I was standing in the driveway of a beautiful waterfront Airbnb in Piermont, New York, watching a construction crew lay flooring in the master bedroom of the house where nine women were about to arrive for my mastermind retreat. The beds were in the living room. The house hadn’t been cleaned. The heat and hot […]

I was standing in the driveway of a beautiful waterfront Airbnb in Piermont, New York, watching a construction crew lay flooring in the master bedroom of the house where nine women were about to arrive for my mastermind retreat. The beds were in the living room. The house hadn’t been cleaned. The heat and hot water wouldn’t work that night. Oh, and it would soon be 35 degrees outside.
This was the disaster that kicked off the best retreat I’ve ever run.
And honestly, I think that’s a more accurate picture of where I am right now than the highlight reel I almost posted on Instagram instead. Two months ago, on March 3rd, I announced publicly that I’m building toward $100K cash months. I’ve done $100K months before, pre-kids. I have $4M+ in sales since 2017. I know how to do this.
What I didn’t fully realize when I announced it, is how different building it again, as a mom of twin two-year-olds, working 25 to 30 hours a week, would actually feel.
So here’s the real update. Highs, lows, and the thing I burned in a fire pit at the end of that retreat that I think changed everything.
Within a week of announcing the goal, I made hires I should have made months ago.
I got Facebook ads running. I built out new backend systems. I had Nicole Nieves of The Brand Vibe come into my retreat and teach my clients how to build a business brain in Claude (I’ll never look at AI the same way again).
I made my signature program, The Distinctive Edge, evergreen and signed 9 women into it in the first wave, bringing in an extra $34,500. I launched a low-ticket sprint that 37 people are inside of right now. I planned and hosted a retreat with 100% attendance for the first time ever.
That’s the post I could have made. The “look at me crushing it” post. The one that would have made me feel cool and impressive and like I had it all figured out.
I almost did. And then I realized that’s exactly the version of me I’m trying to let go of.
Here’s what was actually happening underneath all of that.
I spent 2-3 weeks in a real mindset spiral. I started questioning my skills. My worthiness. Whether I could actually sustain a $100K cash month business now, with two toddlers at home, with 25 to 30 hours a week, with rehearsals for Fiddler on the Roof (I’m playing Tzeitel) eating up another 8 hours.
Normally when I want something, I look for evidence it will work out. That’s just how I’m wired. I’m a generator. I see the goal, I move toward it, I find every reason it’s already happening.
But during this spiral, I caught myself doing the opposite. I was looking for evidence that this wouldn’t work. Reasons I should wait. “I’ll start when they’re five.” “It’s too much right now.” “Maybe this isn’t the season.”
That’s not me. That’s the version of me that’s scared of what people think. And the worst part: I knew where it was coming from.
It was the pressure I had put on myself to hit this fast, to look impressive, to prove I still had it. The audience pressure I keep saying I’m above—and clearly am not—because every time I made another piece of content for the $100K cash month series, I felt that little internal flinch.
“How many times can I say I’m doing this thing?” “Am I boring people?” “Am I far enough along yet?”
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At the retreat, there was a moment that cracked me open the same way it cracked open every woman in that room.
We did a fire pit ritual at the end. We wrote down what we were letting go of, what we were burning. Most of the women wrote about visibility blocks, comparison to past success, the version of themselves they were holding onto from before kids or before a major life shift.
I wrote 3 things on my paper:
I burned all three. 🔥
Because here’s what I finally clocked:
I have been calling this season a “rebuild” because it felt good to say, “Hey, I’ve done this before. Remember, pay attention to me. I’m cool. I’ve hit it.” That’s my ego voice. She’s like a Valley girl and she’s annoying and she’s fickle. And she has been quietly sabotaging the whole thing.
I’m not rebuilding. I’m building. As a mom. Now.
…with this version of my business, this version of my life, this version of my body, this version of my time. Past Megan hit $100K months. Cool. She’s not the one doing this. Present Megan is. And present Megan has never built a business at this exact intersection of mom-of-twins, married, in a community theater show, running a mastermind, a signature program, a low-ticket offer, two podcasts, and 25 to 30 working hours a week.
This is day one. It’s a build.
I am not lowering the goal. I want to be crystal clear about that.
I still want my first $100K cash month this quarter, and I have things in motion that make that very possible. I just don’t think I’ll hit it consistently until next year. And I’m not saying that because I’m taking my foot off the gas. I’m saying it because it’s realistic, and I’d rather build a business that compounds than one that breaks me.
Burning the plan didn’t mean abandoning strategy. I have a strategy. I’m executing it. What I burned was my attachment to the plan being the only way this could happen.
There might be a new offer I haven’t dreamed up yet that comes to me in May. There might be a speaking opportunity. There might be an affiliateship. There might be a collaboration that grows my list faster than ads ever will. (Side note: I have friends who don’t post on social media at all and grow entirely from collaborations. It’s wild.)
If I’m so white-knuckled on my original plan that I can’t see what’s right in front of me, I miss it. And I think a lot of women rebuilding their businesses, sorry, building, are doing exactly that.
The strategy is the map. The plan is just my favorite route on the map. There are other routes.
The other thing I refuse to do? Half-ass this season with my boys.
They’re two years and four months old. They’re twins. They’re at this age where every word is new, every personality trait is unfolding, every tantrum (looking at you, Aiden, my little drama king) is its own short film. I will not look back on this stage of their lives and realize I was technically there but mentally checked out, thinking about sales, thinking about how I’m being perceived, thinking about a goal that, honestly, my family doesn’t even need.
The thing I caught myself doing during the spiral wasn’t working more hours. It was working the same hours but with a buzzing, distracted, urgent brain. That carried into the time I was with them. That’s the part I’m cutting out.
So here’s the standard I’m holding myself to: I will not put out okay podcast episodes. I will not put out okay posts. I will not coach my clients at okay. I refuse. And I will not be okay with my boys. I’d rather take something off my plate than do any of it half-way. I work out. I sleep. I eat. I want to read my fantasy book again (it’s been a minute, I had to memorize Fiddler lines this weekend). I want to be in the room when I’m in the room.
That’s the actual goal. The $100K cash months are downstream of that.
The hours are real, but the hours aren’t actually the hardest part. The mental load is. Pre-kids, you can spiral on a Wednesday and lose a few hours to it. Post-kids, that same spiral steals time from your business and your presence at home, because the work has to get squeezed somewhere. Building post-kids means getting brutally honest about what stays, what goes, and what you refuse to half-ass.
Yes, but probably not on the timeline you had pre-kids. I’d rather build something that compounds and sustains than rush something that breaks me by month four. The math works when your offer is dialed, your positioning is sharp, and your systems can hold weight without you in every conversation. That’s what I’m building toward right now.
Name it out loud. Comparing yourself to past you is still comparison, and it’s the sneakiest kind because it feels productive. Past you was building a different business in a different season with different inputs. Present you is starting day one with a stronger foundation, more skill, and more clarity. That’s an advantage, not a deficit, if you stop using past you as the benchmark.
Stop creating from inside the spiral. The posts you write when you’re spiraling sound exactly like a spiral, and your audience can feel it. Take 48 hours. Talk to someone who can reflect you back to yourself (an NLP coach, a trusted friend, a peer in the trenches). Write down what you’re actually trying to prove, to whom, and ask if any of it is true. Then go execute.
If you’re in your own version of this season, building (not rebuilding), trying to scale a business that fits the life you have now, not the life you had before, the next step isn’t a tactic. It’s getting your positioning so clear that you stop competing with the other ten coaches in your niche and start being the only obvious choice for the people you’re meant to work with.
That’s the work I do inside The Distinctive Edge.
It’s the program that took me from being one of many to having a signature offer my clients sell out, an edge they can repeat in their sleep, and messaging that pulls in the right buyers without grinding on Instagram every day. It’s the program that made my evergreen launch possible in the first place. And it’s where I’d take any coach who’s done the surface-level positioning work and is ready to actually build a business that compounds.
If you’re not there yet, message me after you’ve listened to a few episodes of Main Character Energy and tell me what’s clicking. That’s the actual loop I want to be in!