[Closeup shot of a grizzly bear smiling with a blurred forest @wirestock]

Finding My Inner “Mama Bear” in Business

Every so often, someone will ask me, “What’s your sign?”

When I reply with, “Which one?” they usually look a little confused.

Most people assume our zodiac sign is just our Sun sign. But that is really just the outside world’s perception—one single aspect of who we are and how our personalities operate.

That idea reminds me of an HR onboarding session I attended several years ago. The facilitator explained that we all wear different “masks,” or versions of ourselves, depending on the situations we are in. If you are a parent, you put on one mask. When you are out with your friends, you put on another. In the office, you put on your professional mask.

During that same onboarding, my direct supervisor took the stage and started talking about finding your “True North.” I learned an incredible amount from this man, and one piece of advice always stayed with me: You need to find your niche within a niche.

At the time, I honestly did not think I had one.

Later in the session, the facilitator asked us to identify our primary professional persona. Without hesitation, my answer came immediately: mothering.

That answer surprised me a little because I was not thinking about nurturing in the traditional sense. I was thinking about protection. To this day, I often refer to myself as a Mama Bear.

In every role I take on, I find myself acting as the caretaker and fierce protector. If I am managing a website, I treat it like my child. I protect it, nurture it, and make sure it grows correctly. If I am leading a project, I focus on creating the conditions people need to succeed while fiercely defending boundaries against unnecessary complexity and scope creep.

At the time, I thought this was simply a matter of personality.

Years later, I started learning more about astrology and realized that, oddly enough, it reminded me of that onboarding exercise.

Before anyone stops reading, I am not talking about daily horoscopes or blaming missed deadlines on Mercury retrograde. What interested me was something different. Astrology views personality less like a single label and more like layers.

Your Sun sign is often described as the part of you that people recognize first. Your Moon reflects emotional instincts and what makes you feel secure. Your Rising sign is the version of yourself people often meet before they really know you. Mars explains how you act, move through the world, and get things done.

Suddenly, I was back in that onboarding session.

Different masks. Same person.

When I started thinking about my own chart through that lens, certain things began making more sense.

My Sun sits right at the edge of Gemini, which honestly feels fitting for someone whose career path has looked less like a straight line and more like a collection of side quests. I started in dental, moved into fitness, transitioned into marketing, and eventually found myself in digital strategy, web development, accessibility, and leadership.

For a long time, I thought changing directions meant I lacked focus. Now I think I just enjoy connecting worlds that do not normally speak the same language. Looking back, so much of my work has involved translating. Translating technical requirements into human experiences. Translating business goals into usable systems. Translating complexity into clarity.

But curiosity alone does not explain why I care so much.

That is where the Moon comes in.

The Moon is often described as emotional instinct—what makes us feel safe and what we naturally protect. When I started thinking about that, I realized something uncomfortable and oddly validating at the same time.

I do not actually love structure for structure’s sake.

I think I love structure because structure creates safety.

Maybe that is why I care so deeply about accessibility. Maybe that is why broken experiences bother me more than they should. Maybe that is why I become emotionally invested in projects and teams.

I do not build things because they need to exist.

I build them because somebody depends on them.

Then there is Rising.

This one made me laugh because Rising is often described as the energy people experience before they really know you.

People often describe me as calm, composed, organized, independent, and capable.

Meanwhile, my internal dialogue is usually something closer to:

Wait… who approved this?

Did anyone test this?

Why are there three different fonts?

That disconnect taught me something too.

Sometimes competence is really just care wearing professional clothes.

And then we get to Mars.

The placement that started this whole thought process.

Mars represents action, execution, and drive. Mine happens to be in Virgo.

In business language, Mars in Virgo sounds far less mystical than it does in astrology circles. It looks like operational precision, process improvement, documentation, quality control, systems thinking, and an unhealthy ability to notice when one thing is slightly out of alignment.

For a long time, I wondered why I was such a stickler for consistency.

But I do not think it is perfectionism.

I think it is protection.

Rules never felt restrictive to me. They felt supportive. Boundaries that keep projects safe. Structure that allows ideas to grow. Execution that protects the people relying on the outcome.

That is where the Mama Bear shows up.

Not because I need control.

Because I care.

And somewhere between an HR onboarding session, a birth chart, and several decades of professional experience, I finally found my niche within a niche.

Guardian of execution.

Which sounds dramatic.

But so does calling yourself a Mama Bear.

As I approach my 48th birthday, I am realizing self-discovery does not actually stop.

Even with decades of professional experience behind me, I am still learning something new about myself.

More and more, I am realizing my instinct to care deeply and protect fiercely is not something to outgrow.

It is how I build.

And hey, if you think I look young…

it’s the yoga.