People often ask me how Worthy Wands began. They expect a story about jewelry. About manufacturing. About years of planning. About starting a brand.

The truth is, it began with a conversation. One day my inner child said, “Anchor yourself.”

I remember answering, “I don’t have one of those.” Without hesitation she replied, “Create one.”

I knew exactly what she meant, not because I was living it, but because I wasn’t. I had spent years abandoning myself for everyone else. I knew how to care for people. I knew how to anticipate their needs, hold space, and become indispensable. What I didn’t know was how to stay with myself.

At the time, I believed I had an overgiving problem. Looking back now, I can see that overgiving wasn’t the wound. It was the strategy. The wound was self-abandonment.

So I asked myself a different question. If I could carry one reminder of the truth I kept leaving behind, what would it say?

The answer came immediately. Two words.

Worthy. Enough.

I stamped those two words into a necklace, not because they sounded beautiful, but because they were the words shame had never allowed me to fully claim.

That necklace became my first anchor. Not because my worth lived in it, but because it helped me stop looking for my worth everywhere else.

What I couldn’t see at the time was that I wasn’t just creating a necklace. I was responding to the first instruction of my life’s work.

Over the years, women began sharing stories with me. They wore their necklaces to chemotherapy appointments, into courtrooms, through divorces, job interviews, hospital waiting rooms, and moments when they felt themselves slipping back into old patterns. Some reached for them before difficult conversations. Others held them in silence when words were no longer enough.

As I listened, something became unmistakably clear.

They weren’t reaching for jewelry. They were reaching for remembrance.

That realization changed everything.

For a long time, I believed I was building a jewelry company. Looking back now, I understand I was building a language. A language for the moments we forget who we are.

The Evolution

A decade later, I wrote You Are the Anchor because I finally understood there was a sequence.

The necklace had always been a reminder, but I had come to understand that remembrance is more than a moment. It is a practice.

I saw that we don’t lose ourselves all at once. We leave ourselves slowly, through the small moments we choose someone else’s expectations over our own truth, someone else’s comfort over our own knowing, someone else’s voice over our own.

I also discovered that we return in much the same way. One conscious choice at a time.

That is what the word ANCHOR came to mean for me.

Not an object. A way of coming home. A way of ending the endless rowing. A way of returning to myself whenever I noticed I had drifted.

Looking back, I can see that the jewelry became the first language my philosophy learned to speak. The book gave that philosophy another language, and The Anchor Method continues the conversation by offering a way to live it.

They were never separate ideas. They were always different expressions of the same return.

Worthy Wands Today

Today, Worthy Wands is still exactly what it has always been.

A physical reminder. A quiet interruption. An invitation to pause before the old pattern takes over.

Not because a necklace or bracelet has the power to change your life, but because sometimes the smallest reminder arrives at exactly the moment you are about to leave yourself again.

And sometimes that one moment changes everything.