I refuse to accept that success requires suffering

What I’ve learned

My professional journey defies conventional career paths. After a decade as a stay-at-home mom raising two children in California (by way of Oregon roots), I stepped back into the workforce and discovered what true vulnerability feels like.

No one wanted to hire the woman with a ten-year "gap" on her resume.

So I sold copy machines. I started from scratch. Again. And I learned something that continues to surprise me: in a world of complex career strategies and corporate politics, the simplest principles—keeping your word and treating people with genuine kindness—became my unexpected superpower.

Every soul-crushing job, every dismissive manager, every closed door—they weren't detours. They were the education I couldn't have planned, layering experiences that shaped the leader I am today.

The best ideas don't trickle down from corner offices—they emerge from those closest to our customers, whose voices often go unheard. I've built my career creating spaces where these voices rise above the noise, where innovation flows freely across hierarchies, and where acknowledgment replaces invisibility.

When it's all said and done, I'll have just one question: "Did I leave this place better than I found it?"

This philosophy applies equally to boardrooms and living rooms. It's why I wrote Making Sundays Less Scary—because transforming our relationship with work transforms every other relationship in our lives.

The path from selling copy machines to leading organizational transformation wasn't linear or pretty. But it taught me that your next chapter is never defined by your last one—it's created by the small, courageous moves you make today.