For many years, my identity was tied to a title. In Kosovo, I was known as a journalist; visible, established, and confident in who I was. That role shaped me, and for a long time I believed it defined me. But everything changed when I immigrated to the United States. Suddenly, I went from being "the journalist" to starting over in housekeeping because it was the only job I could get. It wasn't just a change in career. It felt like my entire identity had been erased. The label I had to let go of was the belief that my worth depended on a title. Releasing that identity was painful, but it was also the beginning of my transformation. As I rebuilt my life, I discovered that my true identity wasn't in what I used to do. It was in who I was becoming. I found strength in resilience, dignity in starting over, and purpose in lifting others who walk a similar path. I embraced a new identity rooted in values: Kindness, courage, leadership, and the determination to rise no matter how many times life asks me to start again. Today, as an Area Vice President and a mentor to immigrant women and emerging leaders, I lead with the heart of a woman who rebuilt herself from the inside out. Letting go of old labels didn't diminish me. It freed me to become the woman I was meant to be.

I released the label of who I thought I had to be to be accepted, the agreeable one, the strong one who carried everything quietly. I built my new identity by choosing alignment over approval, clarity over performance, and self trust over old expectations. That is where I finally met myself.

Early in my career, I felt boxed into labels that didn't fully reflect my capabilities, whether that was being seen as "non-technical," "supporting talent," or simply "the woman in the room" rather than a leader in my own right. Those labels were often subtle, but over time they shaped how I showed up, the risks I took, and even the roles I felt allowed to pursue. The identity I had to release was the idea that I needed to fit an existing mold in order to succeed in gaming. I stopped trying to be palatable or to over-justify my presence, and instead focused on owning my perspective and expertise. That meant speaking up earlier, taking on projects that stretched me beyond my job description, and being intentional about the kind of work and culture I wanted to help build. I built a new sense of self by grounding my confidence in results and values rather than perception. I sought out mentors and collaborators who saw my potential, invested in learning across disciplines, and allowed myself to be visibly ambitious. Over time, I shifted from reacting to expectations to defining my own path; one rooted in leadership, creativity, and impact. That alignment didn't happen overnight, but it's what ultimately allowed me to feel both credible and authentic in an industry that's still evolving.

For a long time, my identity was built around survival. I wore labels like the strong one, the fixer, the reliable leader, and the one who holds everything together. I learned early that being dependable meant being worthy. Being resilient meant being safe. And being needed meant I had value. Those roles served me, until they didn't. As I grew in my career and in my life, I realized that many of the labels I carried were shaped by expectation, not alignment. I was a soldier before I was a therapist. A provider before I was a nurturer to myself. A leader who absorbed everyone else's needs before acknowledging my own. I had mastered responsibility, but I had not mastered presence. The hardest identity to release was the belief that I had to earn rest, softness, or joy. Letting go didn't happen all at once. It came in moments, choosing to say no without guilt, allowing myself to be seen as still learning instead of always knowing, and recognizing that strength doesn't require exhaustion. I stopped defining myself solely by my titles or how much I could carry for others. In place of those old labels, I began building a new sense of self rooted in intention rather than obligation. I embraced being a woman who leads with empathy, not perfection. Someone who values boundaries as much as ambition. Someone who understands that healing and leadership can coexist. I allowed my identity to expand,to include creativity, rest, faith, and joy alongside discipline and drive. Today, I define myself less by what I do and more by how I live. I am a leader, yes, but I am also a learner. A mother who models balance, not burnout. A woman who honors her story without being confined by it. Letting go of old labels didn't mean losing myself. It meant finally meeting myself, fully, honestly, and without apology.

"Roles and labels are temporary; identity is eternal. Commanding my journey isn't about control—it's about growth, connection, and humility—it's rooted in purpose, rather than empty achievement." You are the strongest influencer of your life. Reflecting on our own character, the whole of who we are, of how we lead, is about finding and bringing meaning to our stories. I grew up with humble beginnings, a broken home, and an ambition that often felt bigger than my circumstances. There were no weighty expectations placed on me—so everything I did was to compete, to defy, to be noticed. I wore the label of "achiever" proudly, but it was rooted in striving rather than purpose. College was my first big dream and achieving my degree with honors opened doors I never imagined. An incredible advisor inspired me to dream bigger, and that led to beginning my career at Deloitte, then SEC reporting in biotech, and consulting—a season where everything seemed to come together. Yet, the real transformation wasn't in my résumé; it was in my attitude and my heart. I became rooted in faith, married, and eventually left corporate for consulting—a role I loved deeply. But then life shifted again—my husband invited me into his journey, and I stepped into an entirely new realm that would challenge me with new opportunities of growth and refinement. It would also be a catalyst for me to reignite my own career passion and path. Today, consulting and leadership are back in view, and unwavering faith is my foundation. What I've learned is this: roles and labels are temporary; identity is eternal. Commanding my journey wasn't about control—it was about growth, connection, and humility. It's investing in yourself and others, owning your worth, and aligning purpose with truth. Labels and roles teach us, but they don't define us. Who you become depends on what you are willing to do and who you empower yourself to be.

As a single mother, I couldn't afford to sweat the small stuff or settle for the status quo. I chose my path with intention, and every day I move with purpose toward the finish line.

For a long time, my identity was tied to being part of something rather than fully owning something. I was the co-founder, the supportive partner, the one who kept the business running behind the scenes, the corporate marketer who could juggle it all. Those labels were comfortable, but they also kept me small in ways I didn't realize at the time. When my marriage and business partnership ended, I was forced to let go of identities that no longer fit—being "half" of a company, tying my credibility to someone else's presence, and believing that stability came from staying in situations that no longer aligned with my values. That was uncomfortable and scary, but it was also clarifying. Building a new sense of self didn't happen overnight. It came from doing the work—starting over, making hard decisions on my own, rebuilding a business from the ground up, and leading with honesty, integrity, and relationships instead of fear or ego. Launching 1609 Marketing wasn't just a career move; it was a declaration that I trusted myself fully for the first time. Letting go of old labels gave me space to step into a more authentic identity: a confident, values-driven leader who doesn't need permission to build, lead, or succeed. I didn't become someone new—I finally became more of myself.