Why I'm Only Taking 6–10 Women in My First Coaching Cohort

There is a version of launching something new that says you should make it look as established as possible. Polish every edge. Have every answer. Fill every seat. That isn't what I want for my first coaching cohort.

I'm intentionally keeping the first My Era cohort to 6–10 women because I want the experience to be personal, participatory, and honest. This first group isn't walking into something that has been repeated dozens of times. They are coming into My Era early, when there is still room to influence how the experience takes shape. For the right woman, I think that's part of what makes this first cohort special.

Small Enough to Actually Know Who Is in the Room

My Era is built around a question that sounds simple but can take some time to answer: Who are you now? Not who have you always been. Not who does everyone else need you to be. Not what should you accomplish next. Who are you, now?

That isn't a question I want women answering anonymously in a crowded room. With 6–10 women, there is room for me to know who is there. There is room for you to speak without feeling like you're competing for airtime. There is room for a conversation to go somewhere unexpected because something someone said deserves another minute. The size is intentional because being witnessed matters here.

Why I'm Keeping My First Coaching Cohort Small

I also want to be transparent about what "first cohort" means. My Era has a clear philosophy and structure. The work moves through Recognize, Clarify, Design, and ultimately Live. We begin with identity because I don't believe another list of goals is particularly useful if you haven't stopped to consider whether those goals still belong to you.

But this is also the first group going through the experience together. I'm not pretending that doesn't matter. There may be a question that lands differently than I expected. A practice may need more time. A conversation might reveal something the original structure didn't account for. I want to be able to notice those things and respond to them.

The women in this cohort aren't responsible for building My Era for me. But their experience will absolutely help me make it better. I see that as a strength, not something to hide behind polished launch language.

There Is Something Different About Being Early

Being early isn't for everyone. Some people would rather join after something has been refined, repeated, and proven over time. That is completely reasonable, and there will be opportunities for that. But some women like being in the room before everything is set in stone. They like being able to say, "This part really mattered," or "I wanted more time here," and know someone is listening. They value access over polish.

And maybe there is something fitting about beginning My Era this way. The entire premise is that your life doesn't need to follow a predetermined template. You can recognize who you have become, get clearer about what fits now, and begin to design a life that fits that woman. It would feel strange to launch that work as though I already knew exactly how every woman's experience should unfold.

If You've Been Sitting With the Decision

Maybe you saw the first cohort announcement and thought, That sounds like me. And then you kept scrolling. Maybe you've returned to it mentally a few times since. The hesitation could be about time, money, vulnerability, the group itself, or simply the discomfort of choosing something specifically for yourself. You don't need to turn that hesitation into a problem or rush yourself through it. Instead, get curious about it.

Ask yourself: What part of this am I drawn to? What part of this am I resisting? Don't immediately argue with either answer. Just notice them. Sometimes clarity doesn't come from forcing yourself into a yes or a no. It comes from understanding what each response is trying to tell you.

Why 6–10 Women Feels Right

I don't want this first cohort to be big. I want to know the women in it. I want enough perspectives in the room that you can hear something in another woman's experience and suddenly have language for your own. I also want it small enough that you don't disappear into the group.

Most of all, I want to create the kind of space where you don't need to arrive knowing exactly what comes next. You can arrive with the quieter recognition that something has shifted. That the life you've built may still be good, while parts of it no longer fit quite the way they once did. That you're curious about the woman you've become.