The problem was, I kept myself so busy I had no time to breathe. Late nights. Half-hearted dinners. Old sitcom reruns because my brain had nothing left to give. Then doing it all again the next day.

I was working overtime to keep everything and everyone in harmony. Saying yes to make things easier for others, and calling it responsibility.

Somewhere along the way, I slipped completely out of integrity with myself. I lost sight of what I wanted because I was trained to be reliable before I was ever taught to be honest with myself.

The last time I remember feeling fully alive in my work was years earlier in college. I was president of the Cal Poly Rose Float program. I led a team of 40 people, managed a multi–six-figure budget, oversaw massive deadlines, and helped build a float from scratch. It was intense. High-stakes. Demanding. It was seen by millions. And I loved it.

Because I wasn’t just working hard, I was building something meaningful. Creating structure where none existed. Leading people. Making decisions. Refining systems that actually worked.

That was the thread I couldn’t ignore anymore.

That version of me had not disappeared. She had just gotten buried under years of doing what looked responsible.

That realization cracked something open. I dove into self-discovery, not as an escape, but as an investigation. I started studying Human Design, leadership, identity, energy, and the patterns behind how people work, decide, commit, and burn themselves out.

And underneath all of it, I came back to one very simple truth: I matter.

Not because of how much I produce.

Not because I can hold everything together.

Not because I make life easier for everyone else.

But because I get to choose how I lead my life.

That is the work I do now.