There are moments in life that feel small when they happen—but echo for decades in the most unexpected ways.
When I was six years old, my family spent summers in Laconia, New Hampshire near the Weirs at Lake Winnipesaukee. My Great Uncle Kelly gave us a warning before we went into the water: watch out for snapping turtles.
Naturally, I stepped in anyway.
Within seconds, I felt something nipping at my ankles. Panic took over. I didn’t know how to swim—but in that instant, I learned. I dove, kicked, and somehow made it to a raft about 30 feet away. I scrambled up, heart racing, only to see my older sister laughing… snapping her fingers underwater to scare me.
That’s how I learned to swim.
Not through lessons. Not through logic. Through fear, instinct—and a push I didn’t expect.
And isn’t that how life often works?
Fast forward about 30 years.
By then, my life had taken many turns—from nursing to intuitive work, teaching, and working alongside law enforcement. One evening in a class, a student named David shared something that clearly weighed on him. He had given an international talk for a company listed in his family’s surgical supply catalog business and was paid only $200. You could feel it—this wasn’t really about the money. It was about feeling undervalued.
So instead of talking about negotiation or fairness in the usual sense, I invited him—and everyone in the room—to try something different.
I said, let’s step away from the idea that value only comes in dollars. Just for a moment. Close your eyes, take a breath, and imagine speaking directly to the person involved. Not with frustration, not with resentment, but from a place of calm clarity. Something like, I respect your time and what you do… and I would love for that same respect to be reflected back to me.
And then the important part—feel it. Not as a wish, but as something already true.
Because what I’ve learned over the years is this: it’s not the words we say that create change. It’s the emotional truth behind them. When you genuinely feel your own worth, without anger or proving, something shifts.
The next day, David called me—completely stunned.
Out of nowhere, the head of the company had contacted him. He apologized sincerely for what had happened and said it hadn’t sat right with him. Then he made an offer that none of us could have predicted: a fully hosted week on his private island—Beaver Island—with accommodations, staff, and space for family and friends.
And when David told me where it was, I just had to smile.
Right there on Lake Winnipesaukee.
The same place where, as a little girl, I had been startled into learning something I didn’t think I could do.
That week was beautiful beyond words. The home itself was extraordinary, with original works by one of my favorite artists Maxfield Parrish, lining the walls, the lake stretching out in every direction, and a quiet kind of magic in the air. But what stayed with me wasn’t the setting—it was the reminder.
Life has a way of bringing things full circle.
And more than that, it reflects back to us what we quietly believe about ourselves.
If you walk around holding resentment, even when it feels justified, it tends to keep you stuck in that same loop. But when you shift—when you soften just enough to acknowledge your own value without needing to fight for it—you open a very different kind of door.
So if you ever find yourself in a situation that feels unfair, try this in your own way. Pause for a moment. Breathe. Imagine the conversation you wish you could have, but let it come from respect instead of frustration.
Let yourself feel what it would be like to already be valued.
You don’t have to force anything. Just feel it.
Then go on with your day.
Because sometimes, what feels like a snap at your ankles is actually life nudging you forward.
And sometimes, when you truly recognize your own worth, what comes back isn’t just compensation—it’s something far more meaningful, and often, right where your story first began.
With love,
Me
