Mindy Amita Aisling

Mindy Amita Aisling Coach + Creative | ICF Certified. I help humans live and share their stories. I feel the most alive and authentic when I am helping people succeed.
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Coaching for clarity within, marketing for expression beyond - where soul meets strategy, and creativity fuels growth. My mission is to support others to courageously reach their goals while creating more ease, flow & peace in their lives. Through coaching, marketing & branding, small business support services, or fitness training - I love helping people thrive in their life and work. When I witness the people I work with smiling more, meeting their goals, building their businesses, or aligning with who they truly are... it fills me up and I feel like I am bubbling over with jubilation. I am passionate about the human experience, authenticity, communication (both interpersonal & as it relates to marketing), conflict resolution, small business success, entrepreneurship, nature, stewardship for our planet.. and most of all: kindness. I am an ICF Certified Life & Leadership Coach, a Licensed Mediator, an NFPT Fitness Trainer, and an Entrepreneurial Maven. (I also have a brilliant ADHD brain that allows me to joyfully & effectively dedicate my heart and passion to a variety of areas that all share the same niche: helping others succeed)

If you find yourself needing a little extra support in your life or business right now, please reach out to me. I would love to support you. It's what I'm here (on this planet) to do. ❤️

12/03/2025

🤦‍♀️

Every time I sit down to create content for a client, I’m thinking about ethics first. Not “How do we push this product?...
12/02/2025

Every time I sit down to create content for a client, I’m thinking about ethics first. Not “How do we push this product?” but “How do we tell the truth beautifully?”

Ethical marketing is my love language.
It’s transparent.
It’s human.
It respects your nervous system.
It honors the customer’s intelligence.
It builds trust—not pressure.

UGC is one of my favorite tools because it’s inherently human. It shows real hands, real experiences, real reasons someone might fall in love with a product or brand. It’s marketing that looks like a conversation, not a performance.

If you want marketing rooted in consent, clarity, honesty, and actual connection, DM ETHICAL and I’ll send you my current UGC + content packages.

I recently read Want, the collection curated by Gillian Anderson, and I’m honestly a little wrecked in the best way. Pag...
12/01/2025

I recently read Want, the collection curated by Gillian Anderson, and I’m honestly a little wrecked in the best way. Page after page of women, from all over the world, naming their desire in their own words… not for the male gaze, not as a performance, but as a living, breathing part of their humanity. It felt like sitting in a dark room lit only by candles, listening to women tell the truth about their bodies, their fantasies, their disappointments, their hunger, their longing. No neat moral, no shame-filter, just raw, complicated, gorgeous wanting.

What hit me the hardest was how rarely we’re invited to witness this. Not “jokes about s*x,” not clickbait, not sanitized “self-care,” but the actual inner lives of women and our s*xual selves. Reading it, I could feel something unclench in my own system, like, Right. I’m not weird. I’m not broken. I’m not alone. Desire isn’t just about s*x, it’s about aliveness. It’s about who we let ourselves be when nobody is grading us.

And then there’s Gillian Anderson herself. I have loved this woman my entire life. Watching her age, take up space, own her intelligence, her sensuality, her weirdness, her power—it has mattered to me more than she will ever know. She’s been a quiet, steady lighthouse in the background of my becoming. The teenage me who watched her on screen and the grown-up me who’s reading her projects now both feel the same thing: gratitude that this is one of the women I got to look up to.

I’m so thankful this book exists. For the writers who bared their stories. For the reminder that women’s desire is not a problem to be solved, but a language we’ve barely been allowed to speak. And for Gillian Anderson, who has been walking ahead of me on the path my whole life, showing me that you can be thoughtful, messy, curious, s*xy, aging, and utterly yourself—and that all of that is not only allowed, it’s sacred.

11/30/2025

Being a content creator is like… 10% posting and 90% internal negotiation.

People think the hard part is writing the caption, filming the video, or figuring out the hook. And sure, that takes energy. But honestly? The real work is the conversation happening inside your head before you hit “share.”

It’s the voice that says, “This isn’t good enough.”
“It’s been done before.”
“People will be annoyed.”
“You’re too much.”
“You’re not enough.”

Every time you post anyway in the face of that noise, you’re doing something so much bigger than feeding the algorithm. You’re retraining your brain. You’re teaching yourself:

I can show up imperfectly.
My best is enough for today.
I don’t have to wait until I feel flawless to be worth seeing.

We talk a lot about reach and views and engagement, but the most important metric you’ll ever build is your internal permission to exist in public as yourself. To speak. To be seen. To let your work be “in progress” and still worthy of daylight.

Yes, strategy matters. Yes, timing and hooks and sound trends can help. But underneath all of that is a quieter, braver practice: choosing, over and over again, to show up even when your self-doubt is screaming.

That’s not just content.
That’s nervous system rewiring.
That’s self-trust being built in real time.

The algorithm is fickle.
Your relationship with your own voice is not.

11/29/2025

One of my least favorite things about being both autistic and ADHD is this constant tug-of-war between my brain and my nervous system.

My ADHD is like,
“Let’s go out! Let’s see people! Let’s do ALL THE THINGS. Game night? Live music? Road trip? Farmer’s market? YES.”

And my autistic nervous system is like,
“Babe… if we leave the house more than twice this week, I will spontaneously combust.”

I genuinely want to go out and have fun. I want to say yes to every invite, meet all the humans, explore all the places, soak up every experience. I get excited. I plan outfits. I picture myself laughing in a cozy bar somewhere like a very functional adult.

But the truth is:

I get overwhelmed easily.
I struggle with transitions.
When my routine gets disrupted too much, everything feels wobbly.

Even “good” things — a dinner out, a party, a fun event — are still a lot of sensory input, social decoding, noise, unpredictability, time shifts. My brain is like “fun!” and my body is like “this is a full-scale operation and we will require three business days to recover.”

So in order to stay regulated, I actually can’t go out very often.
I have to be picky. I have to be intentional. I have to say no to things I genuinely want to do, just to protect the fragile ecosystem that is my nervous system.

And that’s hard.
It can feel like I’m always disappointing someone — including myself.

But I’m slowly learning that this isn’t me being flaky or boring.
It’s me honoring the reality of how my brain and body work.

I can want the fun and need the quiet.
I can love people and limit my exposure to chaos.
I can be a “yes” person at heart who lives in a “careful, gentle, regulated” body.

Both are true.
And honestly, the more I respect that truth, the better everything else in my life feels.

11/29/2025

Let’s talk about radical responsibility — of yourself.

I’ve decided to take full autonomy for this expression called “Mindy.” This particular human. This particular nervous system. This one wild, weird, tender life. That means nobody else gets to tell me how I “should” think, how I “should” feel, how I “should” act, or how I “should” live. People can have opinions. Culture can have scripts. Family can have expectations. Religion, capitalism, algorithms — they all have their little pamphlets of “how to be.” But at the end of the day, I am the one who has to live inside this body and this brain.

Radical responsibility, for me, doesn’t mean blaming myself for everything that’s ever happened. It doesn’t mean grinding harder, “fixing” myself, or pretending I’m an island. It means I trust myself enough to be the final authority on me. I get to decide what I value. I get to decide what I believe. I get to choose what I participate in and what I walk away from. I get to listen to my own inner guidance system and say, “Actually, that doesn’t work for me,” even if everyone else is doing it.

Taking responsibility for myself is the opposite of surrendering my life to “shoulds.” It’s me saying: if this is my one shot at being this version of a human, I’m going to show up for it fully. I’m going to make choices that are aligned with my truth, and I’m going to own the consequences of those choices — the beautiful ones and the messy ones.

No one else gets to drive this thing. You can ride shotgun if it’s safe and kind and aligned… but the wheel is mine.

Nobody really prepares you for how much “growing up” is actually “unlearning.”So much of what I thought was my personali...
11/28/2025

Nobody really prepares you for how much “growing up” is actually “unlearning.”

So much of what I thought was my personality was just… my survival system. Things I picked up as a kid to make it through rooms that were too loud, too chaotic, too grown for a little nervous system that never really got to rest.

I thought being low-maintenance and easygoing made me “good.”
I thought being endlessly useful made me lovable.
I thought never needing help made me strong.
I thought keeping the peace mattered more than telling the truth.

Those beliefs worked once. They kept me safe. They helped me read the room, stay ahead of chaos, earn approval, avoid conflict. Little me was brilliant, honestly. She built a whole operating system out of whatever scraps of safety she could find.

But adult me?
Adult me was exhausted.
Adult me could feel the cost of always being understanding, always being flexible, always holding it together while my insides were quietly fraying.

Updating these beliefs hasn’t been a cute little mindset shift. It’s been grief work. It’s been sitting with the version of me who thought she had to disappear to be safe and telling her:

You get to want things.
You get to rest.
You get to be seen.
You get to disappoint people who preferred you small.

The wildest part is realizing nothing was ever “wrong” with me. I wasn’t overly sensitive, too dramatic, or needy. I was adapting. I was surviving.

Now I’m choosing something different.
Not because the old beliefs were bad, but because they’re too small for the life I’m building now.

Growing up, for me, is less about becoming someone new and more about finally becoming someone true. 💗

11/28/2025

Sometimes I catch myself thinking my brilliance lives in my hyperfocus... Those days when my brain locks onto an idea and I disappear into it for hours… building, writing, creating, solving, obsessing in the best possible way. It feels like a superpower. Like, this is why I’m good at what I do. This is why I can build whole projects from scratch and pull magic out of my own skull.

But if I’m really honest, hyperfocus isn’t what keeps me in the game. It’s what gets me big bursts of progress. It’s what makes people say, “Wow, how did you do all that?”

But the thing that actually keeps me going long-term? = Self-compassion.

Self-compassion is what holds me when the hyperfocus fades and I’m left in the boring middle.
It’s what shows up when I forget things, miss a deadline, melt down, or need three days of quiet to recover from “just one event.”

It’s what lets me say, “Okay, that wasn’t ideal… but we’re still worthy, still capable, still allowed to try again.”

Hyperfocus builds the cool, shiny stuff people can see. Self-compassion is the reason I don’t quit when my nervous system crashes, my executive function bails, or my brain suddenly thinks I’m a useless disaster.

My real brilliance isn’t just in how intensely I can work. It’s in how gently I’m learning to treat myself when I can’t.

This year stretched me in ways I didn’t see coming. I cracked open in spots I didn’t know could ache, and I healed in pl...
11/27/2025

This year stretched me in ways I didn’t see coming. I cracked open in spots I didn’t know could ache, and I healed in places I didn’t even know were wounded. I laughed in these tiny, ridiculous, holy moments. I found micro-joys in the mess, in the quiet, in the parts of life no one else notices. I learned from the painful moments that dropped me straight to my knees. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real, and it was mine.

And today, I stand here grateful for all of it.
Today, I give thanks.

Things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving: My husband. My son. My Dad. My Mary. My Community. My Home. My cats Ruxin, J...
11/27/2025

Things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving: My husband. My son. My Dad. My Mary. My Community. My Home. My cats Ruxin, Jackie and Ackbar. My Business. Work I love. Healthy Food. My Body. The privilege of aging. Early mornings with tea. Sunrise. Face yoga in the bathroom mirror. My sacred Sunday planning nights. My garden. Snow. My weighted blanket and cheesy holiday movies. Clients who let me see their tender, unpolished parts. The people who read my words and feel less alone. My autistic, ADHD brain that notices everything and refuses to be average. The fact that I survived domestic violence. The fact that I survived the car crash. The way my marriage feels like a root system. Long talks on the porch when the sky goes pink. Music that makes my whole body feel like a yes. Books that blew my life open. My nervous system finally learning what safety feels like. The weird, wild privilege of getting to reinvent my life this many times and still be here, heart open. 💗🙏

11/26/2025

“Why do you always talk about healing? Can’t you just enjoy life?”

I get versions of this question a lot, and here’s the honest answer:
Healing is how I enjoy my life. It’s literally how I found my joy.

I grew up with trauma, poverty, masking, people-pleasing, and a nervous system that was constantly on high alert. For a long time, “life” didn’t feel enjoyable—it felt like survival. Healing is what helped me experience things like safety, rest, real connection, and actual self-trust for the first time. It’s what lets me enjoy a quiet morning, a silly conversation, a good meal, a walk outside without dissociating, bracing, or spiraling afterward. Healing isn’t me obsessing over what’s wrong; it’s me finally making enough space inside myself to feel what’s right.

And there’s another piece: personal growth, emotional healing, understanding how humans work—that is my autistic special interest. My brain LOVES this stuff. I genuinely enjoy thinking about it, learning about it, and talking about it the way some people love sports or cars or skincare. So when you hear me talking about healing all the time, it’s not because I’m incapable of joy. It’s because this is one of the primary ways I experience joy: by understanding myself more deeply, breaking old patterns, and creating a life that actually fits the shape of who I am. For me, healing and enjoyment aren’t opposites. Healing is the bridge that got me here.

I will never get over the magic of this work. I sit here with my laptop, my tea, my messy notes, and what I’m really doi...
11/25/2025

I will never get over the magic of this work. I sit here with my laptop, my tea, my messy notes, and what I’m really doing is translation—turning someone’s heart, values, story, and offer into words and visuals their ideal people can actually feel.

That’s what I love about UGC and social media marketing. It’s not just content—it’s little emotional bridges. It’s helping someone scrolling by pause for half a second and think, Oh… that’s for me.

If you’re a small business, brand, or founder who knows your work matters but struggles to show that online in a way that feels authentic, that’s where I come in.

🎥 UGC videos
📸 Scroll-stopping photos
✍️ Soulful, strategic copy

DM STORY and I’ll send you my packages.

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