I’ve reinvented myself more times than I can count.

Not the glossy, overnight kind.
The real kind.

The messy, deeply human kind that comes from unexpected endings, unplanned pivots, and moments that quietly — or not so quietly — ask you to stretch.

My professional life began in the nonprofit world as a Media and Marketing Director. That’s where I learned the power of community and the impact of telling stories that actually matter.

It was also where I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

After treatment and surgery, I returned to work — only to find my role had changed.
Shrunk.
Diminished.

It wasn’t surprising.
But it was clarifying.

That moment pushed me to leave and step into something new: corporate communications.

That move eventually led me into organizational change management — guiding companies through transitions like new technologies, shifting cultures, and unfamiliar ways of working.

Different industries.
Different teams.
Different challenges.

Nothing about the path was linear.

But every stop taught me something important about who I was becoming.

What I didn’t fully understand at the time was how much these transitions were also testing my mindset.

Whenever a role ended — whether by choice or circumstance — panic showed up first.

When will I land another job?
How long will this uncertainty last?
What if this time I don’t bounce back?

If you’ve ever been there, you know that loop.
For a long time, it ran my life.

Eventually, though, I started asking a different question:

What did I take from my last role that I can carry forward?

That shift changed everything.

I began to see that none of it was a detour.

Nonprofit storytelling.
Corporate communications.
Change leadership.
Coaching.
Strategy.

Each chapter was preparing me for the next — even when I couldn’t see it yet.

I’ve been working since I was 15. Reinvention isn’t new to me. Growth isn’t either.

And despite what society whispers about “slowing down,” I’m not ready to retire — not from my work, not from my purpose, and certainly not from becoming.

Lately, I’ve been exploring what’s next.

I’ve taken courses in AI and ML and other tools to upgrade my skills.
Reconnected with peers.
Listened more closely to my own intuition.

Some days, clarity comes easily.

Other days, fear sits quietly behind my shoulder, reminding me it hasn’t gone anywhere.

And here’s what I finally understand:

Fear doesn’t mean stop.
Fear means pay attention.
Fear means you’re standing at the edge of something that matters.

So this is my honest — slightly tough-love — reminder to myself:

Find your way back to you.

Not the version shaped by job titles.
Not the one defined by what ended.
Not the one trying to outrun fear.

Return to the version of yourself who has always figured things out.

The one who learned new industries from scratch.
Who led people through uncertainty.
Who built trust, shaped narratives, and helped others move forward — even when the path wasn’t clear.

This next chapter isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about returning to the core of who you’ve always been: capable, creative, resilient, and deeply committed to helping people navigate change.

You’ve done it before.
You’ll do it again.

And this time, you get to do it with more wisdom, more clarity, and more self-trust than ever before.

So I’ll leave you with this:
Where in your life might fear be asking you to pause — not to retreat, but to listen more closely to who you’re becoming?