The First Time She Charged What She Was Worth

For a long time, I questioned whether I was asking for too much. Then I realized how much I had poured into becoming the woman and leader I am today: the late nights, hard lessons, mistakes, resilience, and years of learning. The moment I stopped apologizing for my value and started believing I deserved a seat at the table, everything changed. I learned that knowing your worth isn't about asking for more, it's about finally refusing to accept less than what you've earned!

I stopped waiting for someone else to validate my worth. After navigating setbacks, rebuilding my career, and seeing the impact of my work firsthand, I realized my value isn't determined by who says yes to me, it's reflected in the expertise, resilience, and results I bring every day. I was still nervous, but I reminded myself that closed mouths don't get fed, and the worst anyone could say was no.

I always enjoyed the work I did and never put price over the personal value to be doing what I found I loved to do as long as my lifestyle was what I valued. The challenge was navigating the culture of men and women in the same competing market place. I found that if I valued myself, the compensation would show that value.

The biggest mindset shift was realizing people weren't hiring me to do me a favor. They were choosing to invest in themselves, their people, and their organizations. My responsibility is to honor that investment by creating meaningful, lasting value.

The first time I truly valued my expertise was when I stopped pricing my time and started valuing the years of experience, hard-earned lessons, and results I bring into the room. The confidence came from realizing that clients are not paying me for an hour; They are paying for the clarity and outcomes it took me decades to learn how to create.

The first time I truly valued my expertise was when my voice rose from the background, trembling yet certain. In that moment, speaking about holistic living and women's wellness, I realized that truth itself is magnetic. When a woman aligns her spirit with purpose, she becomes abundance embodied.

I guess the real moment came when I won Best of Show and a First Place at a county fair art show. The judge said that he could tell I was lacking confidence because my prices were too low. Not only was my work worth more; I was worth more.

The first time I truly valued my expertise was when I invested nearly $1,000 in a course on how to write a book in 90 days. It was the first time I made a significant investment in my own knowledge because I believed my ideas and experiences were worth developing. That course changed the trajectory of my life. It inspired me to create the World Bipolar Day Mental Health Awareness & Arts Festival, which launched my work as a mental health advocate. Today, I am the Founder and President of the World Bipolar Foundation. Seeing how one investment in myself led to initiatives that have impacted hundreds of people gave me the confidence to recognize the value of my expertise. I learned that if I was willing to invest in my own growth, I could confidently ask others to invest in my work as well.

I never place any price on my career. What stands out for my worth as a teacher is my love for children.

I realized my value when corporations were hiring executive search firms to steal me away, I was just keeping my head down and working and the calls came in. That's when I recognized the value.

The biggest shift for me was realizing that clients weren't paying for the hours I spent on a project. They were paying for the years it took me to know what to do with those hours. Pricing your own expertise can be uncomfortable, and imposter syndrome definitely shows up. But experience isn't just knowledge. It's judgment, pattern recognition, knowing which questions to ask, and often seeing the problem before someone else can articulate it. Learning to value that changed the way I priced my work and the way I valued my own expertise.

The diligence, care, and integrity with which I perform my work along with report of satisfaction from those that benefitted from my expertise.

I was talking with some former colleagues about my business, and I mentioned that I wasn't sure what my hourly rate should be. One of them threw out an "at least ___" and my jaw dropped! I couldn't imagine asking people to pay that much. Then she asked me a few questions: How many people keep coming back to my trainings? How many teachers ask me to consult in their classrooms? How many people walk away from a professional development session saying, "That was the best PD I've ever had?" When I really thought about it, the answers were more than I could count on two hands, for every training, school, and PD I'd done. That was the moment I realized I had more to offer than I'd given myself credit for.

The first time I truly valued my expertise was when I stopped looking at my work as simply completing tasks and started paying attention to the value of what changed because I was in the room. I realized people were not coming to me because they needed another set of hands. They were coming to me because I could walk into something complicated, see what others were missing, connect the pieces, anticipate problems, and create a clear path forward. That ability had been developed through years of education, experience, preparation, good judgment, and, quite frankly, making mistakes and learning from them. The confidence to charge accordingly came when I understood that clients were not paying for my time. They were paying for the years it took me to know what to do with that time. There was also a point when I had to become comfortable with the fact that everyone would not be my client. I could lower my price to make someone else more comfortable, or I could build a business around the actual value I create. I chose the latter. Now, when I price my work, I think about the problem being solved, the decisions I am helping a leader make, the time and money I can protect, and the cost of allowing an operational problem to continue. My father always says, "Preparation is the separation." I think pricing was another version of that lesson for me. I had done the preparation. The next step was having enough confidence in myself to stop asking for permission to be valued accordingly.

From Devastation to Dynasty: How Women Build Women Up "Your greatest setback can become the foundation of your greatest legacy." There are moments in life that separate everything into "before" and "after." For me, that moment came in 2013. I was 33 years old, pregnant with my second son, raising a four-year-old, and living in Maryland while all of my family and closest friends remained back home in New York. I was a stay-at-home mom, and my husband worked long hours for an electric company. My second pregnancy was nothing like my first. I was constantly sick, exhausted, and doing everything I could to keep up with a toddler while spending most days alone. Then Hurricane Sandy hit. My husband was sent to New Jersey to help restore power after the devastation. While he was there, he began an affair with a coworker. I had no idea. My focus was growing our family and preparing to welcome our second son into the world. One morning, I woke up to a handwritten note. He wrote that I seemed happy and content raising our children, that he no longer knew where he fit into our lives, and that he would never run around on me. Then he left. Months later, he came home. I wanted to believe our family would heal. I later learned he had only returned so he could be present for the birth of our son. The most painful part was not that he was in the delivery room it was discovering that while I was bringing our child into the world, he was spending much of that time on the phone with the woman he had been seeing. Two weeks after our son was born, he left again. In an instant, everything changed. I had a newborn. A four-year-old. No career. No income of my own. No family nearby. And I have no idea how I was going to rebuild my life. The days that followed were filled with court dates, uncertainty, fear, and more tears than I thought were possible. There were moments when I questioned everything. But somewhere in that brokenness, something inside me shifted. I stopped asking, "Why did this happen to me?" And I started asking, "What am I going to do now?" That single question changed the course of my life. I enrolled in college. At 33 years old. With a four-year-old and an infant. I had spent my adult life working in the restaurant industry. Bartending was what I knew, so I returned to it, working nights while attending school full-time during the day. My ex-husband had agreed to help pay for daycare but backed out at the last minute. Thankfully, my stepfather stepped in, moving to Maryland temporarily so I could continue pursuing my education while the courts worked through custody and financial support. There were days I did not think I could keep going. I was exhausted. Emotionally drained. Financially stretched. Trying to be everything for everyone. But every night, after putting my boys to bed, I reminded myself why I had started. I was not earning a degree for me alone. I was building an example. I wanted my sons to know that when life knocks you down, you do not stay there. I wanted them to see a mother who chose perseverance over pity. A mother who refused to let heartbreak define her future. A mother showed them that resilience is not something you are born with, it is something you choose every single day. I earned my associate degree and accepted my first position in healthcare. Six months into that career, I recognized another opportunity. If I wanted to continue growing, I needed to continue learning. So, I enrolled again. Balancing work, motherhood, homework, and life was not easy, but quitting had never been an option. In 2021, I proudly earned my bachelor's degree. That degree was not simply a piece of paper. It represented every sleepless night. Every sacrifice. Every doubt I overcame. Every promise I had made to my boys and to myself. What happened next is something the frightening 33-year-old version of me never could have imagined. The woman who once wondered how she would pay her bills became a healthcare leader at MedStar Health. I found purpose in leading teams, improving processes, and helping others grow into leaders themselves. I discovered that leadership is not about a title. It is about serving others, creating opportunities, and believing in people before they believe in themselves. As my career continued to grow, I was given opportunities I once thought belonged to someone else. Today, I have the privilege of speaking on national stages, sharing my passion for leadership, innovation, and the future of the medical services profession. Being selected as a national conference speaker was not simply a career milestone it was proof that our hardest chapters do not disqualify us from extraordinary opportunities. They prepare us for them. One of the greatest joys of my career has become mentoring interns and emerging leaders. Every student I encourage, every woman I coach, and every future leader I help develop reminds me why my journey mattered. Because someone once believed in me. Now I have come to believe in others. I know what it feels like to question your worth. I know what it feels like to wonder if you are enough. And I know the incredible difference one encouraging voice can make. That is why I am passionate about women building women. Not competing. Not comparing. But reaching back with one hand while moving forward with the other. I have learned that success means very little if you do not bring someone with you. Every woman deserves someone who reminds her that she is capable of more than she can see in herself. Every woman deserves to be encouraged instead of intimidated. Every woman deserves a seat at the table and when there is not one, we build a bigger table together. People often ask me how I found the strength to rebuild my life. The truth is that I did not wake up one day fearlessly. I simply decided that my circumstances would not become my identity. My story is not about betrayal. It is not about divorce. It is not about being abandoned. It is about refusing to abandon myself. It is about choosing growth over grief. Faith over fear. Purpose over pain. It is about turning devastation into a dynasty. Today, my greatest title is not manager. It is not leader. It is not national conference speaker. It is not mentor. It is Mom. Because my boys watched every chapter unfold. They watched me cry. They watched me study after they went to bed. They watched me work late at night. They watched me graduate. They watched me build a career from the ground up. Most importantly, they watched me refuse to quit. If they remember anything about my journey, I hope it is this: Life will break your heart. People will disappoint you. Dreams will fall apart. But none of those things get to decide who you become. You do. If my story reaches even one woman standing in the middle of her own devastation, I want her to know this: Your story is not over. Your pain has purpose. Your setbacks are preparing you for something greater. One day you will look back and realize that what felt like the end was the beginning. Because sometimes God does not rescue us from the storm. Sometimes He uses the storm to reveal the strength we never knew we had. And when women choose to build one another instead of competing with one another, we do not just change our own lives. We change generations. That is how devastation becomes a dynasty.