Childhoodtake2!

May — Expand with Ease

Intention: Say yes selectively.
Follow curiosity and joy—without overcommitting.

I once wore being busy like a badge of honor. My calendar was filled with meetings and every moment had an agenda and a plan.
My whole body was heavy, exhausted, screaming at me.

I lived in constant, organized, full calendars.
I was in agony.
I said yes to anything that was asked of me.
Anything that was hinted as an ask, I jumped at the chance.
I lived for work and relished in busy.

I promise I was not trying to stay distracted, I just didn't see a way out.

But all of that changed. And I found a better way. A clearer way.

Saying yes is intentional now. Saying yes means something. It means I am saying no to something else, probably something that I want to do, so I better want and or need to be there. I better be learning a lot, moving a cause forward. I no longer say yes because I am programmed to do so.

I am learning what it means to expand with ease and be a little more intentional.
I am learning who else I am outside of my work, outside of my career and titles.
I am learning to be more whole and more at ease. I am taking so much time for myself.

I am learning to not fill my days up and brag about my schedule. I put that badge away. I did earn it, but it needs to be placed in the drawer, where it now belongs.

My days are becoming more mine.
I am learning what it means to expand with ease.

I am truly honored to be here and it is not something I take lightly.

I know the value of being surrounded by so many remarkable women and I want to thank you for breaking barriers, leading businesses, supporting communities, raising families, and still somehow finding the strength to lift others along the way.  

And if I’m being honest, I have sat in this audience for over 2 decades and never once thought I belonged on this stage, accepting any sort of award.

Because my story never started with, nor does it end in, confidence.

I have been defined by walking through fear.

Over and over again.

After spending more than 20 years loving my role in the nonprofit world, I heard an annoying voice telling me it was time to move on.

And I tried to squash it, I dug deeper into my work, thinking I could hard work the voice away.

At first, all I could think about was leaving behind a career that raised me, built me, and gave me the identity I had known for so long, but that voice wouldn’t stay quiet. And little did I know it was ambition and grit trying to break through.

I didn’t have all the answers, and shocker, I wasn’t overflowing with confidence. I just knew I had hard work wired in me; I knew that I cared deeply about people.

So I took the first step.
And then the next one and the next one after that.

But what I’ve learned is that courage isn’t about feeling fearless.
It’s about choosing to move forward anyway.

Even when your voice shakes.
Even when you’re unsure.
Even when it would be easier to stay where you are.

I want to be clear that my years in the nonprofit world shaped who I am. They taught me that when you invest in people, when you believe in them, and truly see them, you create something far greater than success. You create strength.

Capital CFO+ was built on that belief. But more than anything, it was built on relationships.

And for me, every step forward has always been rooted in people.

I would not be standing here without the people who have surrounded me along the way. Those who have believed in me, always more than I believed in myself. Specifically, everyone at tables 27, 28, and 18.

You protect my light.

You remind me who I am when I forget… hold space for me when things feel heavy… and encourage me to keep going, even when I don't feel strong.

Because the truth is, strength doesn’t always look the way we think it should.

Sometimes, it's is quiet and vulnerable.
Sometimes, it’s just taking the first and then next step.

For me strength is showing up. It’s kindness and resilience. Strength is having the courage to become exactly who you are meant to be.

To my daughter and my son, you are everything good. Everything I do is rooted in the kind of world I want you to grow up in… one where you feel confident, supported, and unafraid to take up space.

And to my husband, I no longer know how to say thank you but from the moment we met until the day we die, you are forever their hero and my coach.

This award means so much to me because it represents more than business success. It represents every moment where fear could have won, but didn’t. And it is not just mine. It belongs to the team, our clients, my family, and this incredible community. It belongs to those who believed in me.

So today, I just want to say thank you.

I want to end by saying to every woman here, please keep going.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when it’s uncertain.
Especially then.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing we can do… is take that next step forward anyway.

So, as the expression goes, here is to strong women, may we know them, may we be them, and may we raise the hell out of them.
Thank you so much.

As I look back at a year that felt heavy and difficult.
A year that brought worry, anxiety, and concern.
A year that brought a little more loss, a little more chaos, a little more hard.
But also a year that brought a little more clarity, a little more strength, a little more light.
I need to remember that I worked hard this year.
Hard on myself, hard on my health, hard on my emotions, I tried hard this year.

And, for the very first time, ever, I am reflecting back on my lessons learned and what I want to leave behind, and what I want to carry with me.

1. People are everything. And sometimes hard lessons come from people. And most times, I hold on to the wrong people for way...too...long.
   • Is it fear of conflict? Is it loyalty? Is it hope...hope that it will go away, all turn around? Is it a lack of confidence, a lack of self-respect? No matter the reasons, the many, many reasons, I have to remember that the cost of holding on to those that do not build us up is way too expensive.
   • And the key takeaway, I have to remember that it is always kinder in the long run to address things early than to prolong uncertainty for everyone...myself included.
     
2. Leadership in my business is not a one-size-fits-all. I cannot lead with only my heart. I have to learn to balance with strength and clarity. I am empathetic, I am a relational person. But sometimes, pure strength is needed, and sometimes, a balance of both is needed.
   • So, in 2026, I will blend empathy with clear expectations. I will offer support with accountability. I will have the difficult conversations with integrity and grace.
   • And the key takeaway, leadership is not soft vs. strong, it's compassionate clarity.
3. Money matters, and it's okay to talk about it.
   • This year, personally and professionally, we tightened priorities, we had honest conversations about sustainability and growth, and we learned about resilience and transparency.
   • And the key takeaway, financial clarity breeds confidence.
4. Find a framework that helps you find yourself.
   • For me personally, it was a mantra that I repeated: I see and protect the light in me, and the light in me sees and protects the light in you.
   • For the business professionally, it was EOS. It defined who we are as a company. It aligned our priorities, roles, and created rhythms, formulas, and an amazing dance. It opened up honest communication structures and helped shape and form us.
   • And the key takeaway, having a framework gave me a language and a way for me to grow.
5. Identity matters, and I am someone who cares.
   • That phrase became more than a slogan. It is my company's slogan because it is who I am, who we are.
   • This phrase grounded me when decisions were hard. It helped me to help others understand who I am, who my company is.
   • And the key takeaway, clarity about my identity strengthens my decision-making. It's my guiding star.
6. Trust is built, not assumed.
   • In the beginning of starting my company, I built something that had positions with unclear roles. We always wanted to protect each other, but we didn't have a way of making things more, well clear. We didn't want unhurt feelings. And we kept making the same old mistakes.
   • And in my life, I did the same thing. I was unclear about my line, my limit. I spent this year making clearer decisions. Pausing...more. Listening...more. Not having to interject. Not having to have 1-2 people, 3-4 people, be my everything.
   • And the key takeaway is, trust is a muscle.

2025, you were not my favorite. You were not the light of my life. But, you taught me so much. You gave me so many lessons to bring into 2026 and for that, I thank you.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way

Hi 2025.
It's been an interesting start for us.
You are the year I have decided, I will reignite my light, my heart, my warmth.
I will travel back home, just leave a light on.

But, you started with some dread.
Fear.
Worry.
Concern.
Doubt.

Oh, child, wipe the tears from your eye
You know I need you to be strong
And the day it as dark as the night is long

And I'm trying hard not to get sucked into the anxiety and give in to the fear.
But, this is our home, our livelihood, our way of life.
This is our money, our security, my security.

Sometimes I feel like I don't know
Sometimes I feel like checking out
I wanna get it wrong
Can't always be strong
And love, it won't be long...

And so, I'm trying to breathe through it all.
I'm trying to find my space, my rhythm, my groove.
I'm trying to find my beat, my boundary, my work, my joy, my passion.
We have built goals, and charts, dug into our history, our needs.
We have come together as a team and are ready to get back to our work.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way

And, to the loves of my life.
The ones that shine, light, love, faith, hope.
The ones that breathe life into my soul...

I know you don't know what to do.
I know you don't know what to say.
I know you don't know how to make it right.
I know you don't know how to fix it, make it all okay again.

But...

Your love was a light bulb
Hanging over my bed
Baby, baby, baby, light my way

Dear 2025.
I want to come home.
I want to find my peace again.
I want to fight for me again.
I want to come home.
Please leave a light on for me.

Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence.
You filled in where there was once limitless love, and I respect your presence.
You filled in where there was once love with limits and boundaries, and tempers, and pain, and I respect your presence.
You are the ultimate final act of love.
You are the reminder that there was unconditional, real, empathetic, caring, wonderful love.
And I respect your presence.

Our whole relationship was complicated.
Packed with fighting and times of so much rage and craze that we just walked away.
Most of my life was filled with so much anger because I could not understand you.
The time you wasted being angry, the reasons you were angry, the people you chose to be angry with, I could not understand any part of it.
And the thing that made me the most angry is you wasted time being angry and you wasted time wasting time.
You never understood that time was a gift and that all of our time is borrowed.
And yet, there were parts of you that I really understood, and I got your why.
Not always, but every once in a while, I got your why.

And the end with you was also complicated.
Filled with moments of laughter and lightness.
Filled with moments of heaviness and vulnerability.
Filled with a scared little boy and a grown man in denial.
Filled with anger and resentment.
Filled with more wasted time, and time worried about the wrong things.
Until finally, it was time to say goodbye.

Once you were gone, I had no idea where my mind, thoughts, and memories would go.
I am honored to say that I felt pure grief.
Loving, missing you, missing your big personality, pure, beautiful grief.
Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence.
I respected you from the moment you arrived, and I have not stopped.
I respect you for making me feel small and sad.
You reminded me that love once existed where you now stand so stand proud.
I respect your presence.

It felt like nothing could tear us apart. We were one family, united. We were everything and always. We were endless and always a breath away. We were each other's safety net and you were my laugh, my balance, my friends. Until we were no longer. Somewhere, somehow, we hit our limit in our limitless friendship - and it did not explode, it just vanished.
We were done, and you were all gone.
I spent months upon months upon months unable to catch my breath. I felt like I was being crushed with sadness. And then I lost my dad and I realized what I was feeling for us was grief.
Even though you still existed and walked around in the world, I was grieving you/us/ideas/love. I was grieving our love lost.
I replayed our times together and conversations. I picked up the phone countless times. I doubled over in pain. I held my son's hand as he grieved too. I curled up into a ball most nights. I yelled, I screamed, I did nothing at all but get small and quiet.
Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and not only did I not respect your presence, I tried to deny you existed. Until I had no other choice. I had to accept the fact that we were done and grief now stood proud.
Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence. The love you now replace was limitless, endless, truthful, and pure. You should stand proud because real love existed and I respect your presence.

I have had to let go of expectations of people, relationships, and what I had hoped we would be, or what I had thought we were. I have grieved safe spaces and love. Maybe something more beautiful will be born. Maybe we will be exactly what you have always told me we are. Maybe grief will help me to move on, or maybe it will keep me lingering. Maybe the love I still have will melt away the protection I am now seeking.
Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence.
I honor you for finding me because it means that I allowed my heart to feel this way. I allowed this amount of love in and outward. I poured as much of myself as I could and I am so lucky to have had this in my life. I respect your presence because it reminds me that I felt love.

As a 45-year-old woman who left her family with no reassurances, who created two amazing kids, who found the love of her life at 21, who left a career that raised her, who buried a puppy that was her reason, who is now raising those two incredible kids to be people in this world, who started a company that she adores, who has another puppy that fixed the broken, who has gone through stage after stage after stage with her husband, who walked her father to his death, who loved and lost, and lost a lot, who was born 40, who is living her best decade, who stopped proving she can do hard things, who continues to look at herself to find how to can be better, stronger, more myself. I am lost. I am living my best years and am still lost.
I have broken up with myself over and over again and I still am. I am still trying to make sense of who I am, how I fit in, where I fit in, who I need, what I need, and when.
Although I spent an entire year trying to live in a place of self-respect with boundaries on being a doormat, I still find myself, searching. I do not know what I am seeking or searching for, but I know that I am looking for something. And I know that I am grieving past lives.

Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence.
Where you now stand proud, stood a woman who was so fulfilled with her choices in love.
Where you now hold value was once a foundation that was so strong, and now is a little wobbly.
So I respect your presence. I respect your heartbeat and I respect the waves you bring.

Dear grief, you filled the place of love, and I respect your presence.
You are the ultimate final act of love.
And I respect your presence.

Those who are not grateful soon begin to complain of everything. – THOMAS MERTON 

Like the weather.
Or how fast time is moving.
Or about the kids. Or about our family. Or about our work.
Or how early it gets dark.
How hard it is to get up in the morning.

So instead, let me break the habit.

Like how much I enjoy each and every single season in NY, so, I may as well lean into the things I love about them.
Like how much earlier I want to sleep and hibernate because it is darker earlier.
Like how much I love to snuggle into a warm bed and that's why it's so hard to leave in the morning.
Like how time is moving way too fast, but I have a front-row seat to our kids getting older.
I get to see my daughter laugh like I do at TV shows.
I get to see my son scream with excitement with his dad at any game.
Like how much family I have surrounding me all of the time.
Like how much joy my career brings me.
Like how hard we work on us and how important that is to me.
And how much you realize how important it is to me so you try too.
Like how I get to work out every single day. My body has not failed me yet and I still get to move and get stronger and better.
Like how calm the water is when Pearl and I go for a walk.
Like how much our puppy loves to go for a walk and how happy she is.
Like having Pearl in our lives at all and realizing there is a true lover of love out there that puts all others to shame.
Like how she gives hugs.
Like how Cole still gives me little guy smooches.
Like how Anna still wraps her arms around me and gives me soft kisses on my nose.
Like our traditions and how important they still are to the kids.
Like my business that keeps me on my toes but doesn't make me feel stepped on.
Like how amazing rain sounds falling on our home.
Like how beautiful the world is covered in white snow.
Like how wonderful it is when the weather turns and we start to feel free outside.
Like how much I adore our Friday nights.
Like how much I look forward to our Sunday dinners
Like how we figured out how to heal before it was too late.
Like how we have each other.

It may well be that those whose work is their pleasure are those who most need the means of banishing it at intervals from their minds. – WINSTON CHURCHILL 

Mr. Churchill, hell to the yes!

It is no secret that I love to work.
I love love love it.
I love to feel the hum of my work.
I love the way I feel when I'm working.
I love that I am good at it.
I love how I can problem-solve.
I love my team.
I love how well they know me, I love how well we balance each other.
I love love love my work and I love love love to work.

It may well be that those whose work is their pleasure are those who most need the means of banishing it at intervals from their minds.

I love my new business.
I love the work I'm doing.
I love how well it's going.
I love the ups and the downs.
I love how I can do it anywhere, anytime.
If I have extra time, I will find work to do, there is always work to do.
I love love love my work and I love love love to work.

It may well be that those whose work is their pleasure are those who most need the means of banishing it at intervals from their minds.

But I am someone who, once upon a time, loved her work to actual death.
I am someone who, once upon a time, became only her work.
I am someone who, once upon a time, only had her work and became so unbalanced, overworked, and exhausted that I loved my work to death.
Actual death.
I killed my love, my joy, my hum. I killed the love love love that I have for my work and my love love love to work.

It may well be that those whose work is their pleasure are those who most need the means of banishing it at intervals from their minds.

So, it's different now.
It HAS to be.
Now, do I actually banish it from my mind? No.
Do I take long breaks meaning days/weeks away? No.
Do I take actual breaks in my day-to-day? Yes.
Do I find other things that bring me joy/make me feel whole? Yes.
Have I found my balance? Hell yes.

I once again found my hum.
My steps.
My joy. My love love love of work and my love love love to work.
I found out what it looks like to finally figure it out.

"Surround yourself with relentless humans.
People who plan in decades, but live in moments.
Train like savages, but create like artists.
Obsess in work, relax in life.
People who know this is finite, and choose to play infinite games.
Find people scaling mountains. Climb together."

When I tuck you in at night, or when we are having a quiet moment, I whisper..."remember to always be you, because you're the best you I know."

And I forgot this message, or maybe I never learned it, for myself.

I have spent the last 18 months making myself smaller.
I have been made to feel as though I am too much.
I have been told I am too much.
I have definitely felt like I am too much.
Too open, too all in, too emotional, too sensitive.
I am too much to take.
I take too much on.
I have too many requirements.
I have too many moments to celebrate, no one can keep up.
I have too many routines.
I am crazy, no, too crazy.
I am too much to take.

And, it's all true.

So I retreated to become less.
And where I landed was being less me.
Less vibrant, less passionate, less loving, less interested.

"Your light may irritate a lot of unhealed people.
Shine anyway."

I have tried to fit into a more stable box.
One that has a nice tight lid.
One that is smaller in size.
One that does not take up space.

I wanted to be unseen, unheard, uninvolved.

And, it still wasn't enough.

I was still sought out.
I was still called names.
I still felt hurt, and very seen.
I was left feeling inside out and outside in.

I got even smaller.
I was more quiet. I was more withdrawn.
I hid. All the while, smiling through it.

It is my year of self respect.
It was time for me to look at myself to see what I was doing to attract pain...I am the common denominator.

All while I was telling you two to be who you are. At your core. Don't let this world change you. Try and allow your light to change the world...even when it gets hard.

"remember to always be you, because you're the best you I know."

So then I started calling myself names.
Hypocrite. Unauthentic. Maybe there is something wrong with my heart. Maybe my issues are that I am searching for something that can't be filled externally. I am just too damn much.

Or. Maybe it's not about me at all.
Or. Maybe it is.

Maybe it says something about me that I am searching.
Maybe it says something about me that I am in pain.
Maybe it says something about me that I do love hard.
Maybe it says something about me that I feel energy and emotions and can pick up on the room's energy.
Maybe it says something about me that people can feel my energy.

Maybe it is way too much.
Maybe I exhaust myself and others.
Maybe there is a lighter, smaller, easier way.
Maybe I can live a smaller life.

"remember to always be you, because you're the best you I know."

I do not have nor do I want a smaller life.
I do not live nor do I want to live in a glimmer-less world.
I do not want to pretend that the little things are special.
I do not want to smile through it.
I do not want to be closed off.
I do not want to not love with all I have.
I do not want to be less obsessed with what I love.

I want to plan in decades, because I see you in my future.
I want to be the one that shows up, because I love you.
I want to be the one you can count on, because I am here.
I want to be the one that understands you can't talk right now, because sometimes time is the best medicine.
I want to be the lover of life.
I want to be as passionate as I am.
I want to cry when things move me.
I want to laugh when things are funny.
I want to remember that there are dark corners everywhere so I'm okay celebrating light.
I want to tell you how beautiful you are because I believe it.
I want to listen to you, because life can be a lot and we all need good listeners.
I want to love what I love because it moves me.
I want to love a book so much I don't want it to end. And I want to be okay with the fact that I'm actually sad that it did end.
I want to be obsessed with our lives - because sometimes, it is so beautiful it could be a dream.
I want to be all in, because I'm an all in girl.
I want to be a light, because I know how dark it can get.
I want to be and am madly in love with a puppy we adopted. Because it is crazy how much I love her.
I want to find peace, love, relaxation in long rainy days. I want to linger in the sound.
I want to find comfort and warmth in snow days. I want to linger in the cozy.
I want to be obsessed with my work because I love love love to work. Because I am a relentless human.
I want to love how much I train like a savage. I put effort into me, my body, my health, my mind, my care. Because I am a relentless human.
I want to be the one you find to scale that mountain with. Because I am a relentless human.
I want to okay with being me. Because I am a relentless human.

"remember to always be you, because you're the best you I know."

To my littles and to myself...
"Keep good company, read good books, love good things and cultivate soul and body as faithfully as you can" - Louisa May Alcott

One does not ‘find oneself’ by pursuing one’s self, but on the contrary by pursuing something else and learning through some discipline or routine … who one is and wants to be. - May Sarton

Oh, but say it again!
Whisper sweet nothings in my ear about routine and discipline and finding yourself in the pursuit of something else, something outside of you.
Oh May Sarton, it's as if you climbed into my mind and took a look around and came up with poetry that you wrote just for me.

Yes, say it again.

It was in the pursuit of my need to leave that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of my work that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of finding more than my work, that I found myself.

Yes, say it again.

It was in the pursuit of finding a family that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of finding joyful, comfortable, real love, that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of seeing if and how hard I can do hard things, that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of proving myself, first to them, then to me, that I found myself.
It was in the pursuit of no longer proving anything to anyone, including me, that I found myself.

Yes, say it again.

It was in the pursuit of balance, that I really found myself.

Yes, say it again.

It was and is through discipline.
It was and is through the routine.
It was and is through the freedom that comes with knowing what I am doing and how and when.
It was and is through love...my love.
Through others, my community, my people, my heart, my love of others, and my need to fill up a loss, I find myself...again and again and again.

Yes, say it again.

We all spend so much time talking/thinking/worrying about happiness.
Being happy all of the time.
Being happy with our marriages, our careers, our choices, our parenting, our kids, our homes, our lives.
Being so out of control in love with happiness that we actually worry about it.
I am no exception to this.
I too always thought that finding your joy is the reason for life.

Finding your joy.
Getting through the hard because at the other side is what you've worked for and that will bring you joy.

But, as I have entered into the most embraced and loved decade of my life, I have found out that of course, life isn't always happy all of the time.
Your career will fulfill you until it does not.
Your marriage will spark joy in your toes until you hit a fog so thick and heavy you can't see each other anymore.
Your children will make your insides hurt with such love, joy, and appreciation of life - until you look at them with such rage and craze that you're not sure who you are anymore.
Your home needs constant upkeep and draws out wants.
Your friends change, your life changes, your kids get older, things get easier, then harder again.

So, there is no such thing as happy all of the time.
And what I have found, even when things got heavy and hurtful and sad - are glimmers.

There are also glimmers - and they are all around us.

Glimmers of joy, hope, love.
Glimmers of memories that keep you warm.
Glimmers of smiles that make you fall in love.
Glimmers of puppy kisses, snuggles, and deep periods of sleep that make you feel relaxed just by watching her.
Glimmers of great shows, great music, great stories.
Glimmers of friends, the new, the old, the ones that know you.

There are glimmers of the old you and the new person you are.
There are glimmers of who you no longer are.
There are glimmers of deep joy, the kind that takes over again.

There are glimmers when you have to walk a stubborn parent to his death, and help a mother cope with life after.
Glimmers like the humor you find as a family.
Glimmers like your unit pulling for you in every way.
Glimmers like your person going through it with you, and feeling a closeness like you couldn't have imagined.

There are glimmers when you and your spouse can't navigate parenting.
Glimmers like tucking them in at night together and talking about the good sweet parts of the day.
Glimmers like picking each other, each and every day.
Glimmers like watching a show or movie that you know will make you connect.

There are glimmers when the career that defines you

There are glimmers when I get into my car and listen to music that makes me feel things.
There are glimmers when I slip into bed, grab a good book, and touch toes with you.
There are glimmers when I snuggle in on the couch with Pearl.
There are glimmers when we go out to dinner and I look across the table at you, the one I get to spend this life with.
There are glimmers when I watch them sleep.
There are glimmers when I see him with friends.
There are glimmers when I work out with her.
There are glimmers when she talks about her squad.
There are glimmers when we laugh together.
There are glimmers when we travel and everyone reconnects.
There are glimmers when I am in a good routine and I feel like me.
There are glimmers when I am done folding laundry.
There are glimmers when I'm done with my run.
There are glimmers when I'm done with a shower.
There are glimmers when I listen to Pearl snore.
There are glimmers when I see they inherited how your tongue sticks out of your mouth when you are all thinking and concentrating.
There are glimmers when our son hugs me.
There are glimmers when our daughter and I walk together.
There are glimmers when I hear rain, see our world turn gray.
And there are glimmers when it snows, and everything is covered in white.

So, when things feel unbearable, when life is a slog, find glimmers lovies.
Glimmers of hope, love, joy, peace.
Trust me, they are right in front of you.