Childhoodtake2!

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.

Recently, I have been thinking about past loves.
And when your time together ends, where does all the love go?
For some, it is pushed out of their minds. Put into compartments.
That was then, with them...this is now without them.
For others, they can look back fondly and remember those times with warmth and gratitude but still move on.
And for others still, the love creeps up and comes out.

It comes up in dreams.
It comes up with tears flowing down your face during a run.
It comes up as you close your eyes at night.
It comes up on gray and rainy days.

For some, the love is lost.
For others, it remains a memory keeping you warm like a blanket.
And for others still, it feels a little too heavy to carry all of the time, so it comes out sideways.

And maybe grief walks you through all three stages.
There are days it feels too heavy, other days it feels gone, and others till where it feels warm and comforting.

Because to be loved and to love is truly beautiful.
It is so raw and real.
It should be a whole body experience where the I love yous just pour out.
To be surrounded in that beauty, even for a little while, is special.
And it's a special time with that person. You are sharing something together.
You are in on it together.
This connection, this bond, this feeling.

So if that time ends, if you are in a position of mourning that love, grieving that time, just make sure you handle it the way you feel you need to.
If you need to push it out of your mind to survive, then do so.
If you need to push it out of your mind because you have moved on and thinking about it differently is pointless, then do so.
If you need to linger and feel the weight of that love and cry yourself to sleep, then do so.
And if there are moments that it comes rolling back in, to remind you of a special time, with someone you loved, allow the memory.

Because for some...
The love is lost.
For others, it remains a memory keeping you warm like a blanket.
And for others still, it feels a little too heavy to carry all of the time, so it comes out sideways.

The only way to describe us in the very beginning is easy.

It was so easy to fall in love with you. Joy, laughter, lightness; it all came so easily for us.

Our days together were filled with easy living, with our only responsibility being city walks with a little dog we treated like our first baby.

Finding family with you was easy, too. You were my joy, you were filled with it, and you stole my heart with the ease you brought to my life.

You were my balance, my reason, my family.

As the fog rolled into our marriage and things got harder, it was harder to find us, but you quickly pivoted. You became our rock, you kept our feet on the ground, you were the one who held me, held us, and reminded me that we fit, our love fits, and phases come and go. You cleared the fog, not with your joy, but with love and strength.

As the pendulum now sits squarely in the middle, somewhere between finding the ease again, finding the joy and lighthearted couple we were, and times of such extreme hard it visibly ages us, you continue to be my balance.

You, Cory, are my reason. We joke about how you think I gave us this life. But look around us. Everything we have, everything we are, it is all because you believed in us, and believed we could. Your joy in the early days took away my fear of family and commitment, your love took away my fear of mothering and parenthood, and your stable foundation gave me all I never knew I always wanted.

You turned our house into a home. You said yes to puppy love, snuggles, and kisses. You made sure I became the mother I always wanted to be, and because of you, two of the best people I know came from our love and stand here with us as two of the most beautiful and kind-hearted people. Two people you see so much potential in, and because of you, will live up to it in every way.

Because of you, I am surrounded in love, joy, comfort, and family.

I owe you everything, my entire life. So the very least I can promise you is my everlasting love; I will love you until my very last breath.

You were, are, and will always be…

My balance, my life, my family.

Olive juice coach.

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.

"You can't skip chapters, that's not how life works.
You have to read every line, meet every character.
You won't enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters will make you cry for weeks.
You will read things you don't want to read, you will have moments where you don't want the pages to end.
But you have to keep going.
Stories keep the world revolving.
Live yours, don't miss out."

There are chapters I go back and re-read.
Over and over again.
Chapters like my college years.
Chapters like the beginning with Dad.
Chapters like the beginning with you both.
Chapters like our traditions, our trips, our Friday night snuggles.
Chapters like the adoption of all three of our puppies.
Chapters like all of your firsts, all of them.
Chapters like how long you lingered in childhood.
Chapters like how I would watch you sleep, and it was almost so precious that it hurt.

Then, there are chapters I wish I could skip.
But, if I skipped them, I would miss too much.
Like the seven chapters of fog that rolled in on us, if I never reread those pages, I would miss the beginning of Cole.
I would miss so so many firsts that I could not imagine pouring over those pages.
I would miss our first family trip.
I would miss so much joy.
And I would miss a very important lesson about family, how difficult things can get, but how loving they can still be.
I would miss the lesson that two things can always be true at the same exact time.

If I skipped the chapters of heartache, the ones where I had so much loss and disconnection...
Then I wouldn't have the chapters of love, warmth, and connection that brought on the heartache.
Heartache, grief, loss, it doesn't come without love, longing, and incredible memories.

So no, I can't skip those times..
I want to remember the good, even if it ended in ways I would not want.
Even if it ended in ways I would want.
I have to remember it all.
Luckily, my memory wouldn't allow me to forget.
I have it all locked in, at all times. Ready to recall.

I love you guys.
And if I don't say it enough, I'm so lucky to be your mom.
I am so proud of the books we have written together.
I cannot wait to see the ones you write on your own, but thank you for the most amazing library that fills our home.

Three years of therapy in 60 seconds...

#1. Turns out, your parents did the best they could AND fucked you up. But guess what, you still have to deal with it.
#2. No one is coming to save you. No magical mentor, no secret billionaire uncle, not even Batman. It's just you. And yeah, that includes doing basic stuff like doing laundry before it becomes your roommate.
#3. Boundaries. That doesn't mean blocking someone on Instagram. Say it with me..."no". With a smiley face..."no". See, revolutionary. You don't have to be mean or rude.
#4. Stop chasing people who treat you like a fucking option. I'm not a side quest, and if they can't see that, they need to go play someone else's game.
#5. Self-care isn't having bath bombs and face masks. It's getting eight hours of sleep, eating something that came out of the ground, and taking care of that email before it ruins your whole week.
#6. Feelings don't kill you. Crying won't kill you. Screaming into a pillow won't kill you. But ignoring your feelings? Oh, that's going to destroy you from the inside out.
#7. This one's my favorite.
You don't find yourself, you build yourself. Day by day. Some days you're leveling up, and other days, you're starting from square one on a whole new project. Both of them count.
Last one.
#8. Most of the time, it's not that deep. You're not cursed. You're just tired. Or thirsty and due for a snack.

There you go. @devin.the.one just saved you 15 grand in a 60-second rant. You can Venmo him $5 directly.

Part of your 20s are so easy.
Part of your 30s are so difficult.
Part of your 40s are so confusing.
Because you have time again and you love that.
You have space again and you needed that.
You have yourself again and you forgot who you were for a minute.
You have the ability to think again and you do think.
You think about your choices.
Your decisions.
Your regrets.
Your path forward.
Your anger.
Your concerns.
Your blessings.
Your luck.
Your work.
Your work ethic.
Your family.
Your person.
Your life.

Part of getting over your past is feeling very confused.
Because there is a part of you that needs to let go and be who you are. There are no more excuses.
This is you now. You are not just your past; you are also who you decided you would be. A combination of the past and the decisions you made to create a new future.

Confusing because there is part of you that wants to shout that you shouldn't even be here. You've done so so much with so so little.
Part of getting over your history is reliving it.
Part of getting over yourself is realizing how unspecial you are.
Part of building yourself back up again is reminding yourself that you are special.
You did take something awful and made it great.
You did build something out of nothing.
You built a life where one should not be.

Part of healing is having to remember you are so not perfect.
You will make so many mistakes.
You will have a tantrum because you feel so unseen, so unheard.
And you are reminded of how others see you, and how that isn't always good.
Because you're a person too and you get to make so many mistakes.

Part of remembering where you came from is screaming out, from your gut.
Taking up space and believing that can be okay, you have space you too should take up.
Stop shrinking.
Stop allowing others make you feel so small.
Stop crouching.

Part of living is losing.
Part of it is giving up.
Part of it is not giving up.
Part of it is letting go.
Part of it is holding on for dear life.
Part of it is trying so so hard to show yourself some grace, some actual compassion.

Part of growing up is incredible.
It's incredible.
Part of it is so lonely.
So very very lonely.
In your friendships, in your marriage, in your world.
Happy, fulfilled, doing all the right things, lonely, scared, sacrificing, stumped.

Part of being human is so complicated.

But I don’t think of the future, or the past, I feast on the moment. This is the secret of happiness, but only reached now in middle age. –VIRGINIA WOOLF

I was recently walking and listening to a podcast.
One built on happiness.
One built on happiness - how science defines it - and what the studies have shown.
And here is the secret that's not really a secret at all.

Happiness is three-fold.
1. Whimsical fun. Doing things that bring you joy and that you enjoy doing.
2. Deep social connections. People that bring you warmth and comfort.
3. Inner peace. Simplicity. No longer worrying about the past or future. But finding the simple slow joy out of the moment right before you.

If you look at all three, it makes all the sense in the world!
Do things that make you happy.
Be with people that make you happy.
Be in a moment that makes you happy.

But, here's the thing lovies.
When you are in the middle of life.
Raising kids, working on a career, building a business, building a home, being a spouse/partner/friend/parent/person...these are the things that tend to slip away.

And the happiness that fills in the creases and crevasses are pure gold, but they do not fall into these buckets.

And then, you hit middle age.
And your kids are people that have their own lives.
And your body is yours again.
And your spouse is yours again.
And the career settles.
And the home settles.
And your life settles.
And you have time to think about your happiness.
And you realize, these are the three things you need right now.

Because a baby laughing is no longer your norm.
Because a toddler trying to say a tricky word is no longer your reality.
Because arms reaching for you are no longer there.
Because, it's time to focus more on you.

And that is where I now stand.
I am ready to focus on myself and do what I need to be happier.

I want to focus on things that bring me joy, make me laugh, make me feel happy.
I want to surround myself with people that mean a lot to me, again.
I want to get back to simple, I want to sit in this moment in time.
I want things to look forward to.
I want things to look back on with fondness.
I want to be a happier person.

I want to live again.
I want to love again.
I want to laugh again.
I want to breathe freely again.
I want to rest again.
I want breaks again.
I want to find the slow and steady of life...again.
I am ready for middle age goals.

To mother means something, to love like one means everything.

I am not your everything, you are not mine. But together, we are everything I ever wanted to be.
As I enter my 15th year of motherhood I have learned that

• I miss my babies
• I have made so many mistakes but have no regrets
• I apologize often
• I remember so much of your childhood and believe I always will
• You continue to teach and lead, I continue to learn and follow
• You will always be more ready than I am and I just have to take a deep breath and trust
• You are the best people I know
• You are who I want to be more like

I still want you to know that

• There is nothing you can do to make me love you more or less.
• I am still learning. Anna, you are forever and always my first attempt. Cole, you will forever and always want and need to do it differently so I'm still learning.
• I am so so happy that I picked the bigger life and decided to say yes to motherhood. You are my best decision.
• You both make me melt with pride. And love. And like. And amazement. You make me melt with all of it.
• I might actually love you more than Pearl. Maybe. Kind of. Sometimes. When the moon and stars align just right.
• I wanted this life. I never ever knew it, but I wanted this exact life.
• Your dad always knew you would be a part of his story.
• You have honored me and given me the privilege of having a front-row seat to this life you are making for yourself.
• I am in love with you.

To mother means something, to love like one means everything.

To love like a mother means that I would give up my life for you, but not who I am.
I would give up my breath, but not my air.
I would give up my ability to walk and talk, but not my voice and rhythm.

I have gone through the stages of infant-to baby-to toddler-to child- to big kid-to teenager.
I have loved like only a mother can. As only a mother can.
I have loved with all that I have and all that I was.
I love with all that I have and all that I am.
I have broken up with myself and my person and my old life.
I have found a new me, a new us, a new life.
I am grateful to you for all that we are.

To mother means something, to love like one means everything.

I lost my heart.
And you did too.

I lost who I was and what I love most about myself.
And you did too.

I lost my smile and any ease I had (which already was so little).
And you did too.

I felt lost.
Like I couldn't even imagine who I was anymore.
Or who I wanted to be because I felt so alone.
I couldn't image what I would become if I didn't have this heart to lead my way.
I felt uncomfortable.
Like I still wanted to shine, but I also needed and wanted to hide.
I wanted to continue just loving the parts of me that I loved and grow the parts of me that need growth, but I also wanted to go the hell away.
But you did not.

I lost my heart.
And you did too.

We talk a lot about how I am feeling through it all.
Not because we don't recognize the change in you, but because I need to talk it out. And I need to do that with you.
We don't talk about the change in you and there are times you won't acknowledge your change at all.
But, we lost our hearts. We lost who we are, who we fell in love with.
Not out of growth, but out of pain and stress and pressure.

I lost my heart.
And you did too.

I do not know how to find it again or who I will be from here on out.
As for you, you are starting to come to grips with your change. You are starting to realize you want to find who you were and bring that person back into our light.
You are finding your softer edges and your joy again. You are finding your heart, who you were - who you always were - and who you still are.

I lost my heart.
And you did too.
I lost who I was.
And you did too.
I lost who I wanted to be.
And I'm still quite a bit lost.

I will work on me because you are working on you.
I will work on what I will now become because you are getting back to who you were.

I lost my heart.
And you did too.