The year was 2001, and I was 35 years old—“old enough” to think I was supposed to have it all together. Whatever that means.

Except I didn't.

I was in a toxic work environment and an unhappy marriage. And I reached a point where I knew I couldn't continue as I was.

On paper, leaving was a risk. I had no backup plan, no clear path forward, and no guarantee that things would work out.

But the more I listened to myself, the clearer it became: I couldn't keep living in a way that compromised my integrity.

I realized I didn't need to have all the answers. I needed to trust myself enough to take the next step. And once I began to trust myself to trust myself, I found the motivation I needed to move forward.

So I left.

Not because I felt fearless or knew what came next, but because I finally understood that staying was costing me something far more important than certainty: my ability to live in alignment with my values.

It was one of the hardest decisions I ever made, and one of the most important. It taught me that sometimes the bravest thing we can do is act on what we know to be true, even when the outcome is uncertain. Integrity isn't just about what we say we believe; it's about the choices we make when those choices are uncomfortable, frightening, and potentially costly.

That experience continues to shape my work as an occupational therapist, coach, and speaker. I've seen how easily we can lose ourselves trying to meet expectations, keep the peace, or make situations work that are no longer sustainable.

I've also learned that moving forward doesn't always begin with a perfect plan. Sometimes, it begins with listening to ourselves, trusting what we hear, and taking that first step.

Today, I help others reconnect with what matters most and create lives and careers that are more sustainable, meaningful, and aligned with who they are.

Because sometimes, you don't need to know exactly where you're going. You just need to trust yourself enough to begin.

One small speaking suggestion: When you deliver the opening aloud, pause after “I was 35 years old,” then say “old enough” with a slight smile. Give “whatever that means” its own beat. That little moment of humor will draw the audience in before you take them into the more vulnerable part of your story.

In 2012, I found myself asking a question I suspect many professionals eventually ask: *Is this really what I want to be doing?*

I had been an occupational therapist since 1988, building a career that included clinical practice, business ownership, and a specialization as a Certified Hand Therapist. I had spent decades helping others regain function, independence, and quality of life. Yet somewhere along the way, I had become disillusioned with the very healthcare system I was working in.

Rather than accept that dissatisfaction as simply part of the job, I began exploring what else was possible. I discovered coaching and realized I could use my occupational therapy background in a different way: helping professionals reconnect with what matters to them, find greater fulfillment in their work, and prevent burnout before it takes over their lives.

That decision became a turning point. I pursued training in positive psychology and the science of happiness at work, while continuing to draw on my decades of experience as an OT. I also developed a special interest in Highly Sensitive People and how they can thrive in a world that often feels overwhelming.

Today, through coaching, workshops, webinars, and speaking, I help professionals move beyond simply surviving their careers to creating lives and work that feel meaningful, sustainable, and aligned with who they are. My own journey taught me that sometimes the most important career move is giving yourself permission to imagine something different.