We are infinite creatures in a world of finite resources. Meaning, the limits we face are often a result of everything we force ourselves to carry.

This is the real weight of monotony: Forcing ourselves to keep carrying things that don't serve us, just because we haven't allowed ourselves sufficient space to realize we're capable of putting them down.

As I continue to rebuild my coaching practice with the goal of making it, and me, as vividly alive as possible, in fierce defiance of the death cult that is the US federal government, I have been shedding like a maine coon in July.

Call it curation or pruning or trimming the fat (actually don't call it that; trimming the fat is criminal, that's where all the flavor is). I'm getting rid of things that don't serve me because I am over having scattered, "busy energy." Radical spaciousness has become my antidote to living in a era designed to constantly overwhelm us.

My resilience begins with reclaiming energy from anywhere it isn't thoughtfully invested—AND no longer forfeiting it to avoid conflict or discomfort.

Here’s everything I’ve released or exited from so far as I build focus in my practice:

• Like 80% of my website.
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• The family group chat. (Half those people aren’t talking to me anyway.)
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• My weekly accountability group of very cool ladies because our work and ambitions are no longer aligned.
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• Instagram, Facebook posts, local flyers.
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• My free support group for neurospicies. (Pour one out; miss this gang already.)
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• Every offer I was selling except one.
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• Half of my weekly client slots.
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• My to-do lists. (Now I find the priority, do that, then be done.)
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• Other people's ideas of what's "viable" or "scalable" for my practice.
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• External calls to make my work "accessible," "approachable," or "reasonable." (Read: conflict-free.)
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• Letting the coaching part of my practice be easy and the business part be a challenge. (Now I seek challenging coaching work and let the business side be easy-peasy. Which, who knew you could just decide to do that. Bananas.)
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• Privileging efficiency or convenience when I have an opportunity to connect meaningfully instead.
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• Putting into emails what’s more meaningfully said in a call.
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• Giving help before someone’s asked for it.

Each one of these things feels like a relief, even if most of them are seriously bittersweet. (Except for the instagram one. Seriously, fuck you, meta.)

I already feel so much more room to breathe and room to welcome in this something new that's already at my door.

There is so much life in letting go.

Want to taste some spaciousness for yourself? Cutting things out that are familiar and comforting never comes easily, though it's definitely a skill that can built. Start here with me:

Think of something you want. And then brainstorm: What's one thing you need to leave behind to have space to welcome the new thing in?

Prepare for it to feel spicy; high quality change always does.

And once you've done it, sit with how it feels. Do you feel lighter? Grief? Closure? Tenderness? Badassery? Hit reply and tell me, lovely. <3

Love + solidarity,

Sam
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P.S. - Last call for my soon-to-be-retired prices! If this is the motivation you need to start your journey of change and growth, fucking seize it, baby. Time and price increases wait for no one. Do what feels the most alive for you today: Hit reply and ask me to set up a call.