Maybe you’ve felt it. Standing at the sink, staring out the window, the hum of daily life all around you—and beneath it, that tug. That low-grade restlessness that says, there’s more for me than this.

You don’t announce it out loud. You might not even let yourself dwell on it. But it shows up in flashes: when a song on the radio makes your chest ache, when you wake at 3 a.m. staring at the ceiling, when you see someone else make a bold move and wonder, why not me?

That’s the whisper. And no matter how much you try to tamp it down, it doesn’t go away.

Most of us have been conditioned to ignore it. We’ve been trained to keep moving, to prove ourselves, to stay grateful for what we have and not rock the boat. We tell ourselves we’re fine. We tell ourselves it’s too late. We fill our calendars, keep the lists going, and wait for “someday”—when the kids are launched, when the work slows down, when the house is in order. Then, maybe, we’ll live differently.

But another year slips by, and the whisper is still there.

Here’s what I want you to know: you’ve never been more prepared than you are right now. Every twist, every heartbreak, every hard-won lesson has seasoned you. This isn’t about second chances—this is prime time. Think about it: you’ve survived storms you once thought would take you under. You’ve learned the difference between what looks good from the outside and what actually nourishes your soul. You’ve carried others, and now you finally know the weight and worth of carrying yourself.

That restlessness you feel isn’t a problem to fix; it’s a signal. It’s your body, your heart, your life itself saying: now. And here’s the kicker: you don’t even know yet what you can do. You’ve barely scratched the surface of your own brilliance.

What we need in that moment isn’t another five-year plan or a productivity hack. We need space. A safe container. Somewhere we can let the old stories unravel and begin listening again to what feels true.

That’s why I created Soul Care Masterclass. It’s five weeks that feel less like a class and more like a sacred little rebellion—a circle where women come alive again. Together, we clear space for what’s next, refill the creative well, and remember what it feels like to be enchanted with our own lives. Not someday. Now.

You don’t have to show up with a polished vision. You don’t have to know exactly what’s next. You just have to trust what you feel—that tug, that whisper, that quiet insistence that there’s more for you.

The story you tell yourself about this season of life becomes the compass you travel by. Call it decline, and you’ll shrink. Call it possibility, and whole new worlds open. You’ve never been more prepared to choose which story becomes true.