I decided to quit my job on Mother's Day

Hi friend,

It's been a while. I want to start there. Not pretend it hasn't been.

If you're getting this email, you gave me your email address at some point. Maybe a year ago. Maybe two. Maybe last week. I'm grateful for that, and I'm not going to take it for granted again.

Here's what's been happening on my end. And what's changing about how you'll hear from me.

A few years ago I was a Vice President of People and Culture at a Fortune 50 company. I had the title. The team. The salary. The seat at the table. From the outside, the life I'd built looked exactly like the life women like me are supposed to want.

On Mother's Day 3 years ago, I remember leaving church and looking at my husband saying, "I think I need to leave my job." There were a million thoughts running through my head.

I had been knowing for a while my time was up. But, I kept holding on that things would change, or I would feel better. It never did. So, that Monday, I told my Senior Vice President that my time there was over. Within 2 weeks, my team was transitioned. By the end of June, I was gone.

In the months that followed, I figured out something specific.

I wasn't tired. I was untethered.

Tired is what a hard week feels like. Tired is fixed by a Saturday morning where nobody needs anything from you.

Untethered is different. Untethered is what happens when you spend years performing your way through a life that stopped fitting somewhere along the way, and you didn't notice. It's what happens when every system you built around your life was built for a woman who isn't you anymore. The calendar. The routines. The relationships. The way you spend your attention. The way you fill your time. All of it built for someone you've already outgrown.

You didn't fail. You outgrew. There's a difference.

I left the corporate role. I consulted with another large organization. Leadership changed and my contract left with it.

I launched a leadership course. It was great but I knew after 1 cohort. It wasn't it.

I shifted to 1:1 coaching with a lean towards career. I knew I was on the right track but not quite there.

In 2025, life happened in a big way. We unexpectedly lost my mother-in-law. I was diagnosed with a seafood allergy (after a major allergic reaction). And 2026 started off with a bang because I found myself having emergency appendectomy surgery.

In these last 3 years, I have learned to restart and put one foot in front of the other. I became really clear over the last 6 months who I want to serve and how I want to serve them.

I building a body of work for women who recognize themselves in what I just described. And today, I'm relaunching. Quietly. I want you to be part of it.

Here's what's changing.

Starting today, every Sunday at 6pm Central, I'll send one letter.

It's called The Sunday Anchor.

It's 600 words. Sometimes 700. It lands in the same place every week. In your inbox, around the time you're starting to feel the weight of Monday.

It's not a newsletter in the traditional sense. There's no tip list. No "five productivity hacks for busy moms." Each Sunday I write one letter on one thing. Something I'm sitting with. Something a client said this week. Something my husband and I figured out. Something my kids surfaced for me.

It's the closest thing I have to sitting at your kitchen counter on Sunday afternoon.

This email IS the first one. Consider it the inaugural Sunday Anchor.

If it lands, open the next one. And the one after that. Give it three Sundays before you decide if it's for you.

If it doesn't land, the unsubscribe link is at the bottom. No hard feelings. I'd rather have you in the right place than have you here out of obligation.

I have a few things in the works that I'll tell you about over the next few weeks. Some free. Some not. All built for the woman I just described.

For now, just this. The letter. Every Sunday. 6pm Central.

Next week, same time.

Watch for it.

Stay anchored, LCJ

P.S. If you have a working woman in your life who'd recognize herself in this, forward it to her. The Sunday Anchor is for her too.