Before I tell you what’s coming tomorrow (yes, new doors open tomorrow), I want to send this email to the part of you that might already be chiming in with any of these.

“I don’t need another program.”

“This isn’t necessary.”

“What would I even have to show for it?”

“I can’t split my attention any further.”

If any of that rings true for you, I’m here to say that I have also thought every single one of those thoughts.

When I first invested in coaching, I wasn’t 100% convinced it was “necessary.” I didn’t see a defined, clear outcome or defensible proof that it wouldn’t just be money disappearing into the ether.

To be honest, after more than one coaching call, I’d sign off Zoom feeling hollowed out and full of self-doubt.

I’d think, I’ve done all this work, and I have no proof it will go anywhere. Was it worth paying this much when I still don’t know if any of it will lead to me building a sustainable program?

Part of me worried it was indulgent. A sign of my privilege and my old habit of looking for an authoritative voice to give me “the answer”. Especially in a world where everything feels urgent and precarious and on fire, who was I to choose this?

Ultimately, it came down to this underpinning question.

Who am I to invest in myself when everything around me feels more fragile than I am?

Most of us secretly hope that if we wait long enough, circumstances will settle themselves. We won’t need to keep reaching for stability and certainty, because it’ll eventually arrive. But in these days of polycrisis, that stability is—sorry, but it’s true—just not coming.

Instead of finding certainty, here’s what I learned by choosing to invest in myself despite my doubts.

What’s necessary isn’t always measurable.

Sometimes the most necessary support is the thing that doesn’t generate a hard result, but quietly rebuilds the inner scaffolding everything else hangs on.

Coaching didn’t give me guarantees that all my programs will always work out perfectly.

But it did give me capacity.

The capacity to stop treading the waters of my self-doubt long enough to see the possibility horizon.

The capacity to lean into my own uncertainty instead of bracing against it.

The capacity to build work that’s deeply in line with who I am, not who I thought I had to be.

That capacity is the reason this new offer exists at all.

So, again, because it’s worth repeating:

The world isn’t going to get simpler in the next few years, but you can get steadier.

You can:

✨ expand your bandwidth
✨ reorient how you meet instability
✨ cultivate tools that let you stay curiously, intuitively, imaginatively human, even when conditions are harsh.

That isn’t frivolous. It’s foundational.

Burnout isn’t noble. Exhaustion doesn’t make you a better citizen of a chaotic world. And the people you support don’t benefit from you running on fumes.

So if any part of you is whispering, “Maybe I do want support, even if I feel guilty about it,” here’s a heads up.

Tomorrow, I’m opening the doors to an intimate new program (max ten people) designed specifically for this kind of capacity-building. It’s built around experiential sessions, zero homework, exploration, and surprise. It’s a collective space where you can shift from bracing against uncertainty to flexing with it.

You’ll get all the details tomorrow (look for a 🧭-headed subject line in your inbox). Today, I just want you to know it’s real, and that you don’t have to navigate the next season alone.

More soon. I’m so glad we’re here together.

With warmth and steadiness,
Rachel

P.S. As you look back at 2025, if you’d had even 10% more capacity this year—not productivity, but internal steadiness—what’s something you might have said yes to?