my story

My previous life

I must have decided early on that I liked feeling like the one who could "do it all." I just don't remember that part.

I was too busy living in a constant state of busyness, happy to ignore my need for boundaries and routinely avoiding anything connected to my well-being. Things I did focus on included: work, people-pleasing, staying in control, getting back in control, being organized, thinking far ahead, identifying as the reliable one, and emulating the human Energizer bunny. I didn’t consciously plan to live that way; it was simply all I knew

Raised in a society built on competition and accolades, I saw achieving as all there really was "to do.” For most of my life, my relentless case of the “nexties” - that immediate pursuit of the next dopamine hit after an accomplishment - meant I would remain perpetually dissatisfied. It was a cycle I subconsciously carved. Ttrapped within a determination to excel, combined with my subconscious promise that no matter what I achieved, it would never be enough. My inner goalpost was constantly shifting to the next thing. To top it off (and whether I actually cared about a task or not), I’d thoughtlessly give my all. To everything. To everyone. (I feel tired just remembering it today!)

What my parents called my "type A" personality served as a guiding star upon which I built my identity. To me, a job worth doing was worth doing with every fiber of my being. I defined myself mainly by my work ethic and ambition. Somewhere along the line I morphed from high-achieving to overachieving; my sense of self was dependent upon what I did, not who I was.

Beneath the surface, a nearly silent dissatisfaction quietly lurked, a gnawing emptiness that never went away. An external facade of confidence and smiles was what most people knew, while my inner world was a battleground of self-judgment and the endless pursuit of whatever had to be done next. I was a master at concealing my utter exhaustion behind humor, work, and responsibilities. Life, to me, was a perpetual grind, a never-ending series of tasks and goals.

One Pivotal Moment, Then Another

But as fate often has it, life has a way of interrupting even the most meticulously planned narratives. In a singular, heart-wrenching moment, everything changed. One September morning, I took a phone call that shattered my carefully controlled world. Through my sister's sobs, I learned that our lifelong cheerleader, our beautiful mother, had passed away on the other side of the world. A sudden tidal wave of grief shook me to my core.

The tragedy of losing my mother was my awakening, the catalyst that propelled me forward on a journey of self-discovery and transformation - whether I wanted it or not. In the aftermath of losing her, questions barraged my mind: "Was this the life I had chosen? How long had I been on autopilot, striving to meet expectations that never mattered? Whose life was I living? And, what was the point of it all, anyway?"

Within two months of losing my mother, my husband and I decided to separate and I made the call to move back to New York. I hadn't expected these life-altering events to converge, yet here they were—losing my mother, ending my marriage, and switching continents. Name a life change, and I was about to move through it.

What followed were months of turbulent emotions cascading through my life like unpredictable tidal waves. Overlapping and mixed feelings of anger, despair, denial, guilt, confusion, frustration, sadness, resentment, self-judgment, and fleeting moments of tenderness or relief swirled within me, obliterating my schedules, lists, and sense of control.

My once-reliable resilience betrayed me when I needed it most. I found myself bursting into tears out of nowhere on the couch with my open laptop, or staring blankly out a window while eating. The habit to return to working at the end of each day felt pointless. As I started imagining a path forward for myself and my two girls from the table of my home in Korea, I thought it was just my geography that needed changing.

I tried to force myself to "keep calm and carry on" as I always had, gritting my teeth and trying to bear it, applying for teaching jobs into the wee hours of the night. I became a machine, driven not by passion or by excitement, but by fear—fear of not providing for my daughters. Surges of mixed and overwhelming feelings were relentless and unpredictable. I was struggling to keep up with my own lifelong patterns of efficiency and hyper focus on my work. I was struggling with everything.

my awakening

Then came a life-changing moment, an unmistakable sign from the universe (sent in the same evening to my girls, me, and my ex living in another apartment) that left me with a crystal clear realization: I was not meant to teach anymore. Something different was waiting for me.

It wasn’t until the signs hit me like a ton of bricks that I realized I didn’t even want to teach anymore. This unexpected epiphany felt like a weight instantly being lifted from my slumped shoulders. My soul felt lighter. The choice was made and I knew I needed to search my soul for my next path.

I was terrified, but I trusted in the universe. “Leap and the net will appear,” and “Trust the magic of new beginnings,” were two quotations that resonated and became my mantras. Instead of relying only on myself and my work ethic, I knew something bigger was at work. Even if I couldn’t see it, someone (or something) had a plan for me. I handed in my notice without a concrete plan for my career's next steps. This was completely unorthodox for an obsessive planner like me. All I knew for certain was that remaining a burnt out teacher was no longer an option; change was imperative.

embracing & evolving

At first, I tried to deceive myself, pretending I could navigate grief and loss, a move, and a career shift without significant change. I attempted to remain the same person, working nonstop. My body and heart rebelled; emotions roared within me, shouting, "This isn't working anymore, Alyssa!"

Gradually, I accepted the necessity for change. I couldn't take this version of myself with me if I wanted a different outcome. To this point, my need for control often meant I walked the most challenging roads alone. I leaned into the idea of walking this one differently. I surrounded myself with positive and supportive individuals who proved to be unafraid of my raw, vulnerable, and evolving self. I sought all the help I could think up. I found a therapist to help me reflect on my past and I secured a coach to ground me in my present and help me to envision my ideal future. Socializing was a little dicey as a single parent, but the ones who love you the most never protest to evenings on a couch with a cup of tea. Connection became my strength. I finally accepted that I couldn't travel this journey alone.

Returning home to myself demanded internal shifts and external behavioral changes. I couldn't stay in the same circumstances, sticking to old patterns, and expect transformation. Through yoga, heartfelt conversations, extensive reading, and a commitment to learning meditation, I shed layers of conditioning and expectations. I began to find me.

Learning self-compassion proved to be the most formidable challenge, but with time and support from my coach, my therapist, and friends, I began to sense it. I practiced addressing myself with the gentleness I would offer a dear friend. Exploring self-care for once, I reformulating negative self-talk into words of encouragement, just as I would for a friend navigating significant life changes.

Amid the uncertainty and discomfort of transformation, I made a firm choice: I chose to find excitement in the unknown. I recognized the importance of staying open and expansive, even on an uncertain path. A significant shift occurred when I released the need to control every outcome. I adopted a new favorite mantra: "Focus on the next step, not the whole staircase." This shift brought me freedom I had never felt before.

Over time, gratitude began to fill my heart. With practice, I began to identify the opportunity within every challenge. Goosebumps returned, signaling to me that I was on the right path. Synchronicities that seemed impossible became my norm. I rediscovered the beauty of being fully present, living with open eyes and an open heart, and feeling receptive to a new way of being.

Almost miraculously, it all made sense—part of what had lifted me from my ashes would be what would become my path. A new career as a life coach was exactly what I wanted. The puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place, and I marveled at the serendipity of it all. I already had a degree in Psychology and coaching training under my belt. I'd spent years in progressive education coaching learners to set goals, try out paths of their design, and marvel at their power to achieve, create, and be. I had mentored teachers and led teams, helping incredible colleagues to realize and nurture their badass strengths. I fully embraced coaching, practicing it regularly, affirming my skills, and kindling a newfound passion within me. It felt as though I had been destined for this purpose, eager to support others on their own unique and transformative journeys to peace.

the other side

I have awakened to a life filled with limitless possibilities and an immense trust in myself and the universe. The loss of my mother and the separation from my husband in the same year were seismic shifts that jolted me from a half-awake existence. These challenges, as heart-wrenching as they were, served as catalysts for my transformation.

I greet each morning with deep gratitude. I live in a beautiful space that radiates energy and inspiration. Every time I glance outside my window in our home on a mountain in upstate New York, I’m reminded that I've started a new and more fulfilling chapter, near many old and dear friends, new ones, and not so far from cherished family members who join me in savoring the beauty of life.

I have become the role model for my models that I hadn't been before. Instead of showing them that life is meant for endless work and striving, I model protecting and managing our energy, courage, self-love, the pursuit of JOY and fun, and the importance of listening to one's (totally unique!) inner voice.

I revel in the joy of living unapologetically in a home, a body, and a mind that feel like home. I have newfound respect for the feelings that guide me. I no longer stifle my occasional anxious or unsatisfied emotions; I observe and respond to them. And they last nowhere near as long as they used to. In doing so, I remain awake to the richness of life.

Once completely averse to any and all change, I now embrace feelings of discomfort as signals of growth. Self-confidence and resourcefulness learned through my coaching have taken root within me, too. No matter what challenges lie ahead, I know I can handle them. I've got this.

I delight in waking up each day to a schedule of my own design, to a life of balance and alignment with my values. I work out, enjoy my coffee, write, get creative with content, meditate, connect with fellow coaches, and most importantly, help other women reclaim the power of their inner knowing and renew their feelings of peace and purpose.

The obstacles and transitions in my life have imperfectly sculpted me into a coach and champion for transformation.

In the end, I have learned that life's challenges can be the biggest catalysts for our most profound growth. They shape us, help us learn our own deep inner strength, and reveal the beauty of the human spirit's resilience and ability to pivot. Through pain and transformation, I have discovered the vibrant colors of my life, and I now embrace them with my arms, eyes, and my heart wide open. I'd love to help you do the same.