confessions from 35,000 feet

Hey

If you’re new here—welcome. I’m Genta, and historically, I’m great at boarding big life changes.

It’s just the turbulence of becoming that makes me want to press the call button and request emotional support… or maybe just more snacks.

Now drop that combo into a transatlantic flight with zero signal, hydration levels last seen in a cactus, and a rogue fart lingering like it booked the window seat…

…top it off with the most emotionally potent chocolate cake I’ve ever had, and voilà—excellent newsletter material.

I’m writing this somewhere over the Atlantic:
35,000 feet in the air.

The cabin lights are dimmed.
My legs are folded like a pretzel with stories it’ll never tell.
There’s condensation on the window beside me, and the silence is only interrupted by the occasional seat-shift and the crinkle of someone’s rogue snack wrapper.

(It’s giving artisanal airline vibes with the internal chaos of a gas station slushie machine.)

One earbud in. Hoodie pulled over my eyes like a blackout curtain.
Hair last seen at Gate E13.
Slightly delusional. Fully reflective.

The flight map says we’re approaching Frankfurt, which honestly feels like a bold promise given my hydration status (somewhere between dried fig and desert mirage) and the fact that I’ve now watched Daddio twice—
once intentionally, and once because I fell asleep mid-cracker, like I was emotionally carbo-loading before crash-landing into my next identity.

There’s something about this kind of travel—
the altitude, the stillness, the nowhere-ness—
that brings everything into focus,
but also makes it all feel like a dream you forgot to write down.

No calendar.
No signal.
No pressure to be efficient or inspiring.
Just time.
And a cabin full of strangers all breathing the same recycled air and quiet tension.

And me.
In row whatever.
Starting to feel the quiet thud of it all settling in.

Not the fear.
Not the overwhelm.

But the realization
that something is ending,
and something else is beginning—
and I’m right in the middle of the free fall.

This is the part no one really talks about.

The in-between.

Where you’ve already said the big yes—
but your brain hasn’t caught up.
Where your body is technically in motion—
but emotionally, you’re still at Gate E13, eating a turkey club you didn’t want and quietly panicking about who you’re becoming.

Where you’ve packed everything you thought you’d need,
and a few things your nervous system snuck through customs.

It’s not the moment before.
It’s not the arrival.
It’s the sacred, slightly uncomfortable liminal space
after the brave thing,
before the "worth it."

And honestly?

It’s weird here.

Quiet.
Itchy.
A little unmoored.

I thought this part would feel empowered.
Like a glow-up montage with great lighting and a soft indie soundtrack.

But instead?

It feels more like:

Me. In the dark. Hoodie on. Mid-cracker.
While my identity unspools somewhere over Greenland.

Still... there’s something sacred about this stretch of sky.

Because in the quiet?
When everything else falls away?
That’s when the truth starts tapping its foot like it’s been waiting for you.

Not in a lightning bolt kind of way—
more like a soft tap on the shoulder
from the version of you you’re becoming.

The one who’s a little braver.
A little softer.
A little less performative, and a lot more true.

The one who’s not in a rush to arrive
because she’s learning to honor where she already is.

Not a breakthrough.
Not a reinvention montage.
Just a quiet shift.
Like realizing your second Daddio viewing was less entertainment, more metaphor.

This is the moment we try to skip.
But it’s also where the becoming actually begins.

And that’s why I built my mentorship—
not for the version of you who’s already landed,
but for the one still floating in between.

The one quietly unraveling and rebuilding at the same time.
The one who isn’t looking for a five-step plan—
but a place to breathe.

My 8-week, 1:1 mentorship opens April 22.

It’s for the woman in quiet reinvention.
Who wants presence instead of pressure.
Who’s tired of performing and craving peace.

We’ll build rituals that regulate,
choices that nourish,
and rhythms that actually feel like yours.

You don’t have to be fully ready.
Just willing.

✨ Join the waitlist

If your personal growth feels like it’s stuck in customs,
this mentorship might just be your passport stamp.

I’ll be in Albania by the time you read this.
New timezone. New rhythm.
Same me—just a little more willing to land in the middle.

Wherever you are in your in-between…
I’m right here too.

Your favorite seatmate in the in-between,

— Genta 🤍