Let me start by saying: I am not a gambler. Okay?

I don’t thrill-seek for fun.
I’m not wired for chaos.
I don’t make impulsive bets and hope the universe sorts it out.

My version of “living on the edge” are things like trying to drink my coffee before I remember the mug exists only when it’s cold. Or letting my phone linger at 2% battery life while I stare at the charger… six feet away. 😈

So when I tell you that I once walked into a room full of people who treat risk like a casual Tuesday and decided to bet big on myself please understand: this was my version of skiing down a black diamond. Blindfolded.

The room I’m talking about? It was an event hosted by none other than Brendon Burchard. A name you might recognize if you’ve ever googled things like “how to stop procrastinating” or “how to get my shit together before my to-do list eats me alive.”

There was a moment.

You know the kind I’m talking about.

The moment where you can either decide to stay cozy, sipping metaphorical hot chocolate on your “Blue Run” of life, or you can take the lift to the top of the mountain and pray you don’t freeze to death (or, in my case, break everything).

For four days Brendon shared insights about business, clarity, focus, and the habits of high performers. He talked about the power of investing in yourself — not just financially, but emotionally, mentally, energetically.

And before I knew it, I’d done something I never imagined myself doing:

I invested $15,000 in mentorship.

FIFTEEN. THOUSAND. DOLLARS.

(Yes, I triple-checked the credit card receipt just to make sure I hadn’t accidentally purchased a lightly used sedan instead.)

And honestly, it was equal parts exhilarating and nauseating.
Like clicking “confirm” on something that immediately forces you to become the person who deserves it.

But the investment wasn’t really about the money.

It was about saying, I’m ready to be in rooms where people think bigger than I’ve allowed myself to think.

It was about deciding that my work, my growth, and my mission were worth backing—fully.

What stayed with me most from that experience wasn’t even what happened on stage.

It was what happened after.

I had the chance to meet Jamie Kern Lima and talk with her — not as an audience member, not through a screen. Just a real conversation that stuck with me.

If you don’t know her story, here’s the short version:

Relentless rejection.
A thousand no’s dressed up as “feedback.”
Being told she wasn’t the right face for her own brand.

And still, she built IT Cosmetics from her living room couch.
And sold it for $1.2 billion.

{{first_name}}, she’s exactly who you hope she’ll be.

Warm. Present. Fully there.
The kind of person who looks at you like she’s listening for who you are becoming,
not just who you’ve been.

We talked. Briefly, but meaningfully.
The kind of exchange that somehow feels both casual and catalytic.

No rehearsed soundbites.
No billionaire energy in the worst way.
Just truth, curiosity, and this unmistakable steadiness that comes from someone who’s walked through fire and didn’t let it harden her.

And somewhere in that conversation—without fanfare, without drama—she said something that landed in my body before it landed in my brain:

“You are not too much for the right people.”

Oof.

If I can be honest, I’ve spent plenty of time worrying about being “too much.”
Too ambitious.
Too intense.
Too opinionated.
Too all-in.

I’ve softened edges.
Downplayed dreams.
Made things more digestible so they wouldn’t scare anyone — including myself.

But what Jamie reminded me of is simple and sharp:

The right people don’t ask you to shrink.
They make room.

And the wrong people?
They were never meant to come with you anyway.

That line has followed me ever since.

Because growth doesn’t arrive wrapped in certainty.
It arrives with questions.
With discomfort.
With moments where you wonder if you’re in way over your head.

And that’s exactly how you know you’re in the right room.

So as January winds down, and the noise fades, I want to ask you {{first_name}}:

What is this season asking you to look at honestly?

Not fix.
Not overhaul.
Just see.

What’s the decision you keep circling, but haven’t named yet?
The one your future self is quietly rooting for?

For me, this January wasn’t about resolutions.
It was about alignment.
About choosing rooms that stretch me.
About trusting that wanting more doesn’t make me reckless, it makes me honest.

What’s your January moment?

Hit reply and tell me.
I’m listening. And cheering you on.

Here’s to clarity over comfort,
and choosing what grows us — even when it’s uncomfortable.

Your favorite not-a-gambler (but willing to bet on herself) friend,

Genta 🤍

P.S: If this resonated and you haven’t joined us inside the membership yet, there’s a seat waiting for you.