The Phoenix didn't arrive as a neat logo or borrowed myth. It was born from fire I never asked for and ashes I didn't think I could rise from.
I knew loss, betrayal, and the kind of loneliness that makes you forget yourself. Toxic relationships. Family fracture. Grief that split the ground beneath me. For a long time, I stayed strong on the outside and shattered on the inside.
And then the fire came—the kind that strips everything bare.
What I didn't know then was that this was not an ending. It was a beginning. In the very ashes of that life, I found embers—small, stubborn, glowing. They became my path back.
When I met Adrian Wildsmith, I recognized in his art what I had lived: the flames, the fall, and the rise.
That's why I commissioned this Phoenix painting (which is still in the making) —not as a pretty emblem, but as a living map of transformation.
The Phoenix itself is me—not because I rose once, but because I keep rising, every time life calls me to.
This Phoenix will watch over every session I hold, reminding us: transformation is possible, and you don't walk through fire alone.
This is why I coach. Not from theory, but from the fire. Not as someone who watched from afar, but as someone who walked through it.
I hold this Phoenix as an invitation to anyone who has known the burn, the ashes, the silence. To those who have functioned on the outside but felt lost inside. To those who are ready not just to survive—but to rise.
You don't have to carry the fire alone. I'll walk with you until your wings are ready—and beyond.
