Somewhere Between a Psychic, a Sabbatical, and the Start of Something New
Letting Go of Old Habits, Following the Fun, and the Unexpected Path to Reinvention
(🎧 Prefer to listen? You can hear the audio version of this post here.)
I once paid a psychic to tell me my future—fully aware that predicting the future is, at best, wildly optimistic and, at worst, total nonsense. And yet, there I was, willingly handing over my money, sitting across from a woman on my Zoom screen who was about to tell me my fate.
She didn’t give me a prophecy—she gave me the title of a book she had never read. But the title? It was so dead-on that it became my mantra for the next two years:
What Got You Here Won’t Get You There. (Have you read it? I still have not, lol, but I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!)
The thing is, she was completely right. At that moment in my life, I didn’t feel the need to read the book either—because the title alone summed up what I was living (apologies to the author, reflecting on this now is inspiring me to finally read it). I was in a season of reinvention—not because of a rock-bottom moment, not because life had imploded, but because I knew something had to shift if I wanted to keep growing.
I had stepped back from running Brenne Whisky full-time and was like a newborn giraffe on wobbly legs, trying to learn how to be in the uncertainty of a much-needed sabbatical. I had just turned 40 and had been working steadily since I was 14 (technically 9, thanks to my first professional ballet contract). Understandably, I didn’t know how to properly restore myself in a way that would actually repair the deep burnout I was experiencing, especially after building an international business from scratch and carrying it through a global pandemic.
That’s when I found solace in this episode of Glennon Doyle’s We Can Do Hard Things podcast. They talked about how self-care is not a bubble bath and a shaman-blessed crystal (contrary to what the wellness industry might have us believe). Instead, self-care is understanding your values as they are today, setting healthy boundaries, and learning the values and boundaries of your loved ones (especially those you live with). To that, I’d add: knowing who you are in the absence of titles is also crucial.
So, I did what any rational person would do: I got a sabbatical mentor (three, actually).
That first year, I focused on my bucket list. Step 1: make a bucket list. Step 2: talk through that bucket list with my mentor. There is something about saying your dreams out loud to someone who doesn’t call them crazy that shifts your mindset. What happened next surprised me to no end. Without publishing the list or sharing it beyond my mentors and husband, invitations started flowing in as if the universe had turned on a faucet called "Allison’s Dreams." Wild things—like swimming with bioluminescent phytoplankton in Colombia and, weeks later, going on safaris in Kenya and Zimbabwe. Spending personal time with elephants, giraffes, rhinos, and the veterinarians who care for them was a genuine childhood dream—down to the veterinarians! I even climbed Machu Picchu that same year. These were experiences I had long brushed off with "maybe one day" or "what ‘normal’ person can afford that?" The crazy thing was, I had never actually priced anything out or really looked at how much time some of these trips would take.
Doing them—being in these ancient, wild, magical places—was the stuff living is made of. My senses were on fire as I spent a year+ experiencing daily awe.
Every time I got antsy about whether I should be working again, my mentors would gently (and sometimes not so gently) remind me: My only 'job' during that time was to follow the fun. Be present. See what happens.
After a year of working with these incredible mentors, I realized something: my life had been filled with color, new experiences, laughter that lingered—no ROI conversations, no product roadmaps. Just deep connection, unbridled joy, and freedom.
Still, when I thought about returning to work, I felt heavy. I feared slipping back into the habits I knew—the ways I’d worked before. I didn’t want to recreate the same cycles of burnout. So instead of reading that book (though now I kind of want to!), I held onto the title like a mantra and used it again to guide my next step: onboarding a new coach.
(One who also happens to be a psychic. Apparently, I have a type.)
This is where the real work began.
I wanted to bring the fun, flowy, free-feeling version of myself into whatever I was going to create next. For most of my adult life, “work” meant effort. Hard. Heavy. Something I gave my all to, at nearly any cost. It was the starving artist mindset—ingrained in me from my days as a ballerina. That mindset had gotten me here. But it wouldn’t get me there.
As adults, if we’re courageous enough, there’s a lot of “un-layering” work we have to do. We strip away stories, beliefs, and so-called expertise—some of which once served us, but no longer align. This might sound fluffy. It’s not. It’s hard. Often, we uncover embarrassment, discomfort, even shame. I know I have.
One thing I’ve learned in that process: to always thank my old ways of being. I honor them and acknowledge how they protected and served me. Then, I invite them to sit beside me—not to run the show, but to advise when needed. They’re part of me. They just don’t get the mic anymore.
After nearly a year of doing this inner work, I woke up one Saturday in November and felt it in my bones—I was ready to build something again.
Excitedly, I turned to my husband and exclaimed, “I’m ready to work again!!!”
He smiled and said, “Excellent! Do you know what it is you want to do?”
I did not.
But I knew with whom I wanted to create. I knew I wanted it to be something special. Something good. Something kind to humans. Something fun—because we all need that.
Luckily for me, she shared the same values—and had an idea.
I can’t wait to share it with you, hopefully sometime in 2025!
To Be Continued...
This all resonated so much for me. Also even as a medium who sometimes gets asked to do psychic readings, I largely share you sentiments, though I think they can be a way to show you that your life and spiritual needs are seen from some bigger source and there can be a lot of reassurance in that. But with so many things in life it really is a matter of dose and with this work a little — like the title of a book that ends up resonating plucked out of the cosmic ether — often goes a long way.
Love this so much!