I lost my memory.

Not the kind that sends you to a doctor. The kind that happens slowly, quietly, under the weight of a life you were never meant to carry alone.

I lost the memory of who God created me to be.

And I have been on a journey of remembering for seven years.

But first let me tell you about the other kind of memory loss. The one that frightened me before I understood what was happening.

Several years ago, my brother, my nephew, and my now ex-husband were in a conversation. They were talking about the years my ex-husband had coached on the staff of my nephew’s college football team. We had lived in the Charlotte area at the time and my nephew attended college in Columbia, South Carolina. They were discussing details of the season. Interactions with the head coach. Some of the players. The games.

I was not paying close attention until something grabbed me.

The realization that I had no recollection of any of it.

I asked them when he had coached at the college. They looked at me with confusion. Then with concern. When they realized I was serious, they were flabbergasted.

That shook me. I truly did not remember almost two football seasons of him leaving home to drive an hour and a half to Columbia during the week while we had young children. I had lost the memory of going to the games. Of being there. Of any of it.

I became frightened. I did not understand what could be going on with my mind.

I gave it time. And then a small memory surfaced. A brief image of being at the University of South Carolina football stadium. I could see us parking within the internal part of the stadium and I knew that would only have happened if he was on staff. We had both attended Clemson University. South Carolina was our rival. I had been to that stadium before as a student and I never had access to that parking area back then.

That small memory gave me hope. But what had happened to the rest of it? Little pieces have come back over time but not all of it. And I have since learned what stress does to the mind. What it does to the body. What it does to a life.

The stress of living up to external expectations. The pain of traumatic experiences. The weight of performing a life that does not belong to you. All of it can lead to a different kind of memory loss. Not the loss of events. The loss of yourself. No longer recalling who you really are based on who God created you to be.

That truth became clear after my divorce from a 28 year marriage. Once I found the courage to leave and got to the other side, I realized I had been living far beneath my inheritance as a child of God. It was as though I had lost my mind. My REAL mind.

And so the remembering began.

I remembered that I do not need to place others before myself to be worthy of love. That was never true. I had just believed it for so long it felt like fact.

I remembered that I am here for purpose. That God allowed every painful experience in my life to equip me for exactly this. For coaching women through the process of reclaiming the power to create the life they were designed to live.

I remembered that fear is not my inheritance. I am more than a conqueror. I had simply forgotten.

I remembered that what I was living through was not the end of my story. That if I kept going, if I never stopped, if I never gave up, and if I never allowed another person to control or destroy me, I would make it to the other side.

I remembered that the truth of who I am, the power that resides in me, and the purpose I was created for would will me forward even when I could not will myself.

I remembered me.

My REAL mind knows I do not need to earn my place at the table. It knows I am more than a conqueror and need not fear. It recognizes the traps that would keep me trying to control what is beyond my control. My REAL mind knows the difference between who I was conditioned to be and who God actually created me to be. And it will not let me settle for less than the truth of that ever again.

And I made it to the other side.

I know me now. I love me. And I live for me first. Not selfishly. Purposefully. Because when I live for me first I get to love others more purely, serve more boldly, and impact the world more positively.

For that I am grateful beyond what words can hold.

A Gift for You

Try this before you close this letter.

Take yourself somewhere quiet. Close your eyes.

Breathe in for four counts. Out for four counts. Do this three times and let your body settle.

Then ask yourself this question:

What is true about my life that I have forgotten?

Journal what comes up. No agenda. No narrative attached. Just what surfaces when you get still enough to hear it.

Then take one small action to honor what you remember about yourself.

She is still in there. And she remembers more than you think.

On May 2, 2026, I will complete my 60th year on earth.

Is that old?

I used to think so when I was a kid. Forty seemed old until I got there. Then fifty. And now here I am at sixty and I do not feel old. But that raises a question I cannot shake.

Do I just not feel old because I am here and the goal post keeps moving? Am I comforting myself? Not facing reality? Or is the whole idea of old something worth questioning?

What does old mean anyway? Nothing left to offer? Crawl up in the house and wait for the end? When people say old I wonder if we really consider what we mean by it.

And here is the one that really got me. When I say I do not feel old, I realize I do not even know what old would feel like. So how would I know if I felt like it or not?

Lots of questions. Do you have the answers?

I asked Google. And this is what the AI overview told me:

“Being old generally means having lived for a long time, typically reaching an advanced stage of life. It involves physical changes such as reduced energy, gray hair, or wrinkles and often brings wisdom, extensive experience, and a shift in perspective.”

Let me take that apart.

Living for a long time. What constitutes a long time? Compared to what?

An advanced stage of life. When exactly do you cross over? Is there a sign? A ceremony? Does someone hand you a card?

Reduced energy. Is this specific to age? Because a lot of people I know lack energy and it has nothing to do with how many years they have lived. It has everything to do with what they are eating.

Gray hair. Okay. They got me on that one. But I knew someone in junior high school with gray hair so I am not sure that counts as evidence.

Wrinkles. Getting some of those too. But plenty of people who spent their twenties in the sun have wrinkles I do not have yet. And I am Black. We do not crack. Just sayin’.

Wisdom. More wise through the years for sure. But when do you cross over to the old level of wisdom? And who decides?

Extensive experience and a shift in perspective. Now that is subjective and happens at many different stages of life. I know twenty five year olds who have shifted their perspective more times than some sixty year olds I know.

So why am I asking all of these questions?

Because the words we speak and the narratives we accept matter more than we realize.

I refuse to characterize myself as old. Not because I am in denial. Because to me that word speaks to diminishing. Ending. Running out of capacity. And I feel just the opposite.

I feel energized. I have a zest for life that surprises even me sometimes. I am on the upswing. I know more of who I am and what I want than I have ever known. And I am excited about the next forty years of experiences, growth, impact, and everything these sixty years of living have equipped me to produce.

Sixty is not the beginning of the end.

For me it is the fullest beginning yet.

Perspective matters. What you believe is what you will live into. So choose your words carefully. Question the narratives you have inherited. Make sure they are true for you and not just something you absorbed along the way.

Because the life waiting for you on the other side of that question is worth asking.

This morning I lay in bed and did a body scan. It is part of my morning routine. A quiet check-in with whatever messages my body is holding before the day begins.

What came to me was simple. My body is my home.

And no matter where I go, I am always at home.

Why is this important? I am traveling and missing home. My routine. All the things. This message from my body has me reflecting on the places I have called home.

I have lived in many houses and called them home.

There was a house on the lake when my children were young. It’s where we lived when they started Montessori school and my youngest took her first steps. Where friends and family came and spread out comfortably because there was room for everyone. It was full of life and noise and love. It was home.

Then there was the home we moved into for our oldest daughter to attend a more diverse high school. A good decision. The right decision. But that home became dark for me. The pain I experienced in my marriage lived in those walls. My mother died while in that home. And when the marriage ended, I left that house because it was no longer home.

Starting over, I built a new home reflective of me. I made every decision. And before the walls went up, I walked through the frame of that house and prayed over every room. I placed the four Hebrew letters of God’s name on each door post and window frame. This home would be one of peace, love, and rejuvenation. For me and for my girls.

I did not fully realize then what that home would become. Each of my daughters returned at different points and stayed long enough that it became more home than I had anticipated. The rooms they decorated. The spaces they claimed. The joy I felt in the mornings when my granddaughter started coming in before school to say goodbye. That house became exactly what I prayed it would be.

So when I am away from it, I feel it.

I miss my bedroom decorated in pink, gold, and white. The comfort of my bed and everything I need right there on my nightstand. My shower with the right water pressure and the hot water I have come to count on. The Lovesac in my office where I curl up for morning prayer and journaling. The photos on my walls of powerful Black women who remind me every day what is possible. The back patio where I sit and read and listen to the birds and remember that God is always with me. The rose bushes in the garden below.

When I am gone, I miss home.

This week I am away helping my daughter settle into a new city. And there have been moments of homesickness I did not expect. I miss my routine. My greenway for morning walks. Praying for my granddaughter before school.

But this morning something shifted.

I made a decision not to miss what I had left behind but to be present with where I am. And in that stillness my body reminded me of something I needed to hear.

You are always home.

I was recently certified as a Somatic Trauma-Informed Coach. Somatics is the practice of listening to the body as a source of wisdom and data. The body is always gathering information. It holds what the mind sometimes cannot access. When you learn to listen, it speaks with quiet authority and brings a peace that is difficult to find any other way.

This certification has deepened my own practice of coming home to myself. And this morning’s body scan is a direct fruit of that work.

Because here is what I know to be true. As human beings we are spirits living in bodies. This body is our temple. It is our first and most permanent home on this side. As I become fully settled in this home, I know I will always be exactly where I belong.

What do you think? Are you settled in your internal home?

I want to invite you into something before you move on with your day.

Take a few minutes. Find a quiet place. Breathe in for four counts and out for six. And as you continue breathing, scan slowly from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Notice what is there. Name it. And then gently release your grip on whatever you find.

Come back and share what that experience was like for you. I would love to sit with you in it.

Be present at home for it is a beautiful place to be.

I am sitting on the 16th floor of my daughter’s apartment building in Chicago, looking out over the city, writing this letter to you. I did not pay for this view. I did not earn it. It came the way so much of my life has come. As a gift I almost did not notice.

From up here I think about the people walking their dogs down the street to a park so they can run and relieve themselves. In the rain, against the wind, yet doing what must be done. In my world, I open the back door and out they go.

People here walk to the grocery store, bags in hand, shopping for a day or two and carrying the weight of their groceries back home. I drive to the store, pull into my garage, and unload. And I have complained about that. The unloading. The unpacking. The putting away. The cooking.

Sitting here on the 16th floor, overlooking a city full of people living differently than I do, I am appreciative of my life back home and of the new perspectives travel affords me.

This is abundance. And it has been mine all along.

I grew up with two loving parents, a home, cars, food, a room of my own, school, friends, band, activities, church, family, and travel. By any honest measure, I had a full and abundant life.

And there was imperfection. Alcoholism. Extended family drama. Girl drama. Boy drama. The inevitable dings of a real human childhood.

For years I have been tethered to the imperfections. They became the defining story. They took up so much space that the abundance got crowded out. People showing up at exactly the right time. Doors opening when I needed them to. Opportunities appearing in the right season. Wisdom dropping in so I could make the right choice. Synchronicities I cannot explain making what seemed impossible look like a small inconvenience.

All of that was true. And yet the imperfections took center stage.

Here is what I have come to understand about women like us.

Being a high achiever means you are wired to see the next step. The higher level. The gap between where you are and where you could be. That is a powerful gift. It has carried you far. But when it dominates, it becomes a thief. You don’t stop to celebrate what is already here. You don’t focus on what God has already done. And you miss out on so many opportunities for joy, for rest, for fun, for life.

My coach recently wrote about something that caused me to pause. She observed that the church tends to focus on the struggle. The overcoming. The salvation from life’s problems. And she asked where could those already living in abundance find guidance on how to actually live there?

That question stopped me in my tracks. And I had to take an honest look at my own life. Is my life abundant?

Two things can be true at the same time. You can be navigating a real challenge while still appreciating and celebrating the blessings that are evident in your life. Both are real. Both are life. The struggle does not cancel the abundance. And the abundance does not erase the struggle.

Let’s acknowledge that you are a strong, accomplished, powerful woman who has experienced great success while still managing life’s challenging moments. Because you frequently operate on autopilot, getting all the things done, I am inviting you to take inventory of the abundance in your life, despite any struggles..

It is in the gratefulness, the appreciation, the recognition of the goodness that is already here that your capacity increases. The capacity to problem solve. To be strategic. To make decisive moves.

There are dreams, goals, and purpose beyond what you have experienced, yet. And sometimes the path to them runs straight through gratitude for what is already in your hands.

I am doing that from the 16th floor of a building I did not pay for, in a city I enjoy, writing a letter to women I believe in. Being grateful for this experience.

This is abundance. And I celebrate seeing it as such.

Now I want to leave with some questions to ponder.

What if you stopped? Laid all concerns aside for just a moment. Remembered how amazing you are and how blessed your life has already been. And let that be enough for today.

What abundance might you notice? Not perfection. Not problem free. Abundance.

Share what you notice. Because the more we put the energy of thanksgiving into the world, the more beauty we all get to experience.

When do you get to forgive yourself? When are you let off the hook for prior imperfections? When do you get to stop apologizing?

These are the thoughts I have had the past couple of days. I am an imperfect soul. No matter how much I have sought perfection, it continues to evade me.

Of course it does. Perfection is an unrealistic goal. A goal post that keeps moving. No clear destination. No GPS coordinates. No longitude and latitude to point the way. Humans are imperfect by design. And still I have chased the impossible.

This chasing has created feelings of failure. Self-condemnation. Guilt. Ruminating over the past. Bound to a standard I inherited, absorbed, or manufactured.

When I first started my coaching practice, I prayed and asked God for a word to describe, define, and distinguish my work.

UNBOUNDED.

That is what I heard. Freedom. No limits. No restrictions. No boundaries.

I have been on a journey of freedom from perfection ever since. Because perfection is its own kind of boundary. It limits you because it is not real. When you chase a phantom idea, you are not free. The illusion owns you. And the life you are called to live sits and waits for you to break free.

When I think back to being a mother, the pursuit of perfection had me bound. There was no manual, no college degree, and no practice test. It felt like I was out there on my own. Trial and error. Watching others from the outside and their outside usually appeared better than my inside. There were two older women whose wisdom I watched and benefited from. But my life, my kids, and my home required adaptation. All children are different and need a unique touch.

So I adapted. Tried new techniques. Retried old ones. And prayed a lot. I messed up sometimes by being impatient. By holding standards that were hard to live up to. By sometimes letting the issues in my marriage spill over into my parenting. My children will probably tell you I favored one over the other. I did my best to give each what I believed they needed. They don’t always see it that way. What I am confident of is that I loved them well and gave it everything I had.

And it did work out. My adult girls are amazing young women. I am proud of who they are and who they are becoming.

And they have scars. Some of them have my fingerprints on them. That is hard to sit with. There are moments I replay and wish I had handled differently. Words I wish I had chosen more carefully. Times I was so consumed by my own pain that I could not see theirs clearly enough. I own that.

What I have had to learn is that owning it does not mean drowning in it. I can acknowledge the harm without allowing my guilt to derail my healing. Their healing belongs to them now. Not because I am releasing responsibility. Because for them to live the life they are called to, they must lead their own journey forward. The same way I took my power back and now live a life I am proud of.

We all carry something from the homes we grew up in. No matter how much love was present. No matter how hard a parent tried. The pains and disappointments linger. That is not an indictment. That is just human.

The question is not whether the scars exist. The question is what we do with them now.

I am not who I was. Not because I became perfect. Because I became free.

Free from the standard I could never meet. Free from the guilt that kept me anchored to moments I cannot change. Free to love my girls well today without being imprisoned by the yesterday I cannot redo. Free to step fully into the life and purpose I almost missed.

That is what Unbounded means to me. And it is available to you.

If you are ready to stop apologizing for being human and start living like the woman you were called to be, I have a space for you. A Private Conversation. Just you, being REAL and telling the truth to someone who has lived it and knows exactly what waits on the other side of self-forgiveness.

Use this link: Private Conversation

And come as you are.

Here with You, Trini

It saddens me to experience cruelty. And it saddens me even more to witness it happening to others.

When people have been mean to me, the pain hits deep. Something inside me crumbles. For a long time that felt like weakness. Like I was allowing others to have power over me. So I judged them. Demanded change. Waited for it. Especially from the ones who proclaimed to love me.

But that was giving my power away. And the only way forward was to be accountable for where I was and how I got there.

Because I did not understand the value of my empathetic soul and compassionate heart, I did not create buffers to protect myself from the cruelty of others. I had left myself exposed. That was and still is my responsibility.

I cared. I loved. I gave. Without clear standards. I operated under the assumption that everybody was like me. That all humans loved openly, were decent, and had goodness in their hearts.

When I accepted that I had been living under a false assumption, I became disoriented. Even though I had seen the signs and felt the pain, I kept hope alive that eventually love would bubble up and wash all the ugly away.

Living in a lie is detrimental to every part of your being. But when you wake up to the truth, then what? What you were accustomed to and tolerating now has to change. How do you recalibrate? What happens when you upset the status quo?

It is like walking through a forest in the fog with no compass. You know there must be a way out but where? And where are you even going? No destination. No GPS. On foot. Tired, worn, and confused. Feeling alone while the earth shakes beneath you. You have made the decision to stop playing the role everyone expects. But the path ahead is unclear.

I get it. I have been there.

The pivotal moment for me came at my mother’s bedside as she was transitioning from this life. My heart was racing for no apparent reason and my own mortality was staring me in the face. I asked myself one question.

If I die, will I be satisfied with the life I have lived?

The answer was a resounding no.

So I had a choice. Stay the course or pivot. I chose to pivot. And it was the best decision of my life.

It has taken a long time to heal from all the dings, bangs, hits, and punches of cruelty. For seven years I have been doing the work of healing, growing, and finding my way back to True Me. I am not going to sugar coat it for you. It takes commitment, time, and support to reclaim the life you are meant to live. And it is worth every single step.

So what does this mean for you?

The destination your soul is already pointing to is True You. And the way back is not a program or a plan. It is a realignment of four things you already have inside you.

Your Cognitive Intelligence. Does this actually make sense to me? Not to them. To me. This is logic grounded in your own clarity, not someone else’s reasoning for why you should stay, go, accept, or settle.

Your Emotional Intelligence. Not being dragged by your feelings or shutting them down entirely. Using them. Your emotions are data. They are telling you something if you are willing to listen.

Your Intuitive Intelligence. The truth you already know before anyone says a word. What you sense in a room. What your soul recognizes before your mind catches up. That quiet knowing has never lied to you.

Your Body Intelligence. Your nervous system is always sending messages. The question is whether you are regulated enough to receive them. Your body knew before you did. It always does.

When all four are speaking the same language you will know it. That is coherence. That is alignment. And that is when life begins to make sense again. That is when the desires of your heart stop feeling like a distant dream and start feeling like your actual life.

That is True You. And she is waiting.

Last week I shared with you why I tell the truth. I told you about the moment I heard God speak to me about truth during my mother’s illness. But that was not the beginning of my relationship with truth.

My mother instilled in me what was foundational for her mother before her: “If you’ll lie, you’ll steal.”

Being a literal person since childhood, I took that to heart. So even if my mother asked me to tell someone on the phone that she wasn’t home, it was not happening. What I could do was say she’s not available right now. Can I take a message? Something in that direction was the compromise I could make. But I was not going to lie.

Telling the truth became one of my core values. Now as a human being and as a developing child, I’m not saying I never told a lie. I’m not saying I never misled someone. What I am saying is that truth has always been foundational. My ability to trust another person’s word has been vital in every relationship I’ve had. Once I lose trust in your honesty, our relationship is fractured. It may never be repaired to what once existed.

To be clear, telling the truth and sharing the truth are different in the context of my work. What once focused on “not” lying now means forward action. Truth has moved from a value to a calling. It is about standing in the power of your own best interest. It is about setting yourself free from the story you were never meant to carry alone. It is about being open and vulnerable and refusing to let fear keep you in bondage. It is about helping someone who is walking the path you have already traveled. It is about being human. It is about responsibility. It is about giving back. It is about being a light in a dark world. Your truth matters. What you have experienced is a lesson someone else needs to learn. Your willingness to tell it can significantly change another person’s life.

That is my calling.

Now let me tell you one of the truths I was most afraid to tell.

For a long time I was afraid to tell people that I had experienced infidelity. Several times in my marriage. Because I felt embarrassed. Me. A strong Black woman. Intelligent, highly capable, gifted, beautiful inside and out. And I accepted infidelity in my marriage.

I didn’t lie down and take it quietly. I didn’t shrink and decide I wasn’t worthy. I valued my family. I had seen infidelity in my community growing up. I knew it was wrong. But it wasn’t a clear standard I had set for myself. It wasn’t a dealbreaker, apparently. It wasn’t something I had decided was intolerable. And he wasn’t the first person who had cheated on me in a relationship. Because I had been desensitized to it early, I didn’t know how to battle it. How to walk away.

Somewhere in my life, I forgot my value. I missed the message that I deserved better or that better was possible. And deep within me, fear ruled. Fear of abandonment. Fear of rejection. Fear of not being the one chosen.

And I didn’t want people to know any of it. Because “I should have known better. I should have done better. I should have chosen better.”

But I didn’t. I know that I did the best I could with who I was and what I had available to me at the time. But a day came when things got better. I remembered me. I got to see me. Got to appreciate me. And I began telling myself the truth. Until you can own your truth, you will be in bondage to it.

So one day I felt this strong urge to create a post on Facebook. Not what I wanted to do. Sharing my story publicly carried a lot of weight and fear. But I did it. Not every detail but I did tell the truth. And my body trembled. I was afraid of the judgment. The retaliation. The repercussions of revealing someone else’s behavior in my story. But I recognized that it was my story. I owned it. I was telling my story, not someone else’s. And I recognized that I was not responsible for protecting someone else from the consequences of their own choices. They chose what they chose. And it is not my life’s mission, responsibility, or obligation to shield them from it with my silence.

What I did not expect was what came after I posted it.

Relief. Freedom. After the first 15 minutes of my nervous system screaming “what are you doing?” and me shaking, trembling, and crying, the clouds parted. The sun shined through. The wind blew away the debris and life began again. A new version of me, because I had told my truth.

Now what about yours?

What is the story you are withholding? What experience are you too embarrassed to revisit? What dream are you keeping quiet because if you speak it out loud you will be held accountable for it?

What relationship are you in where you are not telling the truth about how you feel, what you think, or what you need?

What is actually happening in your career? Are you doing what you want to do? Are you fulfilled?

What is holding you back from telling the truth? And what is the worst that could actually happen if you did? Drop me a note if you’re ready to share.

Hi there,

Why do you think I share my story with you in these Letters? Why expose intimate details of my life?

Because in 2017, when it was clear that my mother’s life was coming to an end, I heard God say that it is time to tell the truth. I have learned to trust my recognition of divine guidance when it speaks. So I listened.

This was about a year before she passed in 2018, and I was considering what I would say at her funeral. She had directed my brother and me to deliver her eulogy. Some may find the pre-planning morbid or premature, but when your family owned a funeral home for most of your life, death becomes real, manageable, and part business. You learn how to separate your grief from the work at hand. Mom even sat us down to create the menu she wanted at the repast. There was joy on her face as she imagined the meal, so we had to remind her that she would not be there to eat that day, LOL. Mom loved her candied yams, greens, and red rice.

Back to the truth.

In my limited understanding of the message I had received, time to tell the truth felt like a singular event — mom’s funeral. So I focused there. And on the day of her memorial service, I told the truth. I told the truth about how, in so many ways, she was a loving and phenomenal woman. I thanked those who had supported us through her illness. I even celebrated my then-husband for being an amazing son-in-law to her. And then I told the truth no one talks about at funerals: how hard it is to care for your ailing parent. How much support is needed during that time. I encouraged the audience to check in on caregivers, because there are real challenges.

I did not go into all the details but it was difficult watching her life being depleted day after day until she became a shell of who she once was. Seeing the pain in her face as her dignity was stripped because her body betrayed her. No one prepares you to become the parent of your parent. It is a paradigm shift that shakes the foundation of everything you thought you knew. I shared respectfully, but I did tell the truth.

Why does this matter? Because people need to know it is okay to say “this is hard.” The fact that life can be challenging, demanding, and depleting at times does not negate your love, your goodness, or your strength. Maybe by telling my story, someone in that church stopped feeling guilty about the resentment they were carrying. The overwhelm that made them angry. The loneliness of being isolated as a caregiver. That day was the beginning of my call to Tell the Truth.

After ending my marriage of 28 years, remembering who I truly am, and being guided into the work of women’s self-leadership, telling the truth has continued to be the theme of what I am called to be and do in the world. This is so you can see the power, the freedom, and the impact of it. Hiding behind the mask, isolating and suffering alone will not benefit you or the calling on your life.

I will keep sharing my truth with you. So that one day you will accept my invitation to tell yours. And when you do, you will experience the freedom, the healing, and the growth I have come to know as home.

OK I know we are not “supposed” to be jealous. But I was a little bit.

A couple days ago, I went to the funeral of my granddaughter’s great-grandmother. For a long time, I have admired how my daughter co-parents with her daughter’s father. Although the relationship ended, they put the needs of my granddaughter ahead of what did not work for them. He is now engaged to a wonderful young lady who we love. Everyone gets along nicely, interacts positively, and loves my granddaughter purely.

I watched through the process of the funeral how they all interacted with each other. Laughing. Smiling. Supporting. Sharing space together. We stood together at the burial, and as we were leaving, a beautiful moment occurred. My daughter, granddaughter, her father and his future wife took a picture together. Then his mother got in the picture and invited me to join. That warmed my heart because I love peace and unity.

It brings me joy that my granddaughter does not have to experience the animosity a lot of children experience when their parents are not together.

So, why was I jealous?

When I decided to divorce after 28 years, the decision was based on the unhealthiness of the relationship between me and my then husband. What I did not desire was the end of our parenting relationship.

In my dreamy state, I envisioned us walking away from the marriage owning the responsibility for our parts in the dissolution. Our families remaining supportive and loving to both of us. Our children having equal access to their parents and joint moments of celebrating the important milestones in their lives; where the unity of our love for them would cancel out all animosity.

What I did not envision was new people entering the equation imposing their views of divorce and having the power to create animosity and division. I did not envision my character being put into question. I knew those things were possible, but they did not appear on my vision board. I was hopeful and experienced disappointment when my desires did not become reality.

In my humanity, it makes sense that a tiny bit of jealousy would arise, but what I felt most was joy and a renewed sense of hope for humanity. While I do wish my situation turned out differently, I celebrate those that do it well.

I do wish that was my experience. I wish I had been able to do what my daughter has done. I admire her. She rises above.

It’s a beautiful day when your daughter inspires you and gives you hope for humanity even when you do not get what you want. You can be jealous. Acknowledge it. But be intentional on how you process it and what you do with those emotions.

No emotion is bad. Emotions are data. There to tell you something. What my jealousy has taught me in this instance is that it is time for me to accept what is. My situation did not materialize in the way I had hoped, but I get to see the next generation of my legacy be better and do better than we did.

That is success!

With Power and Purpose,

Trini

Hi there!

Pictures can be deceiving. Accessories can make you look like you have it all together. But I know that is never the measure of success.

Surviving a 28-year toxic marriage = Success

I did not just survive it. I brought myself out and into purpose.

That marriage was not meant to build me. It was meant to minimize my power. Keep me distracted through suffering. And for a long time, it worked. I gave it years, tears, and pieces of myself I am still reclaiming. But I never stopped. And I never quit.

That is not nothing. That is everything. Because, when you are in the trenches, survival is the success.

Maybe you are in the trenches right now. Keep going. Do not stop.

I have never failed at anything in my life.

There have been trials. Pain. Confusion. Seasons where I lost hope and thought God had turned a deaf ear to me. I have people-pleased my way into exhaustion. I have abandoned myself trying to hold everyone else together. I have wallowed in self-pity thinking it was justified. And still, I kept going. Still, I learned. Still, I grew.

What could have killed me made me more resilient. I do not say that lightly. I say it because I lived it. There were moments where leaving this life behind was more attractive than divorce. In my mind, divorce equaled failure and that belief made me stay far too long.

Failure would have been to continue denying myself a life of freedom, love and peace; never fulfilling my purpose. That’s failure.

I want you to sit with that for a second, because owning that truth can change everything.

Yes, my marriage ended. I never earned a million dollars. I have not collected trophies nor climbed to the top of the corporate ladder. My gifts have not been cheered by thousands.

But, I raised amazing children. I cared for my mother through her last breath. I built homes and profitable businesses. I have been light in rooms that needed it. Spoken wisdom into the lives of many women.

I have loved people well, even when I was broken. Even when I was running on empty. Even when I did not know who I was anymore.

Survival had my attention for a long time. But through the fire, I remembered who I am. I see the truth that has been there all along.

There is a truth that you have forgotten. You are accepting the unacceptable because you do not know who you really are. The unfulfilling career. The people in your life that drain you. Signs that you have self-abandoned. Now it is time to return to True You. The version of you that existed before the world told you who to be.

If there was no opposition, what would you be doing with your time? What dreams would you be focusing on? Who would you keep close and who would you release?

There are many definitions of success. What is yours? Not the one inherited from your parents. Not the version you have been performing for years hoping something would fill the void you feel inside.

What is the success formula that would bring you joy as you made it reality?

I do not know your answer. But I know you do. And I know that somewhere underneath all the pushing through, True You is still there. Waiting. Not lost. Just covered. That is where we begin the work.

Does what you have read spark something within you? I would love to talk.

I invite you to a Private Chat You know something needs to change. You’re not sure where to start. This is a one-on-one conversation where you get to talk honestly and be heard. A real conversation to help you get clear on what you need and be advised on the best steps forward. Ready to be free, then the Private Chat is where we start. I’m Ready to Chat

Be strong. Be perfect. Hold it all together.

That is what the high-achieving, Alpha Woman is conditioned to believe. And she lives up to the call with excellence.

Skilled at presenting all buttoned up, responsible and never showing weakness. She cries in the shower, in the closet or in the car. But never in front of others.

But one day, the armor gets too heavy to carry. The role is no longer comfortable to play. She recognizes that something needs to change, but what and how?

Where does she go to be supported and not judged? Who will understand her experiences and has the wisdom to guide her forward?

I support Her. I understand Her. I have wisdom for Her.

I am Her.

I have lived this and come out on the other side. Thriving in many areas and still growing in others. My life has been filled with responsibilities, disappointments, wrong moves and much success; but one day I woke up and said “I’m dropping the unnecessary weight.”

And so I did.

The main weight, a 28-year toxic marriage. It took courage to walk away, to disappoint and impact the people I loved. The weight of everyone’s feelings was one of the heaviest things I had to put down. I had to recognize that each person has their own experience, their own emotions, their own response to change; and it was not my responsibility to make my healing comfortable for everyone else. I had empathy. And I loved myself enough to let them grow through the process and find their own way to acceptance.

I found my way out, up and forward into a life that is mine. The way I want it. The way God designed for me to create it. Free, fun and showing others the way.

Does what you have read spark something within you? Here is the good news: I now curate spaces for you to be heard, seen and supported so that you remember the truth of who you are. Because truth, once remembered, changes everything. Weights get dropped, dreams get fulfilled, and life becomes a full expression of True You.

Ready for that freedom? Below are ways that we can connect and create the space you need to flourish in the life you truly want.

1. Private Chat You have questions. You’re not sure where you are or where to start. This is a no-pressure, one-on-one conversation where you get to just talk honestly and I listen. No agenda, no pitch, no performance required. Just a real conversation to help you get clear on what you need and whether I’m the right person to support you. If something in you said yes while reading this, the Private Chat is where we start.

I’m Ready to Chat

2. Café Conversations Some things are easier to say out loud when you’re in a room with women like you. Café Conversations are intimate, small-group conversations designed for women who are done pretending everything is fine and ready to be in honest company. We talk. We listen. We think out loud together. No fixing. No advice-giving. Just real women, real conversation, and the kind of clarity that comes when you finally say the thing you’ve been carrying.

3. REALigned This is the deeper work. REALigned is a guided experience built on the Radiate Real™ Pathway — a process that helps you stop running on conditioning and start leading from what’s actually true for you. We move through awareness, honesty, and embodied alignment so that your decisions, your boundaries, and your life stop reflecting who you were told to be and start reflecting who you actually are. If you’re ready to stop performing and start leading from the inside out, REALigned is where that happens.

4. VIP Coaching — Personalized, Private, Powerful This is for the woman who is ready to go all in on herself. VIP Coaching is private, personalized support where we work together one-on-one using the full Radiate Real™ Pathway — tailored specifically to your life, your patterns, and where you are right now. No group. No template. Just focused, high-level support designed around you; your story, your goals, your next level. If you are ready for the most direct path to living free, this is it.

Hey There!

That day was the last straw for me. “She wanted a fight… so today was her lucky day.”

Who is she? She’s the bully from ninth grade.

Every day, she had something ugly to say to me, always some level of intimidation. At least, looking back, it feels like it was every day. To be honest, I feared her because I was short and skinny and her disposition made her seem like a giant. So I believed I would lose, get hurt, and be embarrassed in front of everyone if I fought back. I think she could smell the fear and that gave her confidence to keep up the pressure; not realizing a change was coming.

That day, in the hallway, I was about to line up for lunch. Before I could secure my spot, there she appeared, poised and ready to intimidate. But not today. Something in me snapped and a new me arose.

I had just come from band class, rushing to lunch as usual. Our band director was phenomenal. He trained us at a level far beyond our years. Memorizing every marching band piece, lining up with precision, holding ourselves to a standard of excellence.

To reach this level, Mr. Felix always kept us past the lunch bell, cutting our lunchtime short. Of course, we hated that part because that was social hour and we missed it most days. It worked out for me in the long run as I became a first chair saxophone and flute player, majorette, and drum major. Our marching band was the pride of Beaufort County and our Concert Band performed beautifully.

But let’s be clear, I couldn’t wait for him to let us go that day. I ran from the band room into the main building, hungry and rushing to get in line before the crowd, but there she was. Something ugly or threatening came out of her mouth and with no pre-planning, no second-guessing, I decided: if a fight was what she wanted, then a fight was what she was going to get.

I stood up to her with a deep, unshakable anger in my soul. It seems like bullying me brought her joy or made her feel powerful. But this time, she wasn’t wielding the power. I was and I let her have it! With my words. My presence. My invitation to a fight. “You want to fight me, then come on,” I yelled. I was enraged. It felt like an out-of-body experience.

All the fear of the past turned into a determination to stand up for myself. I had reached the end of my rope and was no longer willing to succumb to the bully. The energy coursing through my body was unfamiliar. And she felt it.

She saw I wasn’t playing. She called her own bluff. My fists didn’t become necessary because she backed down. Her power lived in my fear, in the intimidation. But when she was faced with fearlessness, she was stunned. Unprepared.

I didn’t know at the time that this was an intuitive release of POWER. Some part of me knew that living from fear was no longer sustainable. That a bully is only effective through intimidation, a pathetic knockoff of real strength. A counterfeit. A mirage. I was born with true power. I just didn’t know it. I wasn’t skilled in how to use it properly. So in that moment I sank to her level in some ways, but rose in power in another.

How do you respond when peace is what your soul desires but the world around you is unkind and full of chaos? You can feel hopeless and learn to shrink back. You could fight and become someone you won’t like. Or you can find another way.

That day I decided: “Stand up and fight, and they’ll leave you alone.”

That belief hardened me. It made me distant, ready to battle, always looking for the next threat coming my way. Hyper-vigilant, especially with girls and later on with women.

Fear-based power.

I built a wall. Kept my circle small. Held my shield high.

I thought I was protecting myself, but I was really building a prison.

I liked being social. I liked laughing, having fun with friends. But the idea of safety superseded it all. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to choose differently. I was sensitive. I cared deeply about peace. I wanted love, for people to be kind to one another. I wanted to be liked.

But that day in the lunch line, I decided that the best protection was to be ready for a fight and keep people at a distance.

So I sent a clear message with my attitude and body language: “Don’t mess with me. Stay away from me if you are not for me.”

When my brother started working at my high school, he would chastise me for not being social. For walking through the halls with my eyes fixed ahead, moving with purpose. No time for chit-chat. No time for caddy girls and their nonsense. I was about my education, about business.

The problem?

I missed out on interactions that could have made high school more fun. More joyful.

Instead, I left high school and never looked back until my 40th class reunion.

Again and again, life reinforced my belief that keeping people at a distance was in my best interest. Interactions with the mean girls, the betrayals, the cold stares were far too frequent, so it appeared that it was safer to lock the door and require a thorough interview process for entrance into my circle.

My introduction to Clemson University only made me double down on my philosophy.

One of my first days on campus, I walked past some sorority girls, and their sharp, rolling eyes could’ve cut me deep.

But no, no, no! My shield was up.

I sent ugly right back.

They became my nemesis for the 2-3 years while they remained on campus. I held a grudge because I knew I had done nothing to them. They didn’t know me. They had no reason. Just reinforcing the need for the protection that distance created.

Now that I’m older, the reason for their behavior has been clarified. I may not have understood my power yet, but they saw it immediately and their insecurities got the best of them.

But back then?

My mindset was simple: Be ready for the fight, and they’ll leave you alone.

So I put on my fighter persona. Not a physical fighter—but the attitude. The energy. The shield. The “I’m good with my closed circle, so stay away” expression.

I was masking the hurt.

The pain of being disliked for simply being me.

And that? That cut deep, even through the shield. Masked but real.

I have since done the work to remember who I really am, to love myself again, and to tap into my real power within. I have developed the skills to stand on my convictions, standards, and values with confidence, no longer relying on anger to feel and appear strong.

Loving myself has meant accepting and embracing my differences; my unique nature that makes me powerful. People look for a box to put you in that makes them comfortable and when you don’t fit, they treat you as an outsider or they “otherize” you. This makes bullying much easier to participate in. But when you know who you are, you powerfully lead from within and no box will ever be big enough to hold you.

Being different is God’s gift to you and to the world. If you were like everyone else, you would blend in and be of little influence and create minimal positive impact. Grasp this fact and everything changes.

No matter your previous successes, there is a next-level calling you forward—a purpose beneath the surface, demanding more of you.

My mission is to be a catalyst for cracking through that surface and to support you in removing the barriers that are blocking the release of your next level. It’s time to ramp up your power flow and drop the counterfeit armor you built to survive life’s challenges.

You don’t need protection. What you need is to remember who you really are. The power you hold within. When you know your power, you don’t have to fight, brace for the fight, or shrink ever again. You set the rules, stand your ground and people move accordingly. Life begins to open up in the most amazing ways.

The walls you built to protect yourself? They’ve served their purpose, but now it’s time to demolish them and move with certainty into the life that’s calling you forward. You are not here to survive the battle—you are here for an abundant life experience.

I am with you,

Trini

Most people reference him through the “I Have a Dream” speech. That makes sense. A dream can feel inspiring without being demanding. It allows us to hope for a better future without requiring us to become anything different today.

What speaks more powerfully to me is his prophetic “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech, delivered the night before his death.

This passage from the speech resonates most:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop… I just want to do God’s will… And I’ve seen the promised land… I may not get there with you. But we, as a people, will get to the promised land… Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

This was no longer a dream to him.
It was reality.

He saw the promise fulfilled before his life ended. And because he believed, we are now called to believe; not passively, but actively.

Dreaming can keep us lulled into inaction.
Belief requires movement.

We must wake up from the dream, claim our power, and do the work to become who we are meant to be. We must live for what matters and refuse distraction by shiny objects that pull us off purpose.

There is a promised land calling you forward.
And your unique gifts are required for all of us to get there.

Stop dreaming.
Start believing.
And move.

Surface inspiration is easy. Leadership is not.

If you’re ready for conversations that lead to action, subscribe.

This space is for women who don’t just dream of change.
They lead it.

Caught between two minds, two beliefs, two options?

Recently I was invited to be a co-author in an anthology book project. It would be the second time my leadership and wisdom were published in a collective work designed to impact the lives of others.

Years ago, as a brand-new coach, I would have jumped at the offer. I would have felt honored just to be asked. I would have focused on how it could boost my credibility and status as a thought leader. Excitement and validation would have carried more weight than truth.

But this time, because I have come back to my power, to the truth of who I am as a leader, and to the calling on my life to guide women back to themselves; I paused.

I remembered that my time, my gift, my wisdom, and my partnerships deserve thoughtful consideration. Not rush. Not urgency. Not flattery.

The excitement of an offer, the promise of exposure, the hope of being appreciated are not the elements of a grounded decision.

So what did I do?

I headed to the West Coast for Christmas and declared that I would make the decision after the holidays. Of course, the old thoughts whispered, Hurry. She needs an answer. Don’t hold people up. But I stayed true to me.

The awareness of the impending decision remained present, floating to the surface periodically. But I have learned, through experience and some painful wrong turns, to take my time and to never respond until I know for sure.

What does it mean to know for sure?

It is when the inside of you says yes.
When peace settles in your body.
When clarity arrives without force.

It is not pushed.
It is received.
You just know.

And yes, this knowing comes with practice.

Why is knowing for sure so important?

Because the decision is your responsibility.
The outcome belongs to God, time, and the unfolding of life.

You only need to know whether to say yes or no.
The how, when, where, and why will reveal themselves later.

So I declared two intentions:

1. Step away from business until January 5.

2. Make the decision the week I returned.

I honored both.

And on Monday morning, January 5, the day I am writing this post, the answer landed.

I was sitting in my office on my LoveSac bean bag during my quiet time. Journaling. Reflecting. Writing ideas for my REALigned™ group. Wrapped in my blanket. Hot water with lemon beside me on the side table.

I asked myself and God, “Is this book project for me?”

Immediately the answer dropped into my knowing.

YES.

No hesitation. No doubt. Just pure truth.

I sent the message and accepted the offer immediately.

I do not yet know what I will write or how the project will unfold. I simply know that my answer is YES. I trust the leader I’ll be working with. And I believe the words I write will meet the women who need them.

I am called. I answered. The impact is beyond my control.

The Decision Framework

What I witnessed in myself through this process became a framework of how I make grounded decisions, and can guide you to do the same.

1. Declare

Make your intention(s) clear.
State what is true for you.
“I will wait until I hear a clear answer.”

2. Trust

Believe that clarity will come.
Pressure blocks wisdom. Trust invites it.

3. Release

Let go of what interferes with your knowing:

• Fear

• Pressure

• Doubt

• Guilt

• Worry

This clears the noise before you move forward.

4. Live

Live your life.
Do not pause your world while you wait for an answer.

5. Anticipate

Hold the question lightly. Listen for the answer.
Stay aware, not anxious.

6. Receive

When the answer lands, accept it.
Without bargaining, overthinking, or diluting the truth you know.

This is how you return to True You in all of your decisions.
This is how you make decisions that honor your power.
This is how you say yes — or no — from a place of truth.

Every Leader Must Answer This

Do you trust your knowing?

Women who lead must recognize and trust their knowing.

What decision in your life or leadership is asking for a grounded yes or no?

Share it below. Your transparency may be the mirror another woman needs.