My Journey to Magic
I didn’t set out to create a business. I set out to find myself again.
I grew up in a little Montana town with one blinking light.
No cable. No fast food. Just imagination, wildness, and a grandma who believed in magic. She’d write us these stories, Magic Mountain adventures for each grandchild, and I held on to mine like it was treasure.
But somewhere along the way, I started forgetting. I became the good girl. The high achiever. The peacemaker. The one who held it all together, no matter what it cost me.
I got married young. Had four babies. And found myself spiraling in anxiety, trying to be the perfect mom, wife, woman. I didn’t even know I had ADHD until I was an adult. I just thought I was too much. Too scattered. Too sensitive.
And when the weight of doing it all right finally became too heavy, I cracked. Not all at once. Slowly. Quietly. Until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
So I started studying, reading, getting certified—not to start a business, but to understand myself. To parent differently. To stop yelling. To feel safe in my own body.
That work became the beginning of everything.
Magic Inside wasn’t born out of strategy. It was born out of heartbreak, devotion, and remembering.
I’ve had my accounts hacked, my work stolen, my trust broken. I’ve built things from scratch more times than I can count. But I’ve also seen what happens when a child finally feels understood. When a mother remembers she’s enough. When a woman stops apologizing for her softness.
And that’s why I keep going.
Because I believe the world doesn’t need more perfection. It needs more presence. More permission. More people who remember the magic inside.
