You're Not Behind.You're Using the Wrong Measuring Stick.
Kristen helps professional women identify the standard their circumstances handed them — and replace it with one they actually build themselves.
Ride on
Kristen helps professional women identify the standard their circumstances handed them — and replace it with one they actually build themselves.
Kristen J. Lloyd spent years watching the school bus go by from a dairy farm, teaching herself in a library with no map, and eventually making a rope dance — a skill she was told looked impossible. That journey from borrowed measuring stick to self-built standard is not a backstory. It is the exact mechanism she teaches, on keynote stages and in one-on-one coaching, to help professional women identify the standard holding them back and replace it with one they actually build themselves.
Every person who walks into her room is tangled in at least one of these. Most are carrying all three.
"My past is evidence of what I'm capable of."
Something in your history — a family system, an education, a room that dismissed you — handed you a verdict about your worth. You accepted it because you were too young to cross-examine it. Kristen went from fifth-grade dropout to college graduate by questioning the verdict, not by ignoring it.
"I'm measuring myself and I'm always behind."
The measuring stick you're using wasn't built from your own capabilities — it was handed to you by someone who was not measuring what you actually have. You are not behind. You are measuring with the wrong instrument.
"I'm waiting until I feel ready."
No credential, promotion, or external approval will satisfy a measuring stick that was never calibrated to you. The permission you are waiting for cannot come from outside — because the standard is borrowed. The rope teaches this more clearly than words can.
Stop measuring yourself by someone else's standard.
Every person in your room is carrying a measuring stick they didn't choose. Kristen names it out loud, shows — physically, with a rope — what it looks like to put it down, and sends every audience member home with a question they cannot stop asking: whose standard am I using?
No slide deck. No recycled inspiration. A story that started in a milk barn and ended on a graduation stage — and a rope that proves what looked impossible is just a skill you haven't learned yet.
The challenge was being pulled out of fifth grade and dropped off at the library to teach myself. It didn't seem so bad at first. Until I started looking out the window every morning while I was milking the cows and watching the school bus go by with my classmates still on it. Sixth grade. Seventh. Eighth. Year after year they kept going forward on that bus while I stayed in the same place. And every year that went by, the measuring stick got louder. They are getting smarter. I am getting dumber. They are worth educating. Apparently, I am not.
But my grandma also gave me a promise. It came in two forms. The first was a rope. She had seen me fall completely in love with the idea of making a rope do the impossible after I watched a cowgirl at a school assembly make one defy gravity and dance. She saw that passion in me and she gave me a rope to show me she saw it. The second form was something she said to me every single day when she dropped me off at the library. She told me I could do anything I put my mind to as long as I believed in myself and studied what I was passionate about.
That gave me a choice. I could measure myself by the bus that went by without me every morning. Or I could choose to believe the promise and keep picking up the rope. So I did both. I kept picking up the actual rope, working it until the impossible became something I could do. And I kept picking up my education the same way, one brave choice at a time, measuring myself not by what the circumstances said about me but by the standard I was slowly building with my own hands.
"Picking up the rope wasn't about trick roping. It was about proving to myself that I got to decide what I was capable of, not the measuring stick my circumstances handed me."
The first step is a conversation. No pitch. No pressure. Just thirty minutes to find out if this is the right fit.
Tell Kristen where you're stuck, what you've already tried, and what needs to change. She'll tell you honestly whether she can help — and what that would look like.
The 6-week private coaching program for professional women. Six sessions, one rope sent to your door, and one measuring stick you actually built yourself.
Bring Kristen to your stage — she shows up with a rope and a room that leaves measuring itself differently. Or do the deeper work one on one, six sessions, one rope sent to your door.