Something I never imagined would occupy so much of my time when I decided to become a full-time MBSR, mindfulness, and meditation teacher was the simple, almost technical fact that I am now self-employed. It sounds obvious — of course self-employment comes with responsibilities — but I truly did not anticipate the weight of what that would mean in practice. Suddenly, I am on my own with everything that surrounds living the path I love and feel deeply passionate about. Teaching, guiding, accompanying people in their practice — that part feels natural. But the rest? That’s where the reality of self-employment hit me.
And what is that “everything”?
It is all the pieces that float around the work itself: the marketing, the business decisions, the “selling myself,” the networking, the content creation, the behind-the-scenes planning, and the ongoing, sometimes exhausting work of doing all I can to fill my classes. The truth is: this is not where I feel comfortable. Not even a little. If I could choose, I would spend all my time helping people, sharing insights, holding space, teaching, meditating with them. That’s where my heart lives. That’s what lights me up.
But I quickly realized I can’t do what I love without also doing the parts I did not sign up for enthusiastically. And I certainly can’t stand on a rooftop shouting, “Hey everyone! Trust me — you’ll love this class! You won’t regret learning how to sit with yourself, expand your awareness, and regulate your nervous system!” Even if sometimes I secretly wish it were that easy — one big shout, and the right people magically find their way to me.
I am extremely fortunate that my life circumstances allow me to take my time and not panic. I know with absolute clarity that I could not have quit my full-time job to pursue this path if I didn’t have the stability and support that I have right now. I am profoundly grateful for that — and I remind myself often that not everyone has that safety net.
What I want, more than anything, is to be genuine. To grow, to learn, and to give back. And even if the word “authentic” gets overused and diluted, I still can’t find a better word to describe the compass I want to follow. My work needs to embody a kind of spaciousness, honesty, and groundedness — and so does the way I show up publicly.
And here’s another truth: I’m no longer 20, 30, or even 40. And in today’s world, the younger generations seem fearless about putting themselves out there — vibrant, fast, polished, bold, relentlessly visible. I’m not totally disconnected from that world, but I sometimes feel like I’m hanging on by a thread trying to… what? Keep up? Stay sharp? Be interesting? Be “cool”? And at what cost?
Recently, someone I respect deeply offered me a piece of advice that landed with a thud — the good kind, the kind that rearranges you a little. They said: Stop comparing. Stop assuming there is only one right way because that’s how everyone else is doing it. Create your own lines to color in. Trust your abilities. And always ask: does this path — whether short, long, messy, or crooked — have a heart? Be your own fearlessness.
And so here I am.
Every day — in between preparing classes, reading, learning, and deepening my practice — I’m also learning how to put myself out there. How to let people know I exist. How to find the people who need what I offer. Some days it feels natural. Other days it feels like a Sisyphean climb, rolling the same stone up the same hill.
But I keep reminding myself to pause and ask: How does this feel? Is this truly me?
If not — step aside. If yes — keep walking. Keep showing up. Keep embracing the path that has a heart.
And you — what has been your biggest surprise or challenge on your own path?