Aida Rivas

One year after joining a company as a Software Engineering Lead, I was promoted to Project Manager to oversee an area in serious trouble. There was no real onboarding into the role, and unfortunately, at that point in my career, as a first-generation Latina and the first in my family to build a career in tech, I had little awareness of mentors, coaches, or the kind of support that might have helped me step into that new chapter more confidently.

I already had a strong software engineering background across industries and roles, but this transition felt different. I had to recalibrate my sense of who I was. What had once felt familiar no longer did, and I was learning how to lead in a space that demanded something new of me.

For the first time in my career, I found myself quietly questioning whether I truly belonged in the room.

In those early days, I leaned on the wisdom of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey. I carried those lessons with me as a way to stay steady: “Make small commitments and keep them. Be a light, not a judge. Be a model, not a critic. Be part of the solution, not part of the problem.”

But one quote stayed with me every day:

“Leadership is communicating to people their worth and potential so clearly that they come to see it in themselves.”

I held onto that because most of the team members assigned to me had low performance reviews, and I needed a way to stay grounded in possibility rather than discouragement.

That quote helped discipline my thinking. I began looking at each person through the lens of possibility, and the results were powerful. Team members stepped into a different level of ownership and leadership. Together, we reduced a significant customer backlog, improved customer satisfaction, supported business goals, and delivered a strategic compliance project on time.

And yet, even with those results, I was not able to successfully create a culture of belonging with the other project managers. Every day, I felt like I was in survival mode. The culture felt heavy. It did not feel inclusive of people who looked different or came from different backgrounds. Recruitment and leadership seemed to prioritize candidates and employees who graduated from the same top local university, making it harder to feel like I truly belonged in that environment.

That season taught me something I have carried ever since:

Belonging is not automatic, especially in spaces where assumptions already exist about who belongs.

I could do meaningful work, create results, and still feel disconnected from the larger environment around me.

It also taught me something deeper: competence alone does not create ease.

Even while delivering impact, I still needed to feel grounded in who I was. I needed to understand that belonging was not only something other people could give me—it was something I could begin to cultivate for myself through self-trust, clarity, and intention.

As I moved through different industries and roles, I began noticing something important: I was carrying more with me than I gave myself credit for.

Each experience added something—a lesson, a perspective, stronger instincts, or resilience—even when I could not fully see it at the time.

For years, I walked into new spaces as though I had to begin again from zero.

But that was never really true.

I was already bringing my values, experiences, and hard-earned wisdom with me.

What changed over time was my willingness to trust that more.

I began to see that I did not need to erase my past to belong in the present.

That shift mattered.

It helped me stop shrinking myself in new environments and instead show up with more steadiness and self-trust. I became more intentional about building genuine human connections, trusting that belonging could grow through consistency, openness, and being fully myself.

I also learned that when I later asked for a promotion at a different company, I could confidently speak not only about my work and business impact but also about the overall value I brought to the role. Leaders and sponsors became willing advocates for me.

Looking back, that early promotion shaped me in ways I did not fully understand at the time.

It taught me that belonging matters—not just for comfort, but for confidence, leadership, and growth.

It taught me that transitions ask something deeper of us than new skills.

They ask us to trust ourselves again.

And perhaps most importantly, it reminded me of this:

Women do not start from zero when entering a new chapter.

We bring wisdom with us.

We bring resilience with us.

We bring lived experience with us.

Even when we feel uncertain.

Even when we are learning.

Even when we are stepping into unfamiliar spaces.

The question is not whether we already have what we need.

The question is whether we are willing to trust what we have been quietly building all along.

Because sometimes belonging begins there—with the decision to stop shrinking, stop starting over, and trust ourselves enough to step forward with intention.

There are moments when the weight of expectations feels heavier than any promotion or paycheck.

I remember standing at a corporate crossroads, watching a few women race ahead while I wrestled with a question that kept me up at night: Could I build a meaningful career without sacrificing the kind of mother I wanted to be for my daughter?

Balancing career growth and motherhood was never simple. At times, it felt like I was walking a tightrope—trying to be the kind of mother my daughter needed while also building a career that was meaningful, sustainable, and financially stable.

When I made the decision to end my unhealthy marriage, I knew I needed to create a safer, more stable foundation—for both my well-being and my daughter’s future. That decision was difficult, but it also became a turning point.

As a single mother, I held two important goals close to my heart: to grow in my career and to create a home environment where my daughter could feel secure, confident, and deeply loved. I wanted her to grow up in a space where she could build inner strength, explore when the path was unclear, trust herself, and learn to use her voice with courage.

But the path was not always easy.

I worked in environments that did not always offer growth or fulfillment. At times, the demands were unrealistic, leaving me physically and emotionally drained. And because I was a mother, I was sometimes judged as though my commitment to work was somehow less than others’.

There came a moment when I looked around and noticed the few women in my company who were advancing quickly. I realized I needed to get clear about what success truly meant to me—and that it did not have to look like anyone else’s.

For me, success was never only about a title, a promotion, or managing larger teams. When I stopped measuring myself against others’ timelines and titles, my inner critic finally quieted. I could hear my own values instead of everyone else’s expectations. It became about alignment.

My core values—especially family, community, and spirituality—helped me understand what mattered most. I did not want to sacrifice being present for my daughter’s important moments. I wanted to attend key school events, support her growth, and model what it means to move through life with confidence, kindness, and a strong sense of self.

I also came to understand that my definition of success included peace, purpose, and impact. I wanted to lead in a way that reflected my values and lived experience. Over time, I recognized that my journey through uncertainty had given me the strength to help others navigate change as well.

That realization gave me clarity.

I began leading with greater confidence, leaning into my ability to help teams move forward—even when the path was unclear. Aligning my actions with my values allowed me to create my own lane—carving out space for both leadership impact and family presence, without apology.

Eventually, I left corporate life feeling proud of the impact I had made over a 25+ year career in tech leadership. I stepped into entrepreneurship with confidence, trusting that my experience, values, and vision had prepared me for what was next.

Today, when I look at my daughter—now thriving as a professional, having completed both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees, and growing into a compassionate, confident, community-minded woman—I am reminded that the choices we make during difficult seasons can shape the future in beautiful ways.

Sometimes, the path is not about choosing between career and motherhood.

Sometimes, it is about finding the courage to build a life that honors both.

What would your definition of success look like if it didn’t have to match anyone else’s?

When we choose alignment over approval, we often find a life that feels more authentic.