Mote Advisory Group

I serve as a strategic thought partner for business owners who need help turning ideas, challenges, and growth opportunities into clear plans and sustainable ex*****on.

The Resiliency Plan is evolving. As our work has expanded, our consulting and advisory services are now operating under Mote Advisory Group.

One of the things I’ve been working on lately has been building an operating system for a business.

What surprised me wasn’t the technology.

It was realizing that after more than thirty years in hospitality and operations, I was using many of the same principles I’ve relied on my entire career.

Good organizations don’t depend on one person remembering everything. They build systems that preserve knowledge, support decision-making, and allow people to succeed.

One of the biggest lessons I learned was that architecture matters. Starting with a strong framework saves time, creates consistency, and allows organizations to grow more intentionally.

I think that applies just as much to nonprofits and families as it does to businesses.

At The Resiliency Plan, resilience has never been viewed as simply “pushing through.”

Real resilience is often operational.

It’s communication.
Adaptability.
Leadership.
Structure.
Community.
Healthy systems.
And learning how to continue building during uncertain seasons.

Over the years, TRP has evolved through lived experience across hospitality leadership, nonprofit work, organizational operations, military family life, advocacy, and community-building across multiple environments.

The mission continues to evolve alongside the experiences shaping it.

Because resilience is rarely built in theory alone.
Most often, it’s built in real life.

I’m 48 years old, and I’m still learning something about myself that I’ve carried my entire life:

I have a lot of energy.
I get excited.
I connect things quickly.
And sometimes… I say too much, too soon.

For a long time, I believed that meant something was wrong with me.

I was told growing up—directly and indirectly—that my excitement was “too much.”
So I didn’t learn how to pace it.
I learned how to question it.

That turned into years of asking myself:
Am I normal?
Why do I think like this?
Why can’t I just talk like other people?
Why do I leave conversations feeling like I need to disappear?

And the hardest part wasn’t the moment of oversharing.
It was what came after.

That drop into:
“I’m too much.”
“I don’t belong.”
“I wish I wouldn’t even open my mouth.”

But here’s what I’m starting to understand now:

Nothing is “wrong” with me.
What I have is a high-activation system.

I think fast.
I feel deeply.
I move toward possibility quickly.

That’s not chaos.
That’s energy that was never taught how to be paced.

So instead of learning:
“How do I express this in the right amount?”

I learned:
“Maybe I shouldn’t express this at all.”

And that belief followed me into adulthood.

Now I’m doing something different.

I’m not trying to shut it down.
I’m learning how to hold it.

Because the truth is—my excitement is not the problem.

The only thing that needs adjusting is:
timing and volume.

Not everything needs to be shared all at once.
Not every moment needs the full story.

I can share it… just not all at once.

And I’m learning to ask myself in real time:
“Is this the right amount for this moment?”

That’s the shift.

Not perfection.
Not silence.
Not shrinking.

Just:
awareness → pause → adjust

And here’s something else I’ve learned along the way:

There are spaces where my energy doesn’t fit.
People who need everything calm, contained, and controlled.

In those places, I always felt like I didn’t belong.

But there are also spaces—and people—where:

Builders are creating something from nothing
Creatives are expressing ideas freely
Mission-driven communities are rooted in real life, not perfection
Self-aware people can hold energy without being overwhelmed by it

In those spaces, my excitement isn’t “too much.”

It’s momentum.
It’s connection.
It’s an asset.

Even there, I still need pacing.

But I don’t have to hide who I am.

And that’s the difference.

So if you’ve ever walked away from a conversation feeling like you said too much…

You’re not a bad person.
You didn’t break anything.
You’re not “too much.”

You just might not have been taught how to pace something that’s actually powerful.

I’m still learning.

But I’m not trying to become less of myself anymore.

I’m just learning how to express myself with intention.