For more than 42 years, I built my life in retail leadership. I started on the sales floor, learning quickly that retail is never just about products it’s about people. Over time, I grew into roles that carried more responsibility: leading teams, opening stores, driving performance, training others, and navigating the constant pressure of numbers, goals and expectations that never really stop moving.

I learned how to manage chaos on busy floors, how to motivate teams when morale was low, and how to keep showing up even when I was running on empty. I also learned the cost of that kind of life - the toll it takes on your body, energy, and sometimes your sense of self. However, I stayed with it because I understood it, and because I was good at it.

At a certain point, something shifted… The success metrics weren’t enough anymore. What started to matter more was meaning - how people are treated, how leaders impact others, and what gets left behind after the numbers are met. That’s where my transition into advocacy began.

Advocacy, for me, isn’t a career change but more so a re-direction of everything I’ve learned. It’s taken decades of leading people, solving problems, and surviving high-pressure environments and then using that experience to speak up, support others, and create space for honesty about what work and life actually cost.

Life has taught me that strength isn’t just endurance. It’s awareness. It’s knowing when to keep going and when something needs to change. Most importantly it’s realizing that experience only matters when it’s shared in a way that helps someone else.

My story matters because it reflects something bigger than me-what it looks like to build a life, to question it, and choose to use what you’ve learned for something more human, more honest, and more connected to others. Over time, I became someone who could handle almost anything on the surface-but behind that, my body was carrying a very different story. After multiple surgeries, chronic pain, anxiety and depression, I began to experience life differently. I wasn’t just pushing through work anymore; I was also navigating what it means to function in a body that has limits, and in a system that often doesn’t slow down for them.

That experience became a turning point. It wasn’t one single moment, but realization that so many people-especially those dealing with illness, injury, or invisible conditions-are trying to perform in environments that don’t fully see what it costs them. That’s what led me into advocacy to.

My transaction into advocacy came from lived experience. It came from understanding firsthand and what it feels like to keep going through pain, recovery, and fatigue while still being expected to perform at a high level. It also came from recognizing that leadership isn’t just about driving results-it’s about how people are treated while they’re trying to produce for their leaders. Now, I take everything I learned over four decades in retail-leading teams, managing complexity, and surviving high-pressure environments-and I use it to speak up for people who are often overlooked in the systems. Advocacy, for me, is about making the invisible visible.

Life has taught me that resilience isn’t just pushing through. It’s learning what your body, your mind, and your life are telling you-and having the courage to respond differently because of it. It’s also taught me that experience only becomes meaningful when it’s shared in a way that helps others feel less alone in theirs.

My story matters because it reflects something many people live but don’t always say out loud: that success and struggle can exist at the same time, and that sometimes the most powerful leadership begins when you decide to turn your own experience into something that serves others.