I was visiting with a client the other day, and something she said really struck me. She mentioned coming from a family where her dad had done well in his career, and with that came certain expectations—maintaining appearances, presenting a specific image.

As she spoke, I couldn’t help but think of my own experience growing up. My parents also did well; my mom owned her own public relations business. I was so proud of her, especially sinceI didn’t know any other kids whose moms ran their own companies. This was the mid-1980s, not a lot of the other moms worked outside the home.

For years, I had cute outfits with matching tops with pants or shorts, and separate school and play clothes. But one experience in ninth grade shifted everything for me. My mom handed me the usual blank check to get my hair highlighted. But instead of the expected highlights, I came home with deep red hair.

That was the first time I remember being so aware of how concerned my mom was with what others would think of me— and how it might would reflect poorly on her and her business. It wasn’t the first time she’d commented on my appearance—suggesting I stand up straighter or suck in my stomach—but this time felt different.

When I went to college, there was immense pressure to choose an “acceptable” career. It felt like the height of those expectations: get into a respectable field, land a good job, make everyone in my proud. But I wonder, how many opportunities did I pass up because I was more focused on what others would think rather than what truly lit me up? How often did I hold back out of fear of judgment or disappointing my parents—or, worse, my grandparents?

Even now, I wonder what my grandparents would think of what I’m doing. My great-grandmother, who lived with us, would likely be proud and intrigued by my journey. (she was the one person who loved my red hair.) But I imagine my grandparents might see it differently—perhaps even believing I was dabbling in the occult. And honestly, maybe I am. Following the moon cycles and leaning into this path has made me feel more alive and in tune than ever before.

So, I invite you to tap into your own story. What expectations have you felt grateful to shed? And which ones still linger, making you more cautious because you fear what others might think or say?