It’s Time to Say Goodbye. (Wait, Please Don’t Cry.)

:: I’m not a dick. Spoiler alert—this has a happy ending, but please read, k? ::

When I started Shameless.ly nearly 7 years ago, I. had. no. idea. what. the. hell. I. was. doing. No seriously, guys — other than running my friendship bracelet side-hustle at the age of 6, I had never started any semblance of business.

Although, you’re talkin’ to the bracelet kingpin of Detroit.

But I didn’t start Shameless.ly because I wanted to be an entrepreneur (even though my fam is chock full of ’em), I started it because I had gone through some big frustrating life shit (bulimia, under-the-radar self-worth struggles, and some mega-blows to my ego) that I was crawling my way out of and I just wanted to make sense of all of it. I wanted to take what I experienced and give it meaning in some way, make it matter. Because the thought of going through all of that and it NOT having a purpose?! I would’ve lost my damn mind reconciling that.

And so I started this whole shebang, so that no other gal had to go through something heavy and feel alone or misunderstood or like a lost f#cking cause.

Even thought I didn’t know all the ten-million nuances of running a biz, I knew how to make people feel welcome, make them laugh, make them throw their guard down.

And so I built this business on three things:
My desire to turn my past experience into a salve for others
My ability to figure shit out (no matter how damn long it takes.)
And my humor

Because laughter opens people up and when you’re open, you’re willing to make changes that would otherwise cause massive resistance and a downright panic attack.

So I started designing—

  • Workshops and programs (aimed at rebuilding self-worth and -advocacy and -belief that you’re f#cking important and deserve a life that reflects that) that nearly NINE-THOUSAND WOMEN have gone through—which is BANANAS.
  • A mailing list of ~23,000 Women. Women who found this site and it spoke to them enough to trust me with their time and space in their inbox (two things I hold incredibly sacred).
  • A Facebook group of thousands of Women who give a shit about each other, root and rally for one another, who want to make things better in their heart and in their world.
  • This site. Yes, I designed most of this silly ass thing. For better or worse, if I believe I ‘can’ do something that I damn well should try. Thank you, YouTube photoshop tutorials. I HATE YOU AND ALSO LOVE YOU.

And guys—I’ve read your emails, I read all of them. I’ve read (and can hardly fathom) the ones that credit something I’ve said or created to healing some wounded part of you. And humility aside, that is the coolest f#cking feeling to ever experience.

But the truth is this: you guys have healed me.

Let me get sappy + super honest for a sec—

When I started Shameless.ly, I was 80% there (past some of the hugest hurdles, but still rebuilding the fractured parts of my life), but you, I swear, helped closed the damn circle. And a thousand thank yous barely scratches at how much that matters, how you’ve carried me forward into a life and a self that I really really like.

Which brings me to the whollllllle point of this post.

The Shameless.ly you know is shifting, well, has shifted.

If you’ve perused the site lately, you’ll notice, uhhh, SHIT HAS CHANGED. Where’s the self-love, Al?! And what’s with all this business strategy talk?! And why did you flip the switch on us like that?! WHO. THE. HELL. ARE. YOU?!

For the last 7 years you’ve known me as the SELF-LOVE MONSTER (ooooh! catchy title), but that’s only 1 part of my business OR me OR what I’ve been actually doing these last 7 years.

Because it’s about damn time I share the part of me and my world that’s gone virtually unseen (at least publicly) for the better part of a decade.

But because this post is already ten million miles long and has probably taken you a good 3 hours to get through, I’ll save that scoop for the next post called ‘FUN+STRATEGY+THE REAL ME, KIDS‘.

Stay tuned, friends.

I LOVE YOU X A MILL

Shamelessly by Allie LeFevere