For most of my life, work was my compass. I began as a Wall Street analyst, then moved into senior roles in tech, space, and communications, and for years the route felt clear. I was good at it. I even loved it. Then, in my mid-fifties, the ground under me started to wobble. I was back at headquarters on yet another business trip, doing the job I had poured myself into for years. I could feel my commitment slipping. Still, I did what so many women are taught to do: smile, push through, and hold the whole thing together with sheer willpower.

At home, the terrain was getting rougher. A divorce. Teenagers who needed me at the precise moment I was least available. A mother who needed care. I was not falling apart, but only because I had become highly skilled at duct-taping myself together and pretending it was a well-engineered system.

One night at a team happy hour, while everyone played “three truths and a lie,” I slipped out to meet a friend for dinner. She and I had plenty to talk about. Then, somewhere between the entrée and what I hoped would be dessert, I passed out. Urgent care, blood pressure cuff, fluorescent lights. The diagnosis was almost comically simple. Stress and sky-high blood pressure. I was technically fine, but the message was unmistakable. Something had to change.

Naturally, I responded by… getting the same job somewhere else. And shockingly, the discomfort came with me. Wherever you go, there you are. Turns out the common denominator in all my jobs was me. I didn’t need a new company. I needed a new path. So, I started asking the questions we avoid until life refuses to let us skip them. What do I want this next chapter to feel like? What choices are truly mine? What am I ready to release? What am I brave enough to want?

And then something unexpected happened. Once I loosened my grip, I realized I had both hands free.

I was fortunate in many ways. I had income, a calmer home, a circle of wise women, access to information, and time to think. Even so, finding a new direction took work. I began to see I was walking a trail without a map. And once I understood that, I wanted to create something for every woman who finds herself standing in that same unmarked clearing.

I now know my story is wildly common. I’ve spoken to hundreds of women about the transitions that shape us. The moments when we look around and think, “Why does everyone else seem to have a guidebook?” These experiences shake us. They challenge who we think we are. And the older we get, the higher the stakes become. Health. Family. Work. Finances. Caregiving. Retirement. The quiet admission that what once lit us up, no longer does. We want clarity. Instead, we get twenty tabs open on our browser and whatever an algorithm thinks we should see.

That gap is where The Meraki Dignity Project began.

With my co-founders, we are building a private, supportive space that honors the dignity in every woman. A place where you can map your transitions, get personalized insights, find trusted resources, and connect with people who understand the terrain. A place that helps you make intentional choices about the life you want next. Our purpose is to offer a path toward Meraki, the experience of bringing your whole, luminous, complicated self into the world with creativity, soul, and love. To live with intention. To live a life that feels like your own.

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by Stephanie Georges
Co-Founder
The Meraki Dignity Project