I looked to escape the wrath of my oldest brother, who was troubled and began drinking at the age of thirteen. I turned to my mom and dad for protection, but that comfort was temporary. As a free spirit, the two things that offered the most happiness were sailing with my mother and skiing, and I became very skilled at both.

I left for college with a hard breastplate, looking for a fresh start. I was quick to make new friends and joined the ski team. Skiing had always given me a sense of freedom and joy, but I struggled to keep relationships. I often picked unavailable men and had a hard time making close girlfriends, which contributed to feeling like an outsider.

Even with my struggles, I’d always been drawn to people. After graduating college, I took a job as a sales associate, and after that, I became a corporate recruiter. I loved getting to know candidates and what made them tick as I matched them with positions where they’d thrive. I came to realize I had a talent for guiding people to find their way, even though I still found myself searching for my own path.

In my mid-twenties, I met a man, fell in love, got married and we quickly started a family. Everything seemed to be right for a while, and the loneliness I’d felt for much of my life dissipated. That happiness was fleeting and before long my loneliness crept back in.

As a progressive wife and mother, I was determined to work, but that changed the day I held my firstborn in my hands. I wanted to stay home and be the primary influence in her life. I could always go back and have a career, but I couldn’t get that special time with her back. It took me several more years and two more pregnancies before I had the nerve to tell my husband that I wanted to raise our children full-time, and I never once regretted my decision.

Staying home to raise my four daughters was my biggest, proudest, and most challenging job. Through the years, I often put my needs second and third behind my four daughters and husband. I stayed busy volunteering in my daughters’ classrooms, being a Girl Scout Leader, and being an assistant soccer coach. I valued being an interested presence in their lives and I found volunteering gave me purpose. Another great perk: all the great mom friends I made along the way. I wasn’t a perfect parent, just ask my girls, but I did my best to raise them with more confidence than I’d had growing up. It was important to me to teach them how to develop their sense of self so they could become the best version of themselves. Yet I was still struggling to find my confidence and self, hiding it behind a cheerful and can-do attitude.

By my mid-forties, I was taken down an unexpected path after my mother had a heart attack and my husband’s lawyer delivered some shocking news that further revealed how alone I was. Suddenly, I was sandwiched between caring for my parents, managing unreliable caregivers, raising four teenage daughters, and trying to understand the choices of the husband I thought I knew.

As I struggled to “do it all” I began facing the reality that the ideal life and family that I’d thought would save me was slowly crumbling. I turned to therapy, practiced yoga, rediscovered nature, developed a strong female tribe, and began writing. As I explored the layers of my life and healed my past, I realized that I was the only one who could create the life I wanted and deserved.

My writing continued over the next couple of years, and to my surprise, I ended up with a memoir I didn’t know I had in me. My book chronicles a time in my life when I began to examine my belief system and how I slowly changed my thoughts and behaviors to discover the happiness I’d been searching for. My book, Sandwiched A Memoir of Holding On and Letting Go, is now available at your local bookstore or on Amazon.

After my youngest had just left for college I’d made a life-altering decision. I became an empty nester and decided to leave my twenty-six-year marriage. I didn’t like the term empty nester. It sounded too sad, so I told my friends I was a Freebird and took my free bird status seriously—too seriously, it turned out. After leaving a marriage that was suffocating, I said yes to weekend trips, meeting friends, joining writing courses, starting a coaching business, buying a new home, and dating while navigating a divorce. I didn’t know how to back out of any of it even though I was stressed, but my body had its own wisdom. I ended up in the hospital not once, but twice. I was diagnosed with an unnamed virus with migrating arthritis. I left the hospital with a walker. It felt like my nervous system had been short-circuited and I was forced to rest. I chose to listen to the messages my body had sent me and let go of everything to focus on my health. During my seven-month recovery, I reevaluated everything and searched for a new direction.

I returned to my core values—making a difference in a meaningful way. As I healed and sorted out my priorities, I discovered Martha Beck’s “Wayfinder Life Coach Training.” I was drawn to her mind-body coaching techniques that were research and science-based. Her coaching program was a perfect fit—a blend of the mind-body work I’d done in yoga, therapy, and alternative healing classes where I learned how to listen to myself. Her experience and coaching philosophy mirrored the journey I’d chronicled in my memoir.

I start most mornings walking my adopted husky, Lu, on the strand in Manhattan Beach. It gets our day off to a great start. I continue giving back through volunteering. I volunteer for a high school youth program that exposes teens to a variety of career paths as they think about the schools they might apply to. Amongst other things, they learn the importance of networking, thank you notes, and eye contact. I also enjoy being a member of a collaborative giving circle that pools donation dollars to make a larger impact on Los Angeles-based non-profits that are helping the most vulnerable in our community.

When I’m not walking my dog, volunteering, promoting my book, or coaching, you can find me skiing, sailing, hiking, doing yoga, spending time with friends, or planning my next adventure.