I realized I was carrying the emotional weight of dozens of clients. The day I stopped coaching from feelings and started coaching from data was the day I stepped out of the approval trap. Now when someone says a strategy isn't working, my first response is, 'Let's look at the numbers.' That shift gave both of us our power back.

Childhood should be a time of building a strong foundation and a bridge to adulthood. It should be a time of carefree days, laughter, and joy. It was not that for me. My childhood was a time of traumatic experiences and darkness. As those childhood years ended, my pain did not. As an adult, I became someone who was seeking the approval of others. In my role as a housing program manager, I was required to attend management training alongside my manager. As part of the training, I was required to complete a questionnaire assessing my effectiveness as a manager. My manager had to complete the same questionnaire, revealing how effective she thought I was as a manager. Before the trainer gave me my manager's questionnaire, she said to me, "If you would like to talk to me privately, just let me know." When I read the questionnaire completed by my manager, I realized she thought I had no ability to do the job she hired me to do. All of the things I had done to show her I could handle the job meant absolutely nothing. I was devastated and angry. After leaving the training and sitting alone in my car, those old tapes began to play in my head about how worthless I was and how I would never amount to anything. I screamed to myself, "This is it, no more". I went home and began searching through my Bible for every scripture that told me who I was in God's eyes. Every day I studied my Bible. I went back to my roots. Through all of my childhood trauma, I had been active in my church and my Christian walk. As I studied, God replaced all of that junk in my head with His love for me. I began to believe I could do anything with the power of God beneath my wings. I put God first, and the pressure of trying to please others slowly melted away. Research shows that approximately 64% of all adults in the US have experienced at least one traumatic event before the age of 18. I believe my purpose is to help as many of these hurting adults as I possibly can through my life coaching program, Next Level Living. I know who I am, whose I am, and why I am here.

For a long time, I did not think of myself as someone who chased approval. I was capable, independent, and responsible. I did what needed to be done and did it well. What I eventually realized was that I was still measuring myself by how reasonable, acceptable, or easy I was to live with for other people. The turning point was noticing how often my ambition needed explaining. Wanting more was treated like something that required justification. I found myself softening my goals, downplaying my drive, or translating my decisions so they felt less threatening. That was approval seeking, just dressed up as being practical or considerate. When I stopped chasing it, the biggest change was internal. I no longer needed consensus to move forward. I trusted my own judgment enough to act without waiting for reassurance. That shift changed how I showed up at work. I stopped managing perceptions and focused on doing meaningful, difficult work. My confidence became quieter but more solid because it was based on capability, not reaction. Some relationships changed. A few became more honest. A few fell away. But the ones that remained felt lighter because I was no longer negotiating who I was allowed to be. Letting go of that pressure gave me back a sense of agency. My self worth stopped being something I earned through performance and became something I carried with me. What I found on the other side of approval was not arrogance or isolation. It was clarity. And with that clarity came freedom.

I have always been a little loud. I like exclamation points. I bring energy into rooms, sometimes before I realize I am doing it. Early in my career, I learned to treat those traits as things to manage. I assumed professionalism meant dialing myself down, keeping my enthusiasm contained, and saving my personality for after hours. I thought credibility came from blending in and waiting my turn to speak. That belief followed me until I took a job at a company run entirely by women, led by a boss who was unapologetically herself. She was confident, expressive, and fully present. She did not soften her voice or shrink her personality to fit anyone else's expectations. Watching her lead that way was eye-opening. It challenged everything I thought I knew about how I was supposed to show up at work. Little by little, I came out of my shell. I stopped overthinking my tone and spoke up without rehearsing every sentence in my head (I even let myself use the exclamation points). What surprised me most was not just how freeing it felt, but how effective it was. I communicated more clearly, built stronger relationships, and felt more confident in myself as a professional and as a woman. I had never realized that I was chasing approval by editing who I was, but seeing a mentor model her worth and confidence gave me the courage to do it myself.

Faith versus Fear For many years, I measured my worth by the approval of others. I thought that if I worked harder, learned everything, and never made a mistake, I would finally feel secure. But I realized that chasing validation is a trap—because people's approval is temporary, and peace is found in trusting God. As Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds us, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight." I had been leaning on my own understanding, not trusting His plan for me. The turning point came when I decided to step out of the approval cycle. I sought mentorship, said yes to every training opportunity, and embraced instruction from peers and supervisors. I learned to receive feedback as guidance, not as judgment. I committed myself to understanding every aspect of my work—record keeping, housing, advisement, facilities, finances—and how each area connects to the bigger picture of institutional success. By learning the ecosystem, not just my role, I built confidence rooted in competence and purpose. As I grew in skill and knowledge, God replaced my fear with clarity and boldness. Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Leaning into that strength, I eliminated fear of failure and embraced a forward-thinking mindset. My relationships became more authentic, my work more intentional, and my self-worth became anchored not in approval, but in obedience and purpose. Stepping out of the approval cycle didn't make me less driven—it made me more grounded, more effective, and more confident. When you stop seeking validation and start seeking God's direction, you not only grow professionally—you grow in peace, purpose, and the courage to lead.

I didn't realize I was chasing approval until life forced me to survive without it. In 2009, I was in the medical assistant stage of my career when my children's father was tragically killed in a car accident. In a single day, everything changed. I was no longer just building a future; I was holding one together. I became a single mother overnight, working full time while going to school full time, carrying grief quietly while trying to stay strong for my children. At first, approval felt like fuel. I needed to prove (to my family, my workplace, and myself) that I could do this. That I was capable, dependable, and worthy of trust. I said yes to everything. I worked harder than necessary. I believed rest was something I hadn't earned yet. But over time, I realized my drive wasn't about being seen—it was about survival. I wasn't chasing validation; I was chasing stability. And once I understood that, something shifted. I stopped measuring my worth by how much I could carry. I focused instead on what truly mattered: providing for my children, honoring my goals, and building a future that felt secure; not performative. I pushed forward with my education, earning my Bachelor's degree in IT and later my Master's in Healthcare Administration. Not for applause, but because it aligned with the life I was intentionally creating. As my confidence grew, I stopped needing constant reassurance that I belonged in leadership spaces; I knew I did. That clarity followed me into my career. I was promoted to Associate Director of Operations, where I continue to drive operational excellence. This time, I lead without over-explaining, without shrinking, and without the fear of not being enough. None of this would have been possible without the support of my wife, Karen. Her belief in me (especially in moments when I was exhausted or unsure) gave me the steadiness to keep moving forward. Having someone who saw my strength before I fully recognized it myself made all the difference. Releasing the pressure to be approved of didn't make my journey easier, but it made it truer. I found resilience I didn't know I had, a steadier sense of self-worth, and the confidence to lead from experience rather than expectation. What I learned is this: when you stop chasing approval, you don't lose momentum; you gain direction. And sometimes, the strongest version of you is the one who keeps going, not to prove anything, but because she already knows who she is.

When I pursued my Ph.D. in Mathematical Statistics and Probability, I was raising two young children, ages three and five, while completing my doctorate entirely in Chinese in China. It was one of the most challenging periods of my life—balancing parenting, rigorous research, and studying in a language that was not my own. Yet, I did it. Completing my Ph.D. under those circumstances taught me the power of resilience, determination, and self-belief. Today, I carry those lessons into my work as a researcher, mentor, and educator, encouraging women and students in STEM to pursue their dreams, even when the path seems daunting. My story is a reminder that with perseverance, support, and confidence, women can achieve extraordinary goals.