I’m not writing into the void. I’m writing to the women already waiting for it. The ones I sat beside. The ones who saw themselves in my story and are ready to hear their own.

And in that— I’ve got this. ✨

And maybe, in your own way— so do you.

If something in this reflection resonated, you’re welcome to explore Reiki energy healing or book a complimentary 15-minute consultation.