My journey has been shaped by learning to prioritize my own well-being and integrity, even when it would have been easier to compromise. After years of people-pleasing and putting others' needs ahead of my own, I made the intentional choice to set boundaries, pursue work that aligned with my values, and invest in my physical and mental health. That shift from self-sacrifice to self-respect transformed not only my career in the mental health field, but my entire life. I learned that resilience is not about having it all figured out or reaching some perfect end point. It is about showing up authentically, standing firm in what you believe is right, and giving yourself permission to grow, stumble, and rebuild as needed. My story is still unfolding, and that is okay. I would be honored to share my story with your community. I believe that by supporting women through honest storytelling creates real change, and I am grateful for the work you are doing.

For most of my career, I measured my worth by how hard I worked and how much I achieved. I spent over 30 years in the fashion and sports apparel industry, eventually becoming a Senior Director at Under Armour. My identity was wrapped up in my title, my pace, and my ability to deliver. When that chapter ended after 13 years, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath me. Losing my job wasn't just a professional change, it shook my confidence to its core. What I didn't know then was that this loss would become the catalyst for rediscovering myself. In the quiet that followed, I returned to something that had helped me heal before: Pilates. Teaching part-time at Club Pilates, something I never thought I'd do, reignited a passion I didn't realize I had buried under years of corporate urgency. Instead of leading teams or managing floorsets, I was helping real people move, breathe, and feel strong again. And those moments were profoundly fulfilling. Over time, clients began opening up to me about surgeries, menopause, transitions, overwhelm. I realized that everything I'd done in my previous career, design, leadership, organization, creativity, combined naturally with this new purpose. It wasn't a single moment, but a slow, powerful buildup: watching someone stand taller after a session, helping someone reorganize their space and feel calm again, guiding someone into a style that matched who they were becoming. The day I decided to create Reset Collective LLC was the day I finally believed I was enough. Not because of a title. Not because of a corporate role. But because of the impact I could make just by being myself, empathetic, creative, driven, and deeply committed to helping people feel whole again. Stepping into my own worth didn't make me louder; it made me clearer. More grounded. More confident in the kind of work I was meant to do. Today, my confidence comes from knowing I can help people reset their lives from the inside out. And that realization, that I was already enough, has allowed me to build a business, a community, and a purpose that feels truly aligned with who I am.

I became a certified wedding planner through the Association of Bridal Consultants, which allowed me to offer honeymoon services with one resort brand. When a couple came to me looking for honeymoon planning, it felt like a natural fit until they learned which brand I worked with. The fiancé had previously had a negative experience and immediately declined. At the time, I did not yet have experience with other brands, so I referred them to a travel agent with years in the industry. Unfortunately, that agent never responded. When the couple came back to me, still trusting me and still needing help, I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility. These were my clients. I was planning their wedding. Yet I told them I could not help. They asked a question that stayed with me long after the conversation ended. Why was I not a full time travel agent? What was stopping me? Without realizing it, I began to shrink myself. As a woman and a minority, imposter syndrome crept in quietly. I convinced myself that pursuing travel planning in addition to wedding planning was asking for too much, that it was somehow beyond what I should want or attempt. Sitting with that discomfort led to a powerful realization. The only thing holding me back was me. Becoming a travel agent was not a leap, it was an expansion. I was already doing the work. Group contracts, logistics, and client care were part of my everyday process. This was simply growth in a new direction. I made the decision to become a travel agent, invested in education, joined the Destination Weddings and Honeymoons Specialist Association, and became qualified. Soon after, COVID reshaped the world. A destination wedding in Barbados was canceled, and much of the training and support I expected from my host agency came to a halt. For two years, I continued investing while the industry stood still. Just before my third year, I made another pivotal choice and changed host agencies. That decision brought immediate community, structure, and support. The momentum shifted quickly. By May of 2025, I had already surpassed my total sales from 2024, and the growth has continued. Believing I was enough changed how I moved through my work and my life. I stopped waiting for permission and started exploring what was possible. This year, I launched group travel and organically filled four groups, something I once would have talked myself out of attempting. The moment I believed I was enough was not loud or dramatic. It was steady and transformative. And it opened the door to a version of myself that continues to grow.

For a long time, I believed my worth lived outside of me. In achievements. In titles. In how much I gave, fixed, or carried for others. I was competent, capable, and accomplished, yet quietly measuring myself against expectations that were never mine to begin with. Before the shift, life looked full on the surface and heavy underneath. I was always proving that I was smart enough, resilient enough, patient enough, loving enough. I mistook endurance for strength and over-functioning for value. If something didn't work out, I assumed I needed to work harder, bend more, or shrink my needs. The moment I finally believed I was enough didn't arrive as a dramatic victory. It arrived as clarity. It came after a series of disappointments that forced me to stop asking, "What did I do wrong?" and start asking, "Why am I accepting less than I deserve?" There wasn't one conversation or one crisis, it was the quiet accumulation of self-honesty. I realized I had been successful despite constantly doubting myself, not because of it. The realization was simple and radical: If I could build, lead, love, and survive while questioning my worth, imagine what was possible if I stopped. Once that clicked, my confidence shifted from external validation to internal authority. I stopped negotiating my standards. I stopped over-explaining. I became more selective, with my time, my energy, and the stories I told myself. Confidence no longer meant being loud or perfect, it meant being rooted. Believing I was enough didn't make life easier, it made it clearer. Clearer choices. Clearer boundaries. Clearer alignment. And that clarity changed everything.

For years, my work spoke loudly, but my self perception lagged behind my responsibility. I was leading organizations, advising executives, and building people centered systems while quietly overextending myself in spaces that required proof instead of partnership. I had mistaken resilience for self sacrifice and productivity for validation. Like many women in leadership, I believed that excellence alone would secure belonging. The moment I finally believed I was enough did not arrive through recognition. It arrived through clarity. That clarity came when I recognized that over performance is often rewarded in environments that are unwilling to evolve. I understood that explaining my worth was a signal, not a strategy. And I realized that leadership requires discernment as much as endurance. The shift was not a single event. It was cumulative. Professional setbacks that revealed misalignment. Personal moments that demanded boundaries. And leadership experiences that reinforced a core truth: confidence is not arrogance, peace is not passive, and presence does not require permission. Each demands clarity, boundaries, and the courage to lead without apology. When I stepped fully into my worth, my confidence became anchored in alignment rather than approval. I stopped negotiating my expertise. I stopped diluting my voice. I began choosing environments that valued integrity, accountability, and impact over optics. Believing I was enough did not change the work. It changed how I chose where and how to lead. That distinction made all the difference.

I stopped confusing endurance with excellence and my leadership got stronger. For much of my career in tech, thriving in a male-dominated environment meant being exceptional by default. I learned to be sharper than necessary, prepared for every angle, and relentlessly reliable. Competence wasn't just expected; it had to be undeniable. On the surface, I was succeeding. I led complex systems, managed high-stakes decisions, and delivered under pressure. But beneath that success was a quiet imbalance. Over-achievement had become my strategy for safety. Long hours were normalized. Constant availability was rewarded. I told myself this was leadership. The shift came when I realized I was applying better governance to my projects than to my own life. I optimized systems, mitigated risk, and protected delivery timelines, while treating my energy as infinite. That model would never scale. What changed everything was reframing balance as a leadership decision, not a personal indulgence. I stopped equating visibility with value and urgency with importance. I began setting boundaries the same way I set strategy: intentionally, clearly, and without apology. The result surprised me. My authority increased. My decisions improved. I was respected not because I did more, but because I led better. I learned that women in tech don't have to outwork everyone to belong. We have to stop confusing endurance with excellence. Thriving in a man's world didn't require becoming harder or louder. It required becoming more precise.