Start something. Get excited. Hit a wall. Quit. Feel terrible. Swear next time will be different. Start again. Same wall. Same quit. Same shame.
Sound familiar? Good. Keep reading.
I was the hardest worker in every room. Prayer every morning. Every book on the shelf, every seminar with a sign-up sheet, every coach who promised they had the answer. I spent money I didn't have on programs that were supposed to fix me.
And for a little while, they'd work. I'd feel the spark. I'd get momentum. I'd think "this is it — this time is different."
Then the wall. Same wall. Every time. Like clockwork.
Over $630,000 in debt. Marriage falling apart. Kids paying the price for a mother who was drowning and couldn't figure out why.
It didn't happen in a seminar. It didn't happen in a church pew. It happened in a quiet moment when I finally asked the right question.
Not "What's wrong with me?" — I'd been asking that one for 30 years and it never led anywhere.
The question was: "What if there's nothing wrong with me — and something wrong with what I was taught to believe about myself?"
That question changed everything.
Because once I started looking — really looking — I found them. Lies. Installed before I was old enough to fight back. "You could have tried harder." "You're not smart enough." "People like you don't get to have that kind of life." Programming so deep I couldn't tell the difference between the lies and my own voice anymore.
Once I could see them, I could change them. And once I changed them — the debt went. The marriage shifted. The cycle broke. Not because I tried harder. Because I stopped running someone else's program.
1974. Vo-Tech. Three years learning computers when the machine was the size of a large bathroom. I graduated in 1976 with a D average — not because I couldn't do the work, but because nobody ever told me I should try.
My computer teacher gave me a C my senior year. When I asked why, he said: "You could have tried harder."
That moment stuck. Not the grade — the question underneath it. Why do some people push through and others quit? What's the difference between the person who builds the life they want and the one who keeps sabotaging it? What was running inside of me that nobody — including me — could see?
That question became a 52-year obsession. I just didn't know yet that the answer would also become my life's work.
Not to impress you. Not to build credibility. Not to convince you I've got it all figured out.
I'm telling you because you are living in a version of the same story right now.
Maybe it's not $630,000 in debt. Maybe it's something quieter. A career you're settling for. A relationship where you've stopped showing up. A dream you've talked yourself out of so many times you've convinced yourself it was never realistic in the first place.
And underneath all of it — a voice. Your voice, but not really your voice. The one that says "who do you think you are?" or "that's never going to happen for someone like you" or "just be grateful for what you have and stop wanting more."
That voice isn't yours. It was installed. And it can be removed.
Left high school with a D average and a question that wouldn't leave me alone: Why does the mind work the way it does?
Started attending events that taught me something I didn't know I needed: forgiveness. My heart went from hating people to loving them — and wanting to see them love themselves. I learned I wasn't stupid. I could learn. I could love. Eleven years of training that didn't feel like training — it felt like someone finally turned the lights on in a room I'd been stumbling around in my whole life.
Paid off over $630,000 in debt in five years. Moved from sales into Sales Manager, Director of Sales & Client Care, then Director of Coaching. Not because I suddenly got smarter. Because the programming that had been keeping me stuck was finally gone.
The company changed ownership. But as I kept coaching people through the transition, I realized something had shifted in me. Decades of working on my self-talk — spinning negative to constructive, over and over — had finally taken root. The lies that had run my life were completely gone. Not from one event. From years of consistent rewiring. And now I could see those same lies in other people with a clarity I couldn't explain.
Eight assessment tools. Built from the real language of real clients — not textbook theory. A system that identifies the exact programming running someone's life and gives them a path to replace it with truth.
The flood that devastated my town almost took me and my husband with it. When the water receded, the only thing left was clarity: this work cannot wait. People are running out of time they don't know they're wasting.
She died suddenly. Gloria was the woman who taught me what unconditional love looks like. Losing her didn't break me — it lit a fire. Because not everyone had a Gloria. And the people who didn't are the ones who need this work the most.
Building a community. Training leaders. Passing forward what was given to me — to people who never got it the first time.
My grandmother Vera was abandoned by her husband with five kids to raise alone. She worked to feed them. She had every reason to become bitter, to shut down, to pass that bitterness on to her children.
She chose love instead.
My mother Gloria carried that forward. Purely other-centered. Grateful. Present. She gave me something most people never get — a model of what it looks like when someone believes in you without conditions. No strings. No performance requirements. Just love.
Not everyone gets a Gloria.
That's the whole point of this work.
I take what I received and pass it to people who never got it. Single moms with no support system. Leaders who keep sabotaging themselves. People who've been told their whole lives they're too much, not enough, or broken beyond repair.
They're not broken. They're programmed. And programming can be changed.
I don't use clinical jargon. I don't diagnose you. I don't talk about "trauma responses" or "emotional dysregulation" or any of the words that make people feel like something is medically wrong with them.
I call it what it is: self-sabotage programming. Lies you internalized. Patterns running on autopilot. And a system to find them, name them, and replace them with truth.
The assessments show you what you can't see. The coaching helps you pull it out. The community keeps you accountable while you build a new foundation.
And here's the part nobody else will tell you: this takes time. The clients who transformed their lives — the ones you read about on this site — they didn't do it in 6 weeks. They stuck with it for years. Because you can't undo decades of programming in a weekend workshop.
But the change is permanent. It's not a motivational high that wears off on the drive home. It's a new foundation. And once it's built, you don't have to keep fighting to hold onto it.
"After working with Diane, it felt like a new foundation was built versus feeling like I was constantly having to fight to hold onto progress." — Jordan