From the Diary: My Thoughts After Attending Freedom Queen

Some weekends break you open. Others shatter you in the most delicious of ways. When you’ve crafted the language behind some of the hottest programs. Poured tears over sections of a mastermind sales page. Watched your clients rise from the ashes on a 6-inch screen. Witnessed great ideas go viral. Taken on projects for non-profits that are quite literally ending world hunger. Created copy for new tech that’s impossible to fully articulate the power of. You think you’ve seen it all.

You think you’ve felt it all. You think you’re ahead of the game. You know what’s to come in the industry. You think you can go to a conference, gain a few insights, then catch a flight back home. You think you can pour into the people around you, then turn the mirror to yourself and whisper a smug, ‘I’m good where I am.’ And that was me for the first 3 days of Freedom Queen. 

Don’t get me wrong, I was loving the event. 

Day 1 mixer, I was convinced a few of the women I met would be my new business besties. Day 2, I embodied a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader when my clients went on stage to speak. I thought I might cry thinking about who they were 2 years ago, because it was also a mirror for how much I’ve grown in the past 2 years. And on day 3, love flowed out of me as I saw the women who were already bright, light up even harder when we locked eyes across the table and I knew they were sprinting to the back of the room to go all in on themselves by purchasing a mastermind. 

But then Day 4 happened. The VIP Day. I bought the VIP ticket because my driving force is FOMO. I knew the caliber of woman here was going to be so high vibe we’d shake the entire Vinoy with goodness. I wanted to be in their energy. I wanted to crack jokes with smart women. Like how fun. I wanted to be in the frequency of joy when someone has an idea that they know is capable of rewriting how the world operates. I wanted to watch how Bridget moves, sells, and holds it all. I didn’t want to miss connection time with the world’s top 400 women to watch. Of course I went VIP. 

I don’t know if this was percolating inside of me all weekend, just waiting for the safety to come into my conscious mind. I don’t know if it was one aha moment from one line with one powerful coach. I don’t know if it was the collective energy of playing bigger. I don’t know if it was me putting pen to paper with the ticker tape of identity shifts playing in the back of my mind. But something broke my chains open with pliers. 

For the first time all weekend, I decided to look at myself. 

I realized I was hiding behind the facade of wanting to be of service to others this weekend. Hiding behind the ego of my ‘newly polished’ offer suite. Feeling like my cup doesn’t have as much capacity to expand as the women around me. Looking at everyone, wishing them everything they dream of, but putting myself into an ‘other’ category. But what broke my heart the most is that in helping build some of the most powerful women online through messaging, I could never see that I am one right up there with them. 

I baked my limiting beliefs in so hard. Packed them up so tightly, that I rewrote them as strengths. I rebranded my playing it safe as my differentiator. And this felt like my truth. An unshakeable concrete. Marketed so well to myself that I moved with so much conviction. I made it to $30-$50K months, I know who the F I am. I know what I’m doing. Even if in the background, I’m slowly unraveling everything, trying to create a false bigness that allows me to feel justified in my existing bigness. 

It’s humility. It’s my ego. It’s my other-ing myself as a service provider, instead of letting myself become a figure if that’s my path. It’s not that I see myself as worse. It’s that I saw myself as different. I used past failed launches of coaching offers to prove that I’m meant to do things not teach them. And maybe I’m not meant to teach. Maybe my fiery sharpness that wants to roll up her sleeves, get the damn thing done, and make it amazing is exactly where I’m supposed to be. But even in this spot, I am never meant to hide. I’m not meant to create something that feels ‘legit’ in the eyes of a wounded woman. I am healing from a rejection that still stings, and I feel so much need to prove that I’m a real businesswoman. Whatever that means. I thought I’d have to create something that looks good on paper. A global team. A studio lean. Not a personal brand. Anything that says, ‘look, it’s not just me, some girl, writing copy in bed, eating a bar of chocolate and making epic amounts of money.’ 

But that’s exactly who she is. And Freedom Queen showed me that that’s the freedom. That I don’t have to hide behind titles. Create systems that feel like prisons. Distance myself from what I love. And align myself with someone else’s version of success. 

I am the power. 

And if the power comes from milk chocolate with pieces of crispy quinoa inside, then someone get me a brand deal. 

So when Day 4 was over and I got on my long-haul flight to Brazil, I became that girl who was going deep in a dark tube and typing up a storm on her dimly lit laptop. I had so much to say. So much to integrate. But really only one thing came out. 

You gave up your bigness to create your perception of bigness. 

And it gutted me. I thought of all the times I put tape over my mouth. Over the mouth of my team who just wanted me to be me. All of the times I orchestrated something that fit a narrative of I’m worthy of this. And shunned everything that felt like I was moving backwards. Even though moving backwards was running into the arms of the girl who scaled a copywriting business from the ground up to a monthly income that’s most people’s salaries. 

When I gave her up, I was stagnant. Even dipping. The more I became a ‘better business’ the less impact I made. Content views dipped. Inquiries dipped. I blamed everything because the truth was too painful. Algorithm. Economy. Maybe the coaching industry is dying. You name it, I went there. 

To scale, I took the path of abandoning myself. Chasing the path of maybe the people who rejected me will accept me. When the secret was always coming home to the people who accepted me at every stage of my business. Who hired me again and again because I was accessible. Who loved the way I’d show up on Zoom calls with frizzy hair, a sweatshirt, and the best damn idea for a headline. She’s the Freedom Queen. 

And after the dust settles. After the burn cools down from realizing how much rope I had used in the past year to tie myself up. I plan on playing, not big, but buckwild. 

Because Freedom Queen shined a light on my smallness. The little things about me that make me unstoppable. The way I’m one person who has the power to create legendary women and brands that change the world. I can’t give her up for the flimsy excuse that I’m growing. I can’t abandon her just to chase a dream that’s not even mine. And I sure as f*ck can’t hide her behind some faceless company that dims the gift that is hers to share. 

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Guess what? I’m going to another in-person event. Catch me at Living Brave Live next September. Wanna join me? Hit that button, because only for November, tickets are 50% off. 

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