The Scene: The Descent and the Lab

Two years ago, I was laid off.

It wasn’t unexpected — and yet, the finality of the moment still stunned me. It was like the universe had closed a door I was too tired and too loyal to shut myself.

That final Zoom call was the death of the identity I had meticulously cultivated in corporate consulting, the title that made my Dominican mother proud, the salary that helped keep my independence afloat.

But beneath that well-tailored exterior, I had already started to shift.

The cracks were showing — in my energy, my sense of belonging, my ability to pretend. And so, when the rug was pulled out from under me, I didn’t scramble to crawl back.

Instead, I entered the wild lab of reinvention.

At great financial risk and at the cost of ease and adventure, I hunkered down in what I call my “mad scientist lab” — my home office — and began deconstructing every part of myself.

Not just professionally, but spiritually, emotionally, and creatively. That’s where Queen Mindset Leadership™ was born — not as a logo or a brand, but as a way of life.

Those first two years were brutal in the ways no Instagram quote really captures. Slower than I imagined. Less supported than I hoped. Not as financially fruitful as I thought I could withstand.

I fell on my face — repeatedly. And I questioned it all. Should I go back? Should I re-enter corporate? Should I shrink this dream down into something more manageable, more marketable, more palatable?

But something in me said: no, not yet.

The Wisdom: The Pros, Cons, and Chaos of Passion

Here’s the thing no one tells you enough about the “follow your passion” path: it is chaotic. Not whimsical chaos. It’s the kind of beautiful, sacred disarray that tests every part of who you thought you were.

Yes, I considered going back to corporate — and if you’re reading this and weighing that same choice, I see you. There is no shame in craving stability. A steady paycheck, clear roles, and even the sense of belonging that sometimes comes from a team culture — those things matter.

But for me, the cost of staying misaligned was too great.

Choosing entrepreneurship in this space of healing, leadership, coaching, and creativity meant navigating tremendous financial uncertainty, especially in the short term. It meant solo days. Scarcity mindsets.

A constant need to validate myself and re-convince myself that this is, in fact, working.

But it also meant creative sovereignty. Autonomy.

The freedom to build a brand that didn’t just reflect who I was — but who I was becoming.

Over time, the vision started to stabilize.

Not because the chaos disappeared, but because I learned how to stand rooted within it.

My creative awakening class now brings me to tears — not just because of the curriculum, but because of who I get to become while teaching it. The people I attract now aren’t just clients — they’re co-dreamers.

I’ve been creating so much lately — writing, teaching, channeling, building. Some of this content is already out there, and some is about to be revealed. And what’s blooming now is remarkable.

Not just in terms of well-being, creative flow, or the community I’ve grown — though those are everything — but slowly, steadily, financially too.

I’ve seen firsthand how entrepreneurship allows us to scale not just income but impact. It asks more of us, yes. But it also gives us more space to become.

The Embodiment: Rituals, Ancestors, and the Becoming

To stay grounded on this rollercoaster, I had to build systems that held me.

Before I left my job, I began forming small daily rituals — acts of devotion to my future self. Those rituals became lifelines. And now, they are sacred technologies in my business. They are how I remain rooted while life inevitably shakes.

• I do Morning Pages every day (just passed the one-year mark), letting my uncensored thoughts spill before the world gets to me.

• I meditate daily (day 500 is around the corner), even when it’s hard to sit still with myself.

• I walk daily, rain or shine, and use that time to commune with Spirit and nature.

• I practice holistic modalities that touch all my koshas — the five layers of being in yogic philosophy — from the physical to the bliss body.

• I listen to my body like never before. In return, it has given me enhanced intuition, radiant health, and deep, cosmic dreams where I sit with my ancestors and receive messages I then pour into my work.

This isn’t productivity porn. This is what it takes to move through grief, rebuild a life, and build a business that heals. These rituals didn’t save me from the chaos — they gave me strength within it.

And speaking of ancestors: my father’s life — and now, his death — ripple through everything I create.

His dream of being a doctor, his belief in my gifts, his unspoken griefs — they’re all braided into my brand.

When I show up in integrity, I carry his story, and the stories of those who came before me. I call it ancestral rebranding.

And soon, you’ll see it for yourself.

Because the new Dr. García Brands reveal is almost here.

What began in my bones and journals is now being brought to life visually — by a mujer who was first my friend, then my student, and now my brand designer.

The Designer Strategist and CEO of her firm Ruby Creative, Co, Ruby absolutely slayed this assignment.

She took what lives in my body and soul — my lineage, my legacy, my lessons — and translated it into color, symbol, and story.

The visual language of the brand holds every ancestor’s whisper, every heartbreak, every breakthrough.

It’s not just a rebrand. It’s a healing. A reclamation. A rising. Embodied reigning.

To you, the reader:

If you’re standing at a crossroads, unsure if you should go back or leap forward — know that both paths require courage. But only one will lead you back to yourself.

You don’t have to leap all at once. Start with the rituals. The walks. The pages. The silence.

Begin to trust that what wants to emerge from you is holy. You may feel chaotic, but you are not broken.

You are becoming.

And I’m cheering for you — from the other side of the fall.

Two years later, I’m still rising.

And so are you.