I want to start by acknowledging what might be true for you (if not for you, then for someone you know) — and that is, if you're struggling with your professional situation right now, it probably feels like you're drowning. And I need you to know that struggling doesn't mean you're not strong enough. It means you're carrying something heavy, and it's okay to feel the weight of it.

I've been sitting with something lately that I've been watching play out everywhere: in my own life, in conversations with clients, in the energy of our community. This pattern of waiting. Waiting to feel ready. Waiting for the fear to subside. Waiting for some cosmic green light that says, "Okay, NOW you can move forward."

Friday night. My phone buzzed with an invitation from neighborhood friends. A night out, laughter, nothing fancy. Just connection.

Old Laura would have declined without hesitation. I'd done it so many times before. I had work to do, things to finish, ways to get ahead. So much to do. No time to have fun. Staying in felt responsible. Going out felt indulgent. So I'd sit at my laptop after I put the kids to bed, manufacturing urgency, creating tasks to justify the sacrifice.

I used to wear my independence like armor.

Need help with something? No thanks, I've got it. Someone offering to take something off my plate? I'm good. A trusted friend trying to show me a blind spot? I'd smile politely and then go right back to doing things my way.

I thought that's what strength looked like. Handling everything myself. Never needing anyone. Proving I could carry it all.

I've been hearing a lot of "the market is terrible right now" from professionals in transition lately, and I have a strong opinion about that statement.

I know that being in transition is challenging and often feels terrifying, and that deserves acknowledgment. At the same time, I know that how you view the market and what you believe about it can change everything about your experience.

Last week I had a conversation with an executive who’s been in transition for four months with little to show for it. When I asked about how he promotes himself, he said something I hear constantly: "My work should speak for itself."

He is brilliant at what he does. Twenty years of solid results, respected by his teams, known for turning around struggling divisions. However, he was making a critical mistake that I often see.

He believed the myth: "If you're good at what you do, that's enough. The work speaks for itself."

I had lunch with a friend recently who perfectly captured something I see everywhere.

She holds a senior position at a consulting practice, volunteers on two nonprofit boards, leads her company's diversity initiative, mentors two junior colleagues, and recently started a podcast.

When I asked how she was feeling about everything, she paused for a long moment.

It didn’t feel good. Later she shared with me:

"Laura, I thought if I just did more, achieved more, became more visible in my field, I'd finally feel... enough. But I'm exhausted all the time, my family barely sees me, and honestly? I feel more empty than I did when I started."

This week I’d like to share a little story with you to illustrate another myth. 

A woman I know very well had just been promoted to head up an entire division for her company. The role she'd been working toward for several years. Team of 50 people. Budget authority she'd never had before.

Six weeks into the new position, she called me sounding exhausted.

Last week I was talking to a client who said something eye-opening to me:

"Laura, I know I should be grateful. I've worked so hard to get here. Everyone says this is just what success costs."

She's a VP at a Fortune 500 company. Big corner office. Six-figure salary. The whole package.

And she's completely exhausted.

I met with someone last week who'd been researching career coaches for three months. Three months of reading testimonials, comparing approaches, analyzing credentials.

When I asked what was holding her back from making a decision, she said, "I want to make sure I pick the right one."

What I noticed immediately: she'd already made the decision. She just wasn't trusting it.

Just one day after my book launch, what should have been pure celebration, I found myself spiraling into comparison mode.

There I was, scrolling Instagram (mistake number one), when I saw an author with over a million followers. That familiar feeling rippled through my body: You're never going to be as successful as this person.

All of a sudden, my incredible book launch felt... small.

Sound familiar?

I was talking with a new coaching client last week when she said something I hear all the time:

"Laura, it's so awful out there. The job market is terrible. I've got so many friends that have been going on 12 months, 18 months, no job."

Not two hours later, I'm on the phone with another client—same industry, similar background—who says:

"Laura, I am having an absolute blast. I can't remember a time in my life when I've been able to just focus on meeting new people with genuine curiosity, getting to know them and being so captivated by possibilities for the future. There's just so many problems out there to solve, and I just know that I will be led exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Guess who lands faster?

Forgive me, but I’m going to be direct with this one…

You wouldn't drive your car for months with the gas light on, wondering why it keeps sputtering. You wouldn't keep using a phone that dies at 20% battery and call it "normal." You wouldn't live in a house where the electricity only worked some of the time.

So why do some people go through the motions and just accept a life that feels drained?

What this week taught me about community, courage, and what's coming next

Tuesday, July 29th, Shine Brighter officially launched into the world. Wednesday, I found myself on Fox9 Good Day talking about the quiet epidemic of burnout. And that same evening, we celebrated together at the most incredible launch party I could have imagined.​

Here's what continues to amaze me: the incredible power of authentic community and what happens when you stop performing and chasing and striving and start showing up as exactly who you are.

When Fox 9 Good Day asked me about burnout recently, I found myself thinking about those 30,000+ interviews I've conducted over the years. What struck me most wasn't the individual stories, but the pattern—so many high-achievers looking successful on paper but feeling completely disconnected from themselves inside.

I'm writing this with that warm flutter of anticipation, the kind you feel when something you've dreamed about is actually becoming real.

Over two years of pouring my heart onto pages, wrestling with vulnerability, and learning to trust that my story might help someone else find their way home to themselves...

​Shine Brighter is officially available for pre-order

I was on LinkedIn last week a few weeks ago when I came across something alarming.

A woman had shared a vulnerable update about leaving her corporate job to start her own consulting practice. She was scared, excited, and beautifully honest about the uncertainty ahead.

The public comments were mostly supportive, but she'd shared in a follow-up with me that some private messages and comments made were... less encouraging.

Recently I had one of those days that felt like magic.

I woke up naturally, no alarm. Had the most present morning with my boys—actually playing instead of rushing them out the door. Got amazing work done that felt more like flow than force. Even squeezed in an hour-long run that left me feeling alive and grateful.

I was literally vibrating with joy.

And then it happened.

That voice. The one that's been lurking in my family line for generations.

"Well, have you really earned your worth today, Laura? Have you REALLY earned it?"

It came on so viciously, so suddenly. This sneaky program that just wanted to take me down, wanted to tell me I hadn't earned the right to feel this good.

Have you met this voice? The one that shows up right when life feels too good to be true?

This week, as we celebrate independence, I'm thinking about a different kind of freedom—the kind that comes from finally listening to that voice inside that's been trying to get your attention.

You know that feeling.

The one that whispers during your morning commute, tugs at you during another "successful" “quarterly review”, and keeps you awake scrolling your phone at 11 PM.

It's subtle but persistent. A quiet ache beneath the achievements. A restlessness that no promotion can cure.

That feeling isn't a problem to be fixed. It's an indicator.

That person who drives you crazy? Yeah, they're your teacher.

I have to tell you about something that happened to me that was equal parts mortifying and eye-opening.

There's this woman in my professional circle - let's call her Jessica - who used to make me want to crawl under a table every time she spoke at events.

She'd go on and on about her latest wins, drop client names like confetti, and somehow make every single conversation circle back to her achievements. I'd sit there internally rolling my eyes, thinking, "Everything is about her. It's exhausting."