The Art of Showing Up Fully
There was a moment when I hit a wall in my business; it wasn’t an obstacle I could plan my way around. No strategy, content calendar, or perfectly crafted offer could break through the invisible barrier that had me stuck. I felt the weight of something I couldn’t quite name pressing down on me every time I thought about showing up online. It wasn’t fear of hard work—I’d never shied away from that. It was something deeper, more primal, whispering, What if they see you? What if you fail? And beneath that, even quieter but sharper, What if you succeed? I had spent years crafting my business, pouring my heart into helping others find their voice, but here I was, held hostage by a part of me that had learned long ago it was safer to hide.
Visibility wounds—those tender places we carry from childhood where we learned that being seen wasn’t always safe—have a way of creeping into our adult lives, especially into the businesses we build from our souls. They create a ceiling for our growth, keeping us small when we’re meant to expand. These wounds show up in our hesitation to promote our work, resistance to taking bold steps, or fear of being judged for expressing our truth. For me, the answer wasn’t to pivot or avoid the discomfort. I decided to stop running from the wound and to go deeper into it. To sit with it, listen to it, and heal it. That process wasn’t just about my business; it was about reclaiming the part of myself I had hidden away, and in doing so, I unlocked a new potential—not just for my work, but for how I could show up for the women I am here to serve.
For so long, I told myself a story that felt safe. I’m a private person. I prefer to be behind the scenes to focus on the work that matters most. I told myself that the visibility required to grow my business—the curated posts, the endless reels, the carefully filtered version of “authenticity”—wasn’t for me. I craved connections that felt deep, real, and meaningful, not the superficial exchanges I was forcing online. For a while, I convinced myself I could stay in my comfort zone indefinitely, crafting powerful strategies for others while remaining invisible. But deep down, there was a tension I couldn’t ignore—a part of me that knew I was playing small and hiding behind a carefully constructed wall.
When I looked at my chart, there it was: Jupiter in Leo in the 11th house. Jupiter, the planet of growth and expansion, sitting boldly in Leo, the sign of self-expression, in the house of community, networks, and collective vision. It was a cosmic reminder that everything in my chart is here to guide me, to help me grow into the fullest expression of myself. If it’s written in my chart, it’s for me—not to challenge me in ways I can’t handle, but to call me into the parts of myself that I have yet to claim. Seeing that placement, I realized that my work wasn’t just about helping others share their truth but about embracing my own. Staying small behind the scenes might feel comfortable. Still, my chart reminded me that my growth lies in stepping into the light, expanding into the kind of visibility that allows me to connect with others in a bold, real, and transformative way.
When I first started showing up, I convinced myself that people wanted information from me. Factual, clear, and concise. It would be enough if I delivered the knowledge, the answers, and the practical strategies. But I didn’t realize then that I was creating a barrier, not a bridge. By focusing solely on facts, I cut myself off from the deeper connection I deeply value. I told myself that bringing anything other than the “facts” would feel performative, inauthentic, or like I was trying too hard. But the truth was, I wasn’t sharing all of me—I was hiding behind the safety of information, afraid to be seen as a whole person.
As I’ve immersed myself in this work, I’ve come to see how that approach wasn’t true authenticity—it was a fragmented version of myself. I now understand that true connection comes not from showing up as a single part of yourself but as a whole. In my journey, I’ve realized that real depth comes from allowing people to witness your knowledge, experiences, truth, and stories. The parts of me that I once believed had no place in business—the vulnerable, the imperfect, the deeply intuitive—are actually the very parts that create trust and foster connection. Through my astrology chart, I’ve begun to see my potential for growth, not as a demand to become someone else, but as an invitation to integrate the pieces of myself I’ve kept hidden.
Authenticity, I’ve learned, isn’t about following a blueprint for how to show up or trying to fit into a model of what works for someone else. It’s about knowing yourself so deeply that you can confidently allow all parts of yourself to be seen. My chart has become a guide for this process. It shows me the potential of who I can grow into, the pieces of myself waiting to be expressed. Now, I understand that being authentic isn’t just about facts or knowledge; it’s about showing up fully—your wisdom, heart, and truth—so others can connect with the real you. That’s the space where the magic happens, where people don’t just listen to what you’re saying but feel who you are. And that is where true connection and transformation begin.
Sometimes, running a business feels a lot like parenting. One day, you step into the role with all this hope and love for what you’re creating, and the next, you realize you’ve just signed up to be an expert in a dozen things you’ve never even considered before. In parenting, you suddenly become a cook, a nutritional guide, an emotional resilience expert, and a project manager—all rolled into one. In business, it’s no different. You’re expected to master new financial systems, understand marketing strategies, grow an engaged audience, and somehow figure out who your ideal clients are. It’s a constant push to expand into roles and skills that stretch us in ways we didn’t anticipate, but that ultimately serve our growth.
My astrology chart has been a guiding light through this process. It reminds me that the challenges I face and the discomfort I feel before growth are not obstacles—they are part of the expansion I came here for. My chart reveals the potential I planned for myself before I even arrived in this world. It shows me the areas I am meant to grow into, not as punishments or hurdles but as opportunities to embody more of who I am. Knowing this has helped me see the overwhelm not as a sign that I’m failing but as evidence that I’m exactly where I need to be—on the edge of the growth I was always meant to experience.
This perspective has reshaped how I approach the struggles of business and life. Instead of resisting the discomfort or trying to bypass it, I now see it as part of the path. My chart gives me a framework to understand the potential waiting for me and the tools to work through the limiting beliefs that hold me back. It’s a process of seeing the growth, embracing the discomfort, and choosing to move forward with intention and faith. The same is true for the women I work with—together, we uncover their potential, shine a light on the places they’ve hidden their brilliance, and help them step into the fullness of who they are, even when it feels hard. Growth is never easy, but it’s always worth it.
There have been times when I’ve come face-to-face with my biggest wounds—the ones that seem to whisper, Stop now; this is too much. In those moments, it’s easy to feel paralyzed, to question whether moving forward is worth the discomfort. But I’ve learned that momentum isn’t about pushing through or ignoring the pain. It’s about having tools and practices that anchor you, that remind you why you started and help you take the next step, even if it feels small. My astrology chart has been a map back to myself—a way to reconnect with my purpose, see the potential I carry, and realign when fear or doubt threatens to take over. Journaling, spending time in nature, and connecting with others who hold space for my growth have been essential, too. These practices remind me that I’m not alone in the process and that the discomfort is just part of the path to expansion.
What are the tools you turn to when the big wounds resurface? What helps you keep going when the fear feels heavy or the path feels uncertain? Maybe it’s a morning ritual that centers you, a mantra that pulls you back to your truth, or a community that reminds you of your strength. Whatever it is, know that having those tools doesn’t make you weak—it makes you resilient. It’s a way of telling yourself I’m worth showing up for. As you navigate your own growth, I hope you’ll keep finding the practices that sustain you and help you stay connected to your purpose and move forward with grace, even when it’s hard. I’d love to hear what’s worked for you—because together, we can keep growing.