What I Couldn't See for Almost 10 Years
It’s been a minute since I last posted a blog. Not because I ran out of things to say—but because I finally had to listen to myself.
For twenty years, I ran my handbag business with a clear north star: my own voice. When vendors pushed back, I held my ground. When people at trade shows said "these are different" (sometimes approvingly, sometimes not), I smiled. Different was the point.
I designed lightweight, functional, sophisticated bags because that's what I wanted and couldn't find. I drove my factory a little mad with revisions on each style until I knew in my bones it was right. And you know what? I built a loyal customer base of women who'd been searching for exactly that. I never backed down from my principles—not on design, not on materials, not on service.
If you asked anyone who knows me, they'd say: "Yeah, that's Paige. Doing her thing, her way."
But when I launched my coaching business about ten years ago, something shifted. I thought: I know product-based business, but service-based? Better let the experts guide me.
So I did. I followed the formulas. I joined the big coaching programs. I modeled my marketing after people who seemed to have it figured out. One program leader literally shamed those of us who questioned her methods—proclaiming that there were no “unique snowflakes” so we’d better fall in line with her system.
And every time I tried to do it "their way," I felt that quiet cringe inside. I made adjustments, but the cringe never fully went away.
Here's what I couldn't see for almost a decade: I never let my coaching business be Paige the way my handbag business was.
My website copy never felt quite right. My messaging felt forced. I struggled to explain my work to people who didn't already know me. No wonder I wasn't very visible—I was out of alignment with my own foundation.
The lightning bolt came five months ago during a conversation about Human Design. Turns out my profile (Projector) is only 20% of the population. Most of the advice I'd been following was designed by and for people wired completely differently than me. I'd spent nearly ten years trying to force a square peg into a round hole.
Once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it.
So I went quiet. I tore down the parts that weren't working and started rebuilding—this time, with my own voice leading.
It's vulnerable to admit publicly that I let other people's strategies become more important than my own inner knowing—the same voice that guides every coaching session, every client breakthrough, every handbag design. But I'm at peace with it. I had to go through this to get here. And now? I won't make that mistake again.
I'm glad to be back. And I'm excited about what's next—I'll be diving into change itself: why we resist it, why it's inevitable, and how we can actually learn to befriend it.
But before I close, I want to ask you something. Because if this story landed at all, maybe it's because you recognize a piece of it in your own life:
What's one thing you've been doing someone else's way that's never quite felt like you?
I'd love to hear—leave a comment or reach out. And if you're navigating your own version of this and want support, that's exactly what I help people with.