There’s a version of this post where I just drop a polished announcement, a nice graphic, a countdown, and call it a day. But that’s not really how I want to show up for you here, so instead I want to tell you the truth about what the last few months have actually looked like.
One month from now, two books I’ve poured myself into, Raising Conscious Sons and Raising Conscious Daughters, are finally going to be in your hands! And I mean that literally: in your hands, on your nightstand, dog eared and highlighted and maybe even a little coffee stained by the time you’re done with them.
I’m proud. I’m thrilled! But want to know a secret?
Here’s what nobody really tells you about putting something this personal into the world: everyone sees the finished cover, the interviews, the events, the pretty video clips. What they don’t see are the years behind it. The nights I sat with a blinking cursor and nothing coming out, the drafts I scrapped entirely, and the creeping fear that I wasn’t going to be able to finish these books at all.
Self-doubt has a way of showing up uninvited and overstaying its welcome.
It whispered that I wasn’t saying anything new. It asked me who I thought I was to write about raising sons and daughters when my own journey as a mother is still, in many ways, unfolding. Some days that voice was so loud I nearly closed the laptop for good.
Underneath the self-doubt, there was something else pulling at me too, something that made this project feel less like a choice and more like a calling I needed to pursue.
Over the past several years, sitting across from parents and families in my practice, I kept noticing the same thing surfacing again and again: parents doing everything right by the old playbook, and still feeling completely lost. The more I listened, the more I realized why: so much of the advice I had built my career on, the frameworks I trusted, the guidance I’d given for years, was becoming outdated faster than I could have ever anticipated.
Technology, social media, the entire digital world our kids are growing up inside of, it’s not evolving the way previous generational shifts did. It’s moving at a pace none of us, myself included, were fully prepared for.
I’d sit with parents who were doing their best with information that simply hadn’t caught up to the reality their children were actually living in. Screens that shape identity before a child even knows who they are, algorithms parenting alongside us, whether we consented to it or not, entire childhoods unfolding in digital spaces that didn’t even exist when most parenting philosophies were written.
That’s when it hit me: this generation of children needs something none of us have fully written yet. Not another set of outdated rules stretched to fit a world they were never designed for, but an actual blueprint.
That realization terrified me and steadied me all at once. It’s a big responsibility to try to put words to something this new, but it’s also exactly why I couldn’t walk away from the desk, no matter how loud the self-doubt got.
This process, this messy, uncertain, deeply human process, grew into something much bigger than the page.
It became about trusting my own voice in a world that constantly tries to talk over it, and releasing my grip on fear long enough to let something honest come through. Creating means continuing even when perfectionism digs its claws in and convinces you to quit.
If you’ve ever built something meaningful and then had to work up the courage to actually share it, you already know exactly the feeling I’m describing. So instead of just announcing this launch and moving on, I wanted to invite you into it with me.
I’m hosting a free, live online Life-Class, and I’d love for you to be there.
I’m not planning for this to be some polished, rehearsed promo event, by the way.
I want to pull back the curtain completely, tell you stories about this process I’ve never shared publicly before, and hear from you too. I’ll be taking your questions live, reflecting on the lessons this whole journey taught me about courage and beginning again, and by the end, I want to invite you to be part of this launch in a way that feels collaborative and joyful, not just something you’re watching from the outside.
Because if I’ve learned anything from writing these books, it’s this: none of it means as much without a community to share it with.
I’d love for that community to include you. See you there!
With Love,
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