The moment that redirected my path wasn't a promotion; it was a decline. When I turned down a CDC PHAP fellowship to pursue an unconventional road in population health and pharmacy, I learned that purpose doesn't always follow the prestigious path.

I have always been creatively curious. That being said, I cannot stick to just one thing...ever! My career has spanned from graphic design to fine art to robotics, and most recently publishing and storytelling. I hope to write a book one day.

It took years for me to let go of guilt, blame, and hyper vigilance, common to survivors of deadly traumatic situations. Only by digging into every memory and learning about how grief and trauma can inhibit love and abilities did I experience healing and renewal for a total growth mindset. I shared that in my first memoir, Grace Interlaced, hoping to help others who needed to heal from grief, guilt, and blame.

The minute I realized evolution requires change, everything shifted. I understood that growth wasn't something that happened to me. It was something I had to choose. So I stepped into discomfort, confronted the patterns that kept me small, and acted before I felt ready. In doing so, I shed the identities that no longer fit and made room for the person I was becoming. I grew because I finally decided to participate in my own transformation.

I realized that my heart and mind needed expansion to accept the fullness of my greatness. I was not allowing my light to shine in fear that it would upset others. Once I said 'yes' to me, everything opened up.

I realized I was tired of being pushed to do things I didn't think were ethically right and deciding this was the time to prove myself by starting my own business. With my husband's support, and my determination, I am 8 months into owning and operating my own tax and accounting business. While it isn't big yet, I feel very accomplished that I have been able to get it going!

For years, I believed growth meant adding more to my life. What I discovered is that real growth often begins with letting go of the identities we inherit, the expectations we accept, and the stories we tell ourselves about who we are supposed to be. When I gave myself permission to release the version of me that no longer aligned with who I was becoming, I found something far more valuable than success. I found my voice, my confidence, and the freedom to lead from a place that was authentically my own.

One of the biggest leaps of faith I ever took was leaving a career after 34 years as a special education teacher and stepping into real estate. At first, it felt like I was starting over. What I discovered was that I wasn't leaving my purpose behind, but I was simply finding a new way to serve others. The patience, advocacy, compassion, and problem-solving skills I developed in the classroom, now help me guide buyers and sellers through one of the biggest decisions of their lives. Sometimes growth isn't about becoming someone new. It's about having the courage to use your gifts in a different way. I'm so grateful I took that step.

I stopped being afraid of what others thought. So I took a chance on myself and stepped confidently into new and terrifying spaces ... like starting a podcast.

I got married 6 months out of high school and had my first child at 19. When our son started first grade I went to college and majored in art. When I graduated I ran the peer counseling program at my local women's center but always took photos of my kids and grandkids. One day I was taking photos of my granddaughter Margot scootering down her driveway. Her neighbor came out and asked if I was a photographer. I said, "No, I'm her grandmother". Margot, at 7 1/2, turned to me and said "No Nana, you need to think of yourself as a photographer!" I was 57 years old and my self-image had always been as a wife, mother, grandmother and volunteer. Margot's words rang in my head and I heard her. A year or so later our younger son was applying for his MFA and needed a portfolio. He handed me his Nikon camera and asked me to photograph his work. Hearing Margot's voice and wanting to help my son I said yes. Fast forward: He got into grad school and I became a photographer with my first paycheck coming from the Juilliard School for photographing their Beyond the Machine concert!

I finally realized that if I wanted different results, I had to become different myself. After growing tired of the same disappointments and the constant feeling of defeat, I stripped away the beliefs that no longer served me, embraced my own evolution, and discovered that real growth within myself was the key to creating a more fulfilling outcome.

Growth isn't about shedding the old self, but recognizing that the foundation built by that self is now strong enough to support the new structure.

One of the most valuable lessons in my career has been recognizing that success doesn't come from trying to do everything, it comes from doing the right things exceptionally well. As I embraced this mindset personally and professionally, I intentionally narrowed my focus to the areas where I bring the greatest value. Becoming a subject matter expert (SME) in my core disciplines has enabled me to provide higher-quality solutions, build stronger client relationships, and create more impactful outcomes.

For many years, I found deep purpose and identity in education. Having taught at multiple levels, I took great pride in witnessing my students excel and transition confidently into diverse career pathways. That sense of fulfillment remains, knowing I helped shape their futures. However, over time, I became increasingly aware of a quiet but persistent tension within me, a recognition that my impact, while meaningful, was confined to the traditional and virtual classroom spaces I occupied. I began to reflect more critically on the disparities I was observing. Many of the students I served were privileged with access to resources, opportunities, and support systems that are not universally available. At the same time, I could not ignore the reality that countless children across the world are still yearning, often desperately, for even the most basic access to education. That realization marked a turning point. I understood then that growth would require me to release a version of myself that had once felt secure. I made the intentional decision to transition into humanitarian work, with a focused commitment to advocating for children and women who remain marginalized and underserved. This shift was not a departure from education, but rather an evolution of it, one that broadened my scope of influence and deepened my sense of responsibility. Today, I leverage my voice, professional expertise, and lived experience to support initiatives that promote equitable access to education and uphold it as a fundamental human right. Stepping into this new space has been both challenging and deeply affirming. It has allowed me to align my purpose with a global need and to contribute meaningfully to communities that might otherwise remain unseen and unheard. Stepping beyond the traditional boundaries of education was not easy, but it was necessary. Growth, for me, meant expanding beyond those boundaries.

For a long time, I was the QA person. I found the gaps, documented what was broken, and made sure software did what it promised. I was good at it. And then I realized I had outgrown the role without noticing. I was already thinking about why programs failed, not just whether features worked. The pivot to program management did not come with a clean handoff. It came with an evening MBA pursued while working full time, and then continuing those evening classes after getting married, coming home exhausted to a new life I was still learning how to live. Nobody handed me the new identity. I built it in the margins of the old one. But the deeper identity shift came later, quietly, when I lost someone close to me. I realized I had been living inside a version of myself that was still deferring the present tense. I was still planning for a future I assumed was guaranteed, still treating the dinner table, the Saturday drive, the cup of black coffee as things I would enjoy properly when things slowed down. They do not slow down. And the future is not promised. The identity I outgrew was the one that believed presence was something you earned after the work was done. The one I stepped into understands that presence is the work. What I know now, from the career pivot, from the loss, from 16 years of showing up across industries and roles and versions of myself... is that the moment you feel too comfortable is the moment to pay attention. Comfort is not the enemy. Complacency is.

The hardest part of growth isn't learning something new. It's letting go of the version of yourself that no longer fits. I stopped trying to be the person who solved every problem and started focusing on building people and systems that could solve them together. That shift changed my career.

For much of my career, I believed my identity was tied to my title, the company I worked for, and the next promotion. I spent more than two decades at Pfizer in leadership roles, and while I loved the work, I quietly equated success with climbing the corporate ladder. Everything changed when my corporate career unexpectedly ended. At first, I saw it as something I had lost. Looking back, I realize it was an invitation to become who I was always meant to be. I had to let go of the belief that influence only comes from a Fortune 100 title and embrace the idea that impact comes from serving others. Today, I coach professionals through some of the hardest seasons of their careers, teach graduate students, lead a community called the Sue Crew, and help people turn setbacks into comebacks. Ironically, the moment I stopped chasing the identity I thought I was supposed to have, I discovered the one that fits me best. Growth didn't require becoming someone new. It required letting go of the version of myself that believed my worth came from my position. Now, my purpose is measured by the lives I help change, not the title on my business card, and that has been the most rewarding chapter of my career.