The MRA’s Origin Story - Chapter 2
The Leap from Corporate to Entrepreneurship
I graduated from my coach training on the same day I became a mother. On June 4th, 2013, it felt as though I was being birthed into the world in two new roles simultaneously: mom and coach.
Coaching took a back seat in those early years of motherhood. Even though I had an ICF coaching accreditation and felt deep in my bones that this craft was made for me, it would take me years to confidently and proudly say with unshakable conviction: “I’m a coach.”
I had let the deeper knowing within me guide me toward becoming a coach. Announcing it to the world and following my dreams of one day leaving my corporate job to become an entrepreneur was a whole other mountain to climb—one that felt even more terrifying than the first.
In our training at the MRA, we often use Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey as a coaching framework to guide people through the stages of transformation. One of the first stages is when the hero hears their call to adventure—a deep, inner force yearning them forward into the unknown. It may begin as a fleeting thought but over time transforms into a visceral ache, an energetic pull that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Imagine standing on the edge of a cliff: the wind whispers, urging you to leap, but fear roots your feet to the ground, anchoring you to safety. That’s the next stage of the journey: the refusal of the call, which almost every hero inevitably encounters to some degree. This is another kind of pull, one steeped in the comfort of the known, whispering that staying put might be the safer, easier choice.
I vacillated between these two stages for a good while.
I would walk my son and dog every day, pushing his stroller while reciting the words of my vision statement: “I am a world-class coach, with a thriving roster of clients. I work from home, make my own hours, and I get my kids on and off the bus from school every day. I am in my life's work, impacting a million lives.” I would let the vision flood me with emotions of gratitude, joy, and freedom.
But the thought of actually doing something to make this vision a reality felt dangerous.
I was lucky to have a full-time permanent job: RRSP’s, benefits, security. A few weeks of vacation a year, a handful of paid sick days, the ability to work from home a day or two a week, a decent paycheck I could rely on.
I mean, what would I do if my kids ever needed braces?
How would we save for retirement?
My husband worked a dangerous construction job as an ironworker. What if he got injured? What if his body couldn’t work until 65?
What if, what if, what if?
So, for a while, I endured. I sought every opportunity to coach, whether through a quick coffee chat, a lunch walk, or stolen moments between meetings. These small acts fed my soul while I did the job I was paid for—work entirely unrelated to coaching. I shadowed and assisted our corporate coach Leslie whenever I possibly could. These moments were breadcrumbs of fulfillment in a larger world that simply didn’t align with me.
I remember overhearing conversations in the elevator about counting down to retirement—15 more years!—and feeling a pang of dread wash over me. I was still 30-plus years away from retirement, and the idea of counting down these precious years of my life to freedom felt unbearable.
“Don’t think about that,” I’d tell myself. “Don’t be selfish. Don’t be silly. Be grateful for what you have. Suck it up.” Taking a deep breath, I’d step off the elevator, stiffen my upper lip, and get back to work.
After all, I was a mother now. And it wasn’t all about me anymore.
It was within this tension that the beginning of the Mind Rebel™ Method began to take shape (although the name wouldn’t have been coined by my best friend Dawn until years later). I began to pull apart the different voices within me: The voice of fear, scarcity, and lack was my Rebel Mind, and the voice of love, possibility, and openness was the voice of my most Authentic Self.
I became curious about both of these personas inside me. I wanted to be with them, understand them, listen to them, and hear their points of view so that this tension wouldn’t operate on autopilot and wreak havoc on my mind, body, and soul.
Over the years, the tension between my secure job and my soul’s deeper yearnings became harder to ignore. By the time my daughter was born, the weight of staying in a role misaligned with my heart felt impossible to carry.
During my first week back at work in 2016, while my kids were home with their wonderful nanny, I found myself sitting in a meeting room with about six other participants. As I listened to each person contribute to the project, I felt a sudden out-of-body moment. It was as though I was observing the conversation from above, noticing how each person leaned in, fully engaged and excited about their work. And then it hit me with startling clarity: everyone here is so passionate about what we’re working on.
Everyone, except me.
Before, this might have been something I could tolerate. But now, sitting in that meeting room, counting down the minutes until the day was over, all I could think about was my kids at home, waiting for me.
The familiar comfort of my ordinary world was beginning to feel more stifling than the fear of stepping into the unknown.
That evening, the tension within me reached its peak. The yearning to become a full-time coach and leave my corporate job burned intensely, yet fear gripped me; it felt as though pursuing this dream might jeopardize my children’s safety and security. I tiptoed into their bedrooms, leaned over their cribs, and watched them sleep so peacefully.
As I stood there, tears quietly streamed down my face, a reflection of the immense love and fear coursing through me.
My role was to protect them, to ensure their security and stability—and my secure 9-to-5 job, with its steady paycheck, pension, and benefits, seemed to be doing just that. How could I justify leaving? How could I be so selfish as to think of abandoning this safety net for the sake of my dreams? Maybe, I thought, my purpose wasn’t to follow my dreams at all. Maybe it was to provide them with the comfort and stability they needed to pursue theirs.
But then, as clearly as if someone were standing beside me, I heard the voice of my authentic self: “If you want to raise brave humans who are courageous enough to follow their dreams, show them what that looks like.”
The weight of those words settled in my chest, both a challenge and a promise. I knew then—this was my moment of no return.
I had crossed yet another threshold.
Although I could not leave my corporate job yet, I created a goal: to build my coaching practice on the side until it could replace my corporate salary, paving the way for me to leave.
Step by step, I anchored into the voice of my authentic self. Listening to her wisdom became my top priority. I had a clear vision of the life I wanted to create, but the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be felt daunting. At the time, I had no coaching clients, no website, no social media presence—remember—I could barely even say the words “I’m a coach.”
Still, every day, I found moments to connect to that inner voice, the one that knew a way forward that my logical mind couldn’t grasp. Her guidance felt steady, and my job was simply to let her lead the way.
This wasn’t easy. My kids were just 1 and 2 at the time, and life was as full and demanding as you might imagine. But I made a promise to myself, and I refused to let anything derail it. I found creative ways to carve out moments in my day—moments to soothe my Rebel Mind and reconnect with my Authentic Self.
I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. to wake before the kids, giving myself an hour to journal and reflect. During my commutes on the public bus, I meditated, stealing quiet moments to reset my mind. I used my lunch breaks to find peace and quiet in the infirmary whenever possible, carving out a moment of calm amidst the chaos of my workday. These became sacred pockets of time where I could be fully present with myself. Each connection to my authentic self offered a next step forward, however small.
Write. Build a website. Practice saying “I’m a coach” in conversations.
One next best step at a time.
Meanwhile, something extraordinary was unfolding: the Mind Rebel™ Methodology began to take shape. I didn’t set out to create it; instead, it revealed itself piece by piece through my daily reflections and experiments with my inner world.
Once it emerged, the next step was clear: I needed to coach others using this approach.
I designed a program to guide clients through the methodology—a journey of anchoring into their deepest yearnings, mapping their hero’s journey, exploring the voices of their Rebel Mind and Authentic Self, and aligning with the part of them that instinctively knew the way forward.
My first client, Sylvie, was a friend and colleague. Introducing her to this work felt deeply vulnerable; it had been so personal to me until that moment. Despite my fears, I committed to showing up for her with my whole heart and soul.
The results? They were nothing short of extraordinary. Sylvie connected deeply with the methodology, experiencing profound shifts in her life.
It was working.
Sylvie turned into three clients. Three became six. Six became twelve. Before long, I had a full coaching roster through referrals alone, guiding clients through the Mind Rebel™ Methodology on evenings and weekends.
About one year after that pivotal line in the sand moment, I had achieved my goal.
It was time to take the leap.
Today, my kids are 10 and 11, and they’ve grown up knowing nothing else but their mom as a coach and entrepreneur. Since that time, I’ve achieved so much: winning awards, being featured in magazines and on podcasts, delivering keynote speeches, building a beautiful business, and guiding hundreds of people to step into their life’s work.
Yet above all these achievements, what fills me with the greatest pride is knowing I’ve shown my kids what it looks like to face the limiting beliefs and fears of the Rebel Mind and choose those big, bold, beautiful dreams brewing in your heart.
Looking back on these years, it might seem like courage came easily to me. But the truth is, I’ve never considered myself naturally brave. What carried me forward wasn’t the absence of fear—it was devotion. Devotion to my dreams, my family, and the parts of myself yearning to grow.
Because, of course, there is no final destination. In fact, it wasn’t long after I became a full-time coach that the whispers stirred once more, calling me toward my next great adventure—the creation of the Mind Rebel™ Academy. This was the beginning of something bigger than myself- impact that would ripple out and be felt for generations to come.
And so, the story continues next week, as I share the final chapter in the MRA’s Origin story.
In the meantime, I invite you to pause and reflect: What are the whispers calling you forward?
