She Bought Two Meals Instead of Three: The Gift Hidden Inside Hardship
The Power of Discernment: How Life's Hardships Become Your Greatest Leadership Asset
There were three of us: my mother, my twin sister, and me.
Mom faced significant pressures. She cared for my elderly great-grandmother a few blocks away. She carried the weight of navigating a criminal justice system where my brother was lost. On top of that, she was laid off from a position at a company where she had worked for most of her life. Taking care of my twin sister and me with very little to work with was no easy feat.
She never told us how hard things were. She said she had errands to run. Meanwhile, she would leave the house before dawn on some mornings to secure a place at the front of the line for government assistance, food support, and help with the electric bill. She came home and made it look like an average, uneventful day.
However, when she started introducing powdered milk into our cereal, I noticed.
I didn't say anything.
She never let us see her count the change.
My mother pulled through the drive-through, placed the order, and handed us the bag when we got home. Two meals. Three of us.
That Saturday, I understood something I wasn't supposed to notice.
I learned to pretend I was full so she could eat what I left behind. She never asked me to. I never told her I was doing it. That was the agreement we kept without ever making it.
Two people protecting each other in the only language available to us.
Silence.
And small, quiet acts.
The Most Important Leadership Skill
I didn't know it then, but I was learning the most important leadership skill I would ever possess. I was learning discernment—the ability to recognize what people need before they find the words to say it.
My mother was teaching me to read what people wouldn't say and respond without making them feel exposed by being seen.
I carried that skill forward long before I had a name for it.
That skill left an impression even I wasn't aware of.
Fifteen years later, that same ability to connect with people would open doors I never imagined. When UCLA Health began searching for a leader, a headhunter thought of me immediately.
I was honored, but I struggled to believe I belonged in the conversation.
Really? They want someone like me?
Despite years of experience and a strong professional reputation, the little girl from Houston still needed reassurance that she belonged in rooms she had earned the right to enter.
UCLA was not looking for a perfect résumé. They were looking for someone who could relate to people deeply enough to influence change.
They were looking for me.
Shrinking Before I Had Even Begun
But I didn't walk in knowing that.
When I joined UCLA Health, I did what I thought I needed to do to fit in. I wore my hair straight. I wore conservative black suits so as not to draw too much attention to myself.
I was shrinking before I had even begun.
My supervisor noticed.
She told me she saw that I was a bit timid and wanted me to know that I didn't need to be. She had a simple way of giving advice. She borrowed it from her mother:
"Do you, boo boo."
Three words that gave me more confidence than any formal leadership training ever had.
When she was promoted, another executive leader reinforced the same message.
She challenged me to be bold, to speak freely, and to trust my perspective. More importantly, she made it clear that my voice mattered.
Their encouragement did not give me permission.
It confirmed what I already knew.
The freedom to lead effectively came when I stopped shrinking and started embracing who I was.
The little girl from Houston is still there.
I just don't allow her to overpower my decisions.
Meeting People Where They Are
Recently, a trusted colleague asked a question that stopped me cold:
What is it about you that keeps placing you in rooms others are still trying to access?
I sat with that question for weeks. It took nearly a month to arrive at an answer.
I recently submitted my application to run for a national board position with Association for Professionals in Infection Control and Epidemiology. Colleagues from across my career wrote letters of support on my behalf.
I read them looking for patterns.
The same phrase appeared more than once:
Meeting people where they are.
I realized they were describing the same skill my mother taught me years earlier.
That skill showed up long before I had a name for it.
I saw it clearly during my first week at UCLA Health.
The team had decorated the office to welcome me. They were friendly and engaging. I could tell they made time throughout the day to connect and have fun.
I made it a point to check in with each employee individually. Most were out on the units, but one was at her desk. At first, I thought she was focused on surveillance. As I walked by, she glanced up, said hello with a smile, and turned back to her computer.
I could see it in her eyes.
Something unspoken behind the smile.
Something she wasn't yet ready to say aloud.
I recognized it.
I had seen that look before.
I had worn it many times myself.
I set up a meet-and-greet and asked whether now worked or if she wanted time to collect her thoughts first.
She accepted the invitation to meet in that moment.
We started simply, exchanging surface-level pleasantries. Then she changed the subject and asked how my transition was going. As we talked, I shared some of the challenges that came with relocating from Texas.
The conversation created common ground.
She empathized and offered support.
The discussion shifted to her experience at UCLA Health—what she loved most and where she saw opportunities.
I asked specific questions that required more detailed responses.
She took a breath.
Sensing her hesitation, I shared my vision and collaborative approach. I explained that our success depended on engagement and that her voice mattered to me.
She talked.
I listened.
In that moment, I realized I was relying on the same skill my mother had taught me years earlier.
What she trusted me with that day, I carried carefully.
I summarized what I heard, brought forward opportunities and solutions during team meetings, and helped build a plan to strengthen the culture so we could make a greater impact at the system level.
I asked whether she would be comfortable meeting more frequently.
She agreed.
Over time, her confidence grew. She became more engaged, brought forward solutions, and expanded her influence within the organization.
Your Life's Experiences Are Roadmaps to Excellence
These examples highlight one truth:
Your life's experiences are roadmaps to excellence.
The skills that distinguish us rarely come from a classroom or leadership seminar. More often, they are forged through lived experience. They emerge from adversity, responsibility, sacrifice, and perseverance.
What feels ordinary to you may be the very thing that makes you extraordinary to others.
The very experiences you once wished away may be the ones preparing you for your greatest impact.
To the woman who may have been the first to graduate from college in her family, the first woman of color to hold an executive position in her organization, or the emerging leader standing at a crossroads between the expected path and the authentic one:
This is for you.
Wear your life's experiences as badges of honor.
Your path is uniquely your own.
Consider the unspoken rules, but chart your own course.
Wear the pink suit.
Wear your curly tresses if you wish.
You may see your experiences as struggles that created unwarranted pain. But what you carried was never a burden without purpose.
Those experiences were sharpening you.
Building within you a gift that others may spend years trying to develop.
A gift that will catapult you to heights you have not yet imagined.
Your capacity to discern what is not said is a gift.
See it in people.
See it in situations.
Use it to envision the next bold idea, the next strategy nobody sees coming.
Listen closely to the people who see your value.
They are witnesses to your blind spots.
Do not downplay what they share, especially when more than one person says the same thing.
That repetition is not coincidence.
It is confirmation.
Invest the time necessary to reflect on what is shared with you. Sit with it. Process the memories and experiences that shaped the development of this skill.
You may be surprised by how far back it goes.
When you understand how others experience you, it will affirm both your skill and your value.
Use it to your advantage.
You always had it.
The challenge is not developing the gift.
The challenge is recognizing it.
Once you do, there is no limit to where it can take you.
