Why I Made Queens of Coin.
If you've spent even a hot minute online, you've seen the same messages echo across every corner of business content:
“Hustle harder.”
“Grind now, rest later.”
“Give more, more, more.”
And then, in a perfectly filtered square right below it:
“Slow mornings.”
“Aligned launches.”
“Let it be easy.✨”
Two opposing ideologies.
Same intensity.
Different branding.
And honestly? I think they’re both lying to us.
Because neither story tells the whole story.
One sells exhaustion. The other sells escapism.
Both are still performance.
Hustle culture taught us that our worth was directly linked to our output — that the more we produced, the more we mattered. And the soft life movement? It often ends up just being burnout recovery dressed in beige with a side of lemon water and aesthetic surrender.
We’re being pulled between two extremes:
Work until you collapse
Or float into abundance with one viral quote and a manifesting playlist
But what about the space in between?
What if real sustainability — real clarity, even — doesn’t live at either end of the spectrum?
What if the messy middle is where the truth actually lives?
I call this space - the intentional middle.
It’s the place I finally landed after swinging from over-functioning hustle to performative softness and back again.
3 questions to ask Before You Start something new.
If you’re about to start something new — a project, a service, a launch, a full-on business — I want to offer you three questions that now guide everything I build.
These are the questions I ask before I pour time, energy, and money into something that might be rooted more in fear than clarity.
they’ve saved me from burnout.
They’ve saved my nervous system.
They’ve saved my calendar, my wallet, and my work.
And they might just do the same for you.
#1. Why am I rushing this?
This is the question that stops me in my tracks. Every. Single. Time.
Because rushing is a nervous system response. It feels like clarity, but most of the time it’s just panic in a productivity costume.
I’ve rushed into launches I didn’t love.
I’ve built offers I couldn’t even explain — just because I saw someone else selling theirs with confidence.
I’ve said yes to timelines, tools, and tactics that didn’t feel like mine — because I felt behind. Or too late. Or invisible.
But urgency is sneaky. It mimics momentum. It pretends to be vision. And when we don’t pause to question it, we hand over the steering wheel of our work to someone else’s timeline — someone who might not even have our best interests in mind.
Now, before I start anything new, I check in with myself:
Is this pace mine?
Is this timeline real, or am I borrowing it from someone else’s content?
What would I do if I believed I had nothing to prove?
Sometimes the answer still leads to a sprint.
But now it’s my sprint — not a panic run fueled by scarcity.
#2. What do I actually want out of this?
Not what would look good.
Not what would be strategic.
Not what would impress my peers, or make my old boss proud, or fit neatly on a sales page.
What do I, the human behind the screen, actually want from this?
That question used to scare me. Because the truth was… I didn’t always know. I was so used to building in reaction — to burnout, to algorithms, to bills, to social proof — that I forgot how to build with desire.
And when I did know what I wanted, I was scared to say it out loud.
I thought my reasons had to be noble. Or scalable. Or spiritual. I thought I had to say I wanted “impact” when really, I wanted enough income to feel safe. I thought I had to say “freedom” when actually, I wanted consistency and clarity and a calendar that didn’t make me vomit.
Now? I let honesty lead.
What do I want from this offer, project, idea?
Time back?
Revenue that matches my effort?
A proof of concept?
Confidence?
A body of work I’m proud of?
Clarity doesn’t always come from strategy. Sometimes it comes from naming our truth — even when the truth is a bummer.
#3. Is this aligned — or just aesthetic?
Here’s where I get real with myself.
Because aesthetics can lie. They can sell us ideas that look peaceful, but are actually rooted in the same grind we were trying to escape.
I’ve created offers that looked “soft” — with slower delivery, aligned language, beautiful branding — but underneath? I was still spiraling about conversions. Still over-delivering. Still collapsing in private.
Softness isn’t a design choice.
It’s a systems choice.
If I’m building something that doesn’t include room for rest, room for grief, room for being a whole person — it doesn’t matter how beautiful the branding is. It’s just another trap.
So I ask:
Does this business include space for me to be?
Is my pricing sustainable, or am I building resentment into my revenue?
Do I want to maintain this for years — or am I just trying to prove something?
That’s what “alignment” means to me now. Not just doing what feels good — but doing what feels possible over time.
The most sustainable business is the one you don’t have to recover from.
And if my business doesn’t include systems for rest, realignment, and re-evaluation — then I’m not building freedom. I’m building another version of burnout.
The middle is the real mVP
The hardest part about finding your pace is trusting it — especially when it looks different from what’s trending.
I used to think I had two options:
Hustle hard to stay visible
Or soften completely and risk being seen as lazy or “unserious”
But both extremes still centered on someone else’s approval.
Neither one taught me how to listen to myself.
Now?
I know what my hustle feels like.
I know when to pause.
I know when I’m spiraling, and when I’m ready.
I know how to build with urgency that’s mine, not borrowed.
Rest is not a reward for doing everything right.
Rest is part of the system.
And hustle? It’s just a tool — not a personality.
I want that for you.
You don't have to earn softness through suffering.
I kept telling myself that if I just pushed harder I'd finally earn the right to slow down, but that magical finish line never came.
Hustling without direction is pointless. Might as well do nothing.
Why I Made Queens of Coin
These are the exact questions that led me to build Queens of Coin — because pricing is often the first place we lie to ourselves.
We say we’re being “accessible,” but really, we’re afraid.
We say we want “ease,” but we build urgency and undercharge just to feel safe.
We say we’re creating sustainability — but our calendars still scream panic.
Queens of Coin isn’t just about raising your rates. It’s about:
Understanding what your price is actually saying — to your audience and to your nervous system
Uncovering the emotional patterns behind your pricing: fear of rejection, guilt, performance, scarcity
Seeing where you’re pricing to protect yourself from failure, criticism, or burnout
Clarifying if your pricing reflects your current values — or an outdated identity
Auditing the energetic cost of your delivery, not just the time it takes
Naming whether your prices are designed for your dream clients — or your imagined critics
Your price isn’t just a number. It’s a signal. It’s a story. And it’s a boundary.
This diagnostic helps you:
See your pricing clearly — emotionally, strategically, and energetically
Reconnect with what you actually want to be paid, and why
Shift from panic pricing to honest pricing — the kind you can sustain, deliver, and feel proud of
This is not about charging more for the sake of it.
It’s about charging truthfully — with full clarity on what it costs you, and what it gives you in return.
If you’re ready to take a step back, get honest about what you actually need, and build a business that works for you — Queens of Coin is exactly where you need to start.