Trust, Ambition, and What’s Next

Because we don't retire, we re-wire out thinking

I had some serious doubts !

It seems I wasn’t the only woman over 60 who had trouble trusting herself.
That should’ve made me feel better — but instead, it hit a nerve.
It made me wonder how many of us have spent a lifetime being capable, competent, dependable — for everyone but ourselves.

Because underneath the shared struggle was this quiet ache: how many of us have stopped trusting our own knowing?
How many of us have confused “being sensible” with being small?
It’s the perfect trap—stay reasonable, stay responsible, stay silent. And then one day you realize you’ve been negotiating against your own soul.

That realization lit a fire under my ambition—not ambition for accolades or applause, but for truth.
The truth that comes when you rebuild trust in yourself, for yourself.
A dear friend once told me, “Your observation of your own life is unique. Most people don’t take time to know themselves.”
At this stage of life, I think that’s the work:
To become a student of you.

Here, we’ll explore the parts of your life still waiting to be lived—the dreams, the passions, the whispers you’ve ignored for decades.
Carl Jung wrote:

“The world is full of people suffering from the effects of their own unlived life… because deep down they know: the life they mock is the life they were meant to live.”

The first time I read that, I felt it in my gut.
Then came the real question: Now what?
That’s the problem with bite-sized wisdom—it lands, then evaporates, leaving us inspired but stuck.
It’s one thing to nod along with Jung.
It’s another thing entirely to apply him to your actual life.

That’s what we’re doing here—closing the gap between wisdom and reality.

If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at someone who seems “too free,” “too bold,” or “too much,” look closer.
That’s the reflection of your unlived life, calling.

The artist you mock? She paints every day while you talk yourself out of starting.
The woman who sold everything and moved to Italy? You tell yourself she’s being reckless—but a tiny voice whispers, God, that looks good.

That ache—that twinge—isn’t judgment. It’s longing.

The Commitment Circle

Before we go any further, I want you to pause.
This next part isn’t just something to think about — it’s something to do.

If you skim past this, if you tell yourself you’ll come back later, you won’t.
That’s not judgment, it’s truth.
Women like us — women who’ve held the world together for decades — have been trained to wait.
Wait until the laundry’s done.
Wait until the noise settles.
Wait until we’ve earned rest.

That waiting is the cage.

So before you move on, make a small promise to yourself.
Say it out loud if you can. Whisper it if you must.
This is your first act of rebellion.

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🌿 The Commitment Phrase

I commit to giving myself ten minutes that belong only to me.

Say to yourself or outloud: “ I simply decided to allow myself time” I simply decided.
Not when the laundry’s done.
Not when the emails are answered.
Now. I commit to letting the dishes wait.
To letting the world spin without me for a moment.
I commit to sitting in the quiet and listening for what’s been trying to reach me.

I no longer wait for perfect conditions to love myself.
This moment — messy, unfinished, ordinary — is my beginning.

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Take a breath.
There — you just reclaimed something.
Now, let’s make use of it.

The Map Back to Yourself:
Start small.
Name the thing you’ve secretly mocked.
Ask yourself why.
Who told you that dream was foolish, or indulgent, or impractical?
Then take one microscopic step toward it.

Write the first sentence.
Buy the watercolor paper.
Google the flight.
The size doesn’t matter—the vibrational signal does.

My Story:
I used to roll my eyes at women who said they “followed the muse.”
I thought it sounded flaky, self-indulgent.
Now here I am, seventy years old, following my own muse across canvas and keyboard because I SIMPLY DECIDED TO
Turns out, that was my unlived life talking back.

Don’t just read Jung—map him.
Turn the quote into a compass.
Do the exercise. Tell me what you discover. And! request your own copy of “How to Build Trust” with yourself. I will gladly send it to you.

Your unlived life isn’t gone.
It’s just waiting for you to stop rolling your eyes and start listening.

Ready to Go Deeper?

If something in today’s piece stirred you — if you felt that tug of recognition, that whisper that said me too — then maybe it’s time to step a little closer.

Paid subscribers are the heart of this circle. You make it possible for me to create, to write daily, to paint, and to hold this space for women who are done waiting for permission.

When you become a paid member, you’ll receive:

✨ Saturday Soul Notes — a weekly voice memo from me (via Voxer) — part pep talk, part truth serum, part soul whisper.
✨ Sunday Night Zoom Circles — live conversations where we gather, laugh, sometimes cry, and map what’s next for our unlived lives.
✨ Daily Voxer access — a more personal line where you can share, ask, or simply be witnessed in your own becoming.
✨ Member-only posts — deeper essays, guided reflections, and behind-the-canvas glimpses of my art and creative process.
✨ First look at new art releases — before they go public.
✨ Private comment threads — a small, vibrant community of women who are all rebuilding trust in themselves, one honest conversation at a time.

This is where we stop collecting inspiration and start living it.

Join as a paid subscriber today and give yourself the gift of belonging to a space that’s about becoming.