There was a moment recently when everything seemed to pause, and I could finally see how far I had come. It felt like a lightning bolt—sudden, overwhelming, and hard to ignore. I remember thinking, How did I get here? I am in graduate school, and I was recently accepted into the LBJ Women's Campaign School. For a moment, it didn't feel real. Part of me still wanted to say, Who is this? This can't be me. The girl who once worked at the front desk answering phones, directing calls, just trying to get through the day. For a long time, I carried the belief that I was "nobody from nowhere." But when I stopped and really looked back, I saw something different. I saw 20 years of showing up for students, for families, for my community. I saw the work of helping students regulate their emotions, find their voice, learn, and feel supported. I saw the quiet, consistent impact that doesn't always get recognized in the moment. And now, that same work has brought me into new spaces, reading policy briefs, building networks, and stepping into rooms where decisions are being made. Spaces I once thought were not meant for someone like me. That moment shifted something. It helped me realize that progress isn't always loud or immediate. Sometimes it is built quietly, over years of doing the work, even when no one is watching. I am no longer questioning whether I belong in these spaces. I am learning to recognize that I have earned my place in them, and that I have a responsibility to use my voice to help shape what comes next.

For years, whenever I had a slow day at work, I would sit down and write out my goals and visions for the future. I remember a defining moment while working for the state under a difficult leader. I wasn't fulfilled, and for the first time, I found myself questioning the passion that had always driven me. That's when I knew something had to change. So, I got intentional. On June 20, 2018, I created a goal sheet. I mapped out everything - 1-year goals, 2-year goals, 5-year goals, 5–7, 5–10, and even what I called my "infinity and beyond" goals. I carried that paper with me everywhere. It became my reminder that I was capable of more. I did not stop moving towards my goals, but eventually, life got busy, and I forgot about that list. Years later, while moving, I found it again. And in that moment, I realized—I had accomplished everything on that list, within the timeframes I set for myself. There were still some items remaining in the 5-7 years or 5-10 years categories, but everything under 5 years was accomplished. That was the pause I didn't know I needed. It shifted something in me. I've always been future-focused, always pushing toward the next goal, the next level, the next vision. But finding that paper reminded me that progress isn't just about what's ahead...it's also about honoring how far you've already come. Now, I'm more intentional about celebrating the journey, not just chasing the destination. Because life is beautiful. And while vision is important, so is presence. Don't get so caught up planning your future that you forget to live in and appreciate your present.