< A Little More About Me ... > – Once Upon a Trainwreck™

mperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” – Marilyn Monroe

She was onto something. Here’s my version …

mperfection is beauty, madness is genius,

and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” – Marilyn Monroe

She was onto something. Here’s my version …

mperfection is beauty, madness is

geniusand it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” – Marilyn Monroe

She was onto something. Here’s my version …

My fairytale looks a lot like a modern day western … horses, cows, goats and dogs, 4 wheel drive pickup trucks, even a wild hog.

It’s really pretty wonderful.

But not too long ago my fairytale looked more like this – still ranchy but …

… there was a King, a Villain, an Evil Stepmother and the realization that who I believed, at the time, to be Prince Charming, wasn’t.

The domineering King ruled the Kingdom, the Villain lurked around every corner, and the Evil Stepmother, if you didn’t know her, you’d think she was the kindest woman in the Kingdom, but underneath her mask … a very different woman.

And the not-Prince Charming??

They were all driving the train that crashed right smack into the tower I’d been Rapunzel’d™ in.

Had it not, though, I’d probably still be … Rapunzel’d™.

I remember growing up, when I was wrong about something or made a mistake trying to help, the King would pat me on the head and say – “It’s ok, princess.”

It made me feel so stupid and belittled to the point of feeling worthless.

I grew to detest any reference to “Princess.”

I was fully aware of the disdain I had for the reference, the reaction it evoked, all of it – long before I understood why it mattered as much as it did.

Then came the man who I thought to be Prince Charming. Enduring that situation is when I first had the awareness of having been Rapunzel’d™ – trapped, the “Prince” standing right outside, knowing I couldn’t get out and left me there anyway.

That’s when I began to see the tower walls very clearly.

But I thought it was because of that relationship.

As it turned out, though, that relationship was just one room in the tower.

Then out of nowhere, I was blindsided by an epic trainwreck™ that destroyed my fairytale, as it was written then, and the tower I was Rapunzel’d™ in right along with it.

But in the midst of riding out the trainwreck, I felt something I had never felt before – free.

I was free.

I picked the pieces of me out of the rubble of my crumbled tower and the wreckage of the truly epic trainwreck™ I’d somehow managed to survive, untangled the barbwire from my hair – and for the first time, standing outside of the whole mess, I could see everything.

The whole tower. Every room.

The not-Prince Charming room – the one I’d first recognized.

The King – his room came into focus now. The earliest conditioning. The “it’s ok princess”, him going on to say I needed to be more realistic, that had been building a wall around me long before I had any framework to see it.

The Villain – his room was the most terrifying, built on years of genuine fear. Those walls that became my normal, so familiar they’d stopped feeling like walls entirely and started being … life.

The Evil Stepmother – her room visible now too, built by lies, manipulation, gaslighting – now in full view.

Same tower. I just couldn’t see all of the rooms from inside any single one.

It was all very overwhelming, and the only way I knew to cope was with my abstract-creativity – so I started working on a storyboard. I called it A Fairytale Trainwreck™.

This is where I further developed the Rapunzel’d™ concept and named The Anti-Princess™.

I quantified the epic-ness of my particular trainwreck, picked it apart, analyzed and named the characters, what I hadn’t seen before – fully acknowledging what was right in front of me now, and began dealing with the pain, the hurt and figuring out who was left in the rubble of my crumbled tower and wreckage of the epic trainwreck™ I’d somehow managed to survive.

It was a compilation of both sides of my brain – I guess like everything else, it was driven by creativity, with a very analytical OS .

The storyboard became a “living concept” to process – what had happened, what was still happening, what I’d been through, what I was going through, what it all actually meant, how I didn’t see it coming, the signs I recognized but ignored, the questions I remember having, but ignored. The things that felt very wonky, but I ignored.

The tower. The trainwreck. My desperate want for healing and transformation.

The conductors. The rooms.

Taking the pen and writing my own happily ever after, in a whole new fairytale™.

All of it came out of that storyboard.

A Fairytale Trainwreck™ to Once Upon a Trainwreck™ and A Whole New Fairytale™.

I’ve been developing all of this for years – with my initial beginnings of recognition of having been Rapunzel’d™, then finding my bootstraps under the rubble and the wreckage.

Everything I’ve designed and teach here is built the same way – the excavation, conceptualizing my Anti-Princess Identity™ outline, embodying the identity and apply her to my life – completing the transformation, and continuing to write.

Always from the inside out.

From lived experience, not borrowed theory.

I had wished upon many stars for my own happily ever after, but I really didn’t think it was ever going to be part of my whole new fairytale.

And a real Prince Charming??

I had no idea the next chapter would include him, talk about a plot twist –

He showed up out of nowhere, when I wasn’t even looking, in his black cowboy hat .

One day, there he was – and I was ready.

My tower had crumbled. I’d been set free.

I’d healed and was very comfortably me.

It didn’t take long y’all, and we were hitched.

We’re a little ranchy – so from time to time you may see or hear about the goings on, ranchy analogies and what-nots.

But the application I teach can be applied to your fairytale setting too, whatever it may be.

My fairytale looks a lot like a modern day western … horses, cows, goats and dogs, 4 wheel drive pickup trucks, even a wild hog.

It’s really pretty wonderful.

But not too long ago my fairytale looked more like this – still ranchy but …

… there was a King, a Villain, an Evil Stepmother and the realization that who I believed, at the time, to be Prince Charming, wasn’t.

And the not-Prince Charming??

They were all driving the train that crashed right smack into the tower I’d been Rapunzel’d™ in.

Had it not, though, I’d probably still be … Rapunzel’d™.

I remember growing up, when I was wrong about something or made a mistake trying to help, the King would pat me on the head and say – “It’s ok, princess.”

It made me feel so stupid and belittled to the point of feeling worthless.

I grew to absolutely detest any reference to “Princess.”

I was fully aware of the disdain I had for the reference, the reaction it evoked, all of it – long before I understood why it mattered as much as it did.

That’s when I began to see the tower walls very clearly.

But I thought it was because of that relationship.

As it turned out, though, that was just one room, not the whole tower.

Then out of nowhere, I was blindsided by an epic trainwreck™ that destroyed my fairytale and the tower I was Rapunzel’d™ in right along with it.

In the midst of the trainwreck, I felt something I had never felt before – free.

I was free.

I picked the pieces of me out of the rubble of my crumbled tower and the wreckage of the epic trainwreck I’d somehow managed to survive, untangled the barbwire from my hair – and for the first time, standing outside of the whole mess, I could see everything.

The whole tower. Every room.

The not-Prince Charming room – the one I’d first recognized.

The King – his room came into focus now. The earliest conditioning. The “it’s ok princess” that had been building a wall around me long before I had any framework to see it.

The Villain – his room was the scariest, built on years of genuine fear. Walls that became my normal, so familiar they’d stopped feeling like walls entirely and started feeling like just … life.

The Evil Stepmother – her room visible now too, built by lies, manipulation, gaslighting – now in full view.

Same tower. I just couldn’t see all of the rooms from inside any single one.

It was all very overwhelming, and the only way I knew to cope was creatively – so I started working on a storyboard. I called it A Fairytale Trainwreck™.

This is where I further developed the Rapunzel’d™ concept and named The Anti-Princess™.

I quantified the epic-ness of my particular trainwreck, picked it apart, analyzed and named the characters, what I hadn’t seen before – fully acknowledging what was right in front of me now, and began dealing with the pain, the hurt and figuring out who was left in the rubble of my crumbled tower and wreckage of the epic trainwreck™ I’d somehow managed to survive.

It was a compilation of both sides of my brain – I guess like everything else, it was driven by creativity, with a very analytical OS .

The tower. The trainwreck. My desperate want for healing and transformation.

The conductors. The rooms.

Taking the pen and writing my own happily ever after, in a whole new fairytale™.

All of it came out of that storyboard.

A Fairytale Trainwreck™ to Once Upon a Trainwreck™ and A Whole New Fairytale™.

I’ve been developing all of this for years – with my initial beginnings of recognition of having been Rapunzel’d™, then under the rubble and the wreckage.

Everything I’ve designed and teach here is built the same way – conceptualize, outline, embody and apply to life – transforming, and continue writing.

Always from the inside out.

From lived experience, not borrowed theory.

I had wished upon many stars for my own happily ever after, but I really didn’t think it was going to be part of my whole new fairytale.

I had no idea the next chapter would include a real Prince Charming plot twist –

He showed up out of nowhere, when I wasn’t even looking, in his black cowboy hat .

One day, there he was – and I was ready.

My tower had crumbled. I’d been set free.

I’d healed and was very comfortably me.

It didn’t take long y’all, and we were hitched.

If you haven’t noticed yet, we’re a little ranchy – so you may see or hear about the goings on, or ranchy analogies and what-nots from time to time. Every day we get to observe in awe the intricacies and perfection of what God created.

As humans it can be difficult to see it in ourselves – but watching a young horse get the zoomies, or a mama cow take care of her calf, or when a big goofy bloodhound kisses you on the nose as if to say “thank you” or “I love you too” – it’s pretty amazing.

The gratitude we experience for every egg the chickens and ducks lay, for the rain that makes the grass grow for the cows, horses and goats — even though it makes a muddy, mucky mess. We’re thankful for every life born or hatched on our little piece of heaven, even for the ones who don’t stay very long before heading back.

Living ranchy teaches us to see the balance between the good, bad, ugly and beautiful – and that there’s always something to be thankful for.

I’ve always been an enigma. A contradiction. Puzzling, somewhat mysterious, and very difficult for others to understand.

I have a particularly-peculiar mind – which, although, I believe it to be a blessing, at times it felt like a curse, only because I didn’t understand it.

Now I see it as one of my “superpowers”: my imagination, my abstract-creativity, my ability to dream beyond what most people consider to be reality.

I remember telling the King about one of my big dreams, he told me I needed to “be more realistic”. I’ve carried that with me my entire life.

My reality is beyond the narrative’s “realistic”, beyond what the narrative considers to be “normal.”

But then again – realistic is relative.

So to me, it’s just my reality.

Growing up, I loved (fundamental) science and math, the equations and formulas derived from both, which totally contradicted my abstract-creativity.

I’ve had very strange strange experiences, as far back as I can remember. As a child I had no context for them. I didn’t understand why I not only saw things differently but experienced things differently, why I experienced things other kids, then other adults thought were so bizarre, an “un-realistic” that I had to be “making them up” – it wasn’t until I began to poke around in the realm of Quantum Physics and Dimensions of Consciousness when it all finally started to make sense.

It was like I’d been going through life, turning door knobs until one door finally opened.

When I started down that line of study, things got pretty wild – in every dimension.

I’m thankful that I’m different, for being unique – for my particulary-peculiar mind and my sometimes opposite, contradicting and ironic tendencies. I’m thankful for my abstract creativity and pov, which allows me to think – and believe – beyond the world’s constructs, and beyond the physically quantifiable application of Fundamental Science.

I’ve never wanted to be normal. I really don’t think I’ve ever been considered “normal” by anyone who’s known me.

Growing up with such a peculiar mind was very difficult. Being an adult with such a peculiar mind was difficult. Seeing things differently, understanding things differently – it was like I was always seeing something more than what everyone else was seeing.

Most people didn’t understand me. But then, at the time, I didn’t fully understand me either.

It wasn’t until I dove head first into the Quantum realm, that the functionality of my mind started to make sense. Not the woo you’ll find underlying many “personal development” … programs, but the real foundation of Quantum Transcendence as it applies to Identity and Transformation.

I took the Quantum Mechanics of (human) Identity, deconstructing it to find the “how”, then applying it, as the “operating system”, for the framework and foundation of my development of the Quantum Architecture of Identity™.

The more I learned, the more I understood about what I’d been experiencing, the more free I felt and the more open my consciousness became.

And I finally stopped apologizing for it.

The not-normal, never-boring, abstractly-creative, particularly-peculiar mind and very different way of being.

It’s that mind that built this.

I’ve always been an enigma. A contradiction. Puzzling, somewhat mysterious, and very difficult for others to understand.

I have a particularly-peculiar mind – which, although, I believe it to be a blessing, at times it felt like a curse, only because I didn’t understand it.

Now I see it as one of my “superpowers”: my imagination, my abstract-creativity, my ability to dream beyond what most people consider to be reality.

I remember telling the King about one of my big dreams, he told me I needed to “be more realistic”. I’ve carried that with me my entire life.

My reality is beyond the narrative’s “realistic”, beyond what the narrative considers to be “normal.”

But then again – realistic is relative.

So to me, it’s just my reality.

Growing up, I loved (fundamental) science and math, the equations and formulas derived from both, which totally contradicted my abstract-creativity.

It was like I’d been going through life, turning door knobs until one door finally opened.

When I started down that line of study, things got pretty wild – in every dimension.

I’ve never wanted to be normal. I really don’t think I’ve ever been considered “normal” by anyone who’s known me.

Most people didn’t understand me. But then, at the time, I didn’t fully understand me either.

The more I learned, the more I understood about what I’d been experiencing, the more free I felt and the more open my consciousness became.

And I finally stopped apologizing for it.

The not-normal, never-boring, abstractly-creative, particularly-peculiar mind and very different way of being.

It’s that mind that built this.

I chose this photo on purpose.

It’s not polished.

No hair and makeup.

It’s not posed.

There’s no carefully arranged backdrop – it’s me being bombarded by goats because I made the mistake of opening Christmas pretzels while they were in the vicinity .

It’s real. It’s imperfect.

That’s what makes it beautiful.

I grew up believing I had to be perfect.

That I had to look perfect – that leaving the house without a fully done hair and makeup was just not something a girl did; it was not acceptable.

All I ever wanted, growing up, was to fit in.

I never did.

Ever.

I believed my body and the platinum blondness of my hair defined my value.

That I had to be validated by men, in order to be of any worth.

All of which turned out to be symptoms of a much bigger issue – one I didn’t fully understand until everything fell apart in the epic trainwreck and the crumbling of my tower.

That’s when I finally saw, not just the rooms, but the roots:

The need for validation.

Value being determined by appearance.

The constant striving for perfection.

Feeling as if I’d been playing roles cast by others for my entire life.

Chasing love.

When I started studying identity and really diving into the research, I recognized I wasn’t the only woman dealing with this.

And I decided I was going to do something about it.

To help women challenge everything the world has ever told us about who we’re supposed to be.

Challenging perfection, beauty, worth.

Challenging the social narrative.

When I was finally set free, in the midst of the epic trainwreck then the crumbling of my tower – there was no more chasing perfection.

No more chasing validation.

No more chasing love.

Just learning to love and accept myself, after figuring out who that actually was.

Imperfection is beauty. Real is beautiful. Authentic is beautiful. Human is beautiful.

The Princess has to be perfect.

The Anti-Princess™ gets to be real – and being real is better than any performance.

I chose this photo on purpose.

It’s not polished.

No hair and makeup.

It’s not posed.

There’s no carefully arranged backdrop – it’s me being bombarded by goats because I made the mistake of opening Christmas pretzels while they were in the vicinity .

It’s real. It’s imperfect.

That’s what makes it beautiful.

I grew up believing I had to be perfect.

That I had to look perfect – that leaving the house without a fully done hair and makeup was just not something a girl did; it was not acceptable.

All I ever wanted, growing up, was to fit in.

I never did.

Ever.

I believed my body and the platinum blondness of my hair defined my value.

That I had to be validated by men, in order to be of any worth.

All of which turned out to be symptoms of a much bigger issue – one I didn’t fully understand until everything fell apart in the epic trainwreck and the crumbling of my tower.

That’s when I finally saw, not just the rooms, but the roots:

The need for validation.

Value being determined by appearance.

The constant striving for perfection.

Feeling as if I’d been playing roles cast by others for my entire life.

Chasing love.

When I started studying identity and really diving into the research, I recognized I wasn’t the only woman dealing with this.

And I decided I was going to do something about it.

To help women challenge everything the world has ever told us about who we’re supposed to be.

Challenging perfection, beauty, worth.

Challenging the social narrative.

When I was finally set free, in the midst of the epic trainwreck then the crumbling of my tower – there was no more chasing perfection.

No more chasing validation.

No more chasing love.

Just learning to love and accept myself, after figuring out who that actually was.

Imperfection is beauty. Real is beautiful. Authentic is beautiful. Human is beautiful.

The Princess has to be perfect.

The Anti-Princess™ gets to be real – and being real is better than any performance.

I’m a bit of a mad-genius. It’s taken a while to where I feel comfortable saying that out loud.

I realize there may be some confusion – or wonder – as to what qualifies this country bumpkin to teach the Quantum Mechanics of Identity, or speak on Dimensions of Consciousness, Time and Space, Timelines, Time Collapses and Alternate Realities.

Here’s the honest answer –

I love the science, I love the physics.

I detest the woo-woo, as much as a “pat on the head, Princess”.

There’s no reality in the woo, the fluff – it lies to women who are desperately seeking help, who want to improve their lives; it gives them false hope in smoke, mirrors and the Universe.

The reality is in the actual science, it’s quantifiable.

The Quantum physics. The mathematical equations.

The provable, measurable data.

I love equations.

Translating words and theories into equations – finding the underlying structure of things – that’s where my peculiar mind lives.

Half of it is abstractly creative. The other half is analysis – science, physics and math.

I believe that genius sometimes gets misidentified as madness – because the people watching don’t understand the genius.

A good chunk of society has become numb, following “that’s how it’s always been done,” and genuinely can’t see – or never learned to process – a perspective that’s completely different from the one they’ve been handed, the one perpetuated by the world and the social narrative.

The mad-genius, the creativity, the imagination – these were things I was made to feel shameful about for a long time, because other people didn’t understand.

I remember the King telling me once that I needed to be more realistic.

If I could tell him now: I was being realistic. It was just my realistic – not his.

Realistic is relative …

Someone else told me that if I conformed to their ways I’d be accepted.

I didn’t.

Someone else told me – after I said I didn’t care what anyone thought – that I needed to.

Nope.

Instead of being ashamed of any of it, I’m proud of it now. I fully embrace it.

The madness is the genius. And the genius built this.

I’m a bit of a mad-genius. It’s taken a while to where I feel comfortable saying that out loud.

Here’s the honest answer –

I love the science, I love the physics.

I detest the woo-woo, as much as a “pat on the head, Princess”.

There’s no reality in the woo, the fluff – it lies to women who are desperately seeking help, who want to improve their lives; it gives them false hope in smoke, mirrors and the Universe.

The reality is in the actual science, it’s quantifiable.

The Quantum physics. The mathematical equations.

The provable, measurable data.

I love equations.

Translating words and theories into equations – finding the underlying structure of things – that’s where my peculiar mind lives.

Half of it is abstractly creative. The other half is science, physics and math.

I believe that genius sometimes gets misidentified as madness – because the people watching don’t understand the genius.

The mad-genius, the creativity, the imagination – these were things I was made to feel shameful about for a long time, because other people didn’t understand.

I remember the King telling me once that I needed to be more realistic.

If I could tell him now: I was being realistic. It was just my realistic – not his.

Realistic is relative …

Someone else told me that if I conformed to their ways I’d be accepted.

I didn’t.

Someone else told me – after I said I didn’t care what anyone thought – that I needed to.

Nope.

Instead of being ashamed of any of it, I’m proud of it now. I fully embrace it.

The madness is the genius. And the genius built this.

My curiosity tends to cause a ruckus.

I ask a lot of questions.

I want to understand how things work – how they really work, underneath the surface, outside of the narrative, at the root.

And when the “how things work” part doesn’t add up, I’ve learned that in most cases it’s not because I don’t understand.

It’s because something’s wrong – conceptually, theoretically, scientifically.

That’s when I get on the cow’s nose about it.

In my world when dogs are working cows, sorting some, trying to cut one out or move them here or there, you’ll get one that won’t “do”. So the dog or dogs will have to make them.

On the cows nose is a term used when the dog won’t let up on the cow until it “does”.

That tenacity, that “won’t let go until I have the actual answer” determination – that’s what I bring to everything I study.

I dive into research, to prove or disprove, dismantle or totally deconstruct the topic or theory, when necessary.

I don’t let go until it either holds up or falls apart.

This is not just for my benefit of understanding, but for y’alls too – to challenge all of the nonsense, and the “koolaid”.

When I was little I had a book called The Way Things Work. I think, in a sense, it contributed to my programming – the want to understand how things are put together and how to take them apart.

I used to be made to feel ashamed of it.

Ashamed of asking too many questions – questions period.

I was expected to just accept what I was told, and when I challenged that, it became a problem.

I’m not ashamed of it anymore, it’s actually something I’m very proud of.

There’s a lot of gaslighting in the social narrative – especially in the “personal development” and “coaching space” …

If you take a step back the way I did, you start to see that things just don’t add up.

The narrative doesn’t fit the truth.

And when I get the koolaid-y skin crawls – I dig in.

In digging in, disproving a few mainstream theories and calling out the koolaid, I pretty effectively upended my relationship with the “coaching industry”, hence my rebellion and re-inventing of the wheel.

This is when I coined the term “Curious Disruptor” after realizing my curiosity wasn’t just a quirk …

… it’s a super-power – activated by a genuinely necessary, very ruckus causing rebellion.

One thing I want to be clear about –

I’m a teacher, and I’m a coach – now by my own definition and design, from an abstract pov. The Anti-Princess™ pov. I’ve been through several certification programs, I know the industry from the inside – and what you’ll find here is what I built after essentially rebelling against all of it.

My curiosity tends to cause a ruckus.

I ask a lot of questions.

I want to understand how things work – how they really work, underneath the surface, outside of the narrative, at the root.

And when the “how things work” part doesn’t add up, I’ve learned that in most cases it’s not because I don’t understand.

It’s because something’s wrong – conceptually, theoretically, scientifically.

That’s when I get on the cow’s nose about it.

In my world when dogs are working cows, sorting some, trying to cut one out or move them here or there, you’ll get one that won’t “do”. So the dog or dogs will have to make them.

On the cows nose is a term used when the dog won’t let up on the cow until it “does”.

That tenacity, that “won’t let go until I have the actual answer” determination – that’s what I bring to everything I study.

I dive into research, to prove or disprove, dismantle or totally deconstruct the topic or theory, when necessary.

I don’t let go until it either holds up or falls apart.

This is not just for my benefit of understanding, but for y’alls too – to challenge all of the nonsense, and the “koolaid”.

When I was little I had a book called The Way Things Work. I think, in a sense, it contributed to my programming – the want to understand how things are put together and how to take them apart.

I used to be made to feel ashamed of it.

Ashamed of asking too many questions – questions period.

I was expected to just accept what I was told, and when I challenged that, it became a problem.

I’m not ashamed of it anymore, it’s actually something I’m very proud of.

There’s a lot of gaslighting in the social narrative – especially in the “personal development” and “coaching space” …

If you take a step back the way I did, you start to see that things just don’t add up.

The narrative doesn’t fit the truth.

And when I get the koolaid-y skin crawls – I dig in.

This is when I coined the term “Curious Disruptor” after realizing my curiosity wasn’t just a quirk …

… it’s a super-power – activated by a genuinely necessary, very ruckus causing rebellion.

One thing I want to be clear about –