If you'd told me 15 years ago I'd write books, poems, and songs, I would have laughed until my ribs ached.

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And if you said they'd detail my brightest hopes and my darkest fears, I would have frozen.

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Know why? Because I was logical. Like Spock. Driven. I didn't do touchy feely. I lived in a world of numbers: EBITDA, engagement, and turnover. I wasn't creative because i didn't inherit it.

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I was good at work, though. I co-founded and ran a tech company for fifteen years, half of it in parallel with a corporate job. But running a tech company wasn't my dream.

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So I focused on what I thought was. Leading HR with international impact, major org changes, and people solutions for a $1 billion project.

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I got the title, the pay, and the authority. Everything I'd always wanted.

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Then I fell onto the kitchen floor and wailed like a banshee.

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Then poetry started flowing. Out of nowhere. Out of everywhere.

But still I wasn't creative.

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Here's the other part I didn't see coming.

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When the operations shut down, I scrambled and knocked on the corporate door over 300 times. I counted. See? That's how logical I still was: even in desperation. Every door led away from corporate but I didn't want to see it.

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By then, I'd written so many poems I figured I should publish a book. But I didn't know how to start. So I didn't.

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Reluctantly, I started HR consulting. It took partnering with over 2,000 leaders to realize I love coaching and mentoring. 

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Then a friend published her book and walked me through the process. I wrote my first draft in a weekend.  To help me polish it, I hired a writing coach and an editor. From the Shadows was born; the book I never planned to write, much less share, about my biggest failures.

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Then I took voice lessons to sing one song I wrote for the book. I couldn't hit the high note.

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Ten years and many songs later, the voice lessons weren't just about the note anymore. They were a parallel journey for my voice, my actual voice, that said maybe I am creative.

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Other patterns began to surface. Once I saw them clearly, not only couldn't I unsee them, I could also shift them. Deeper and deeper I went. The more I explored the shadows, the brighter the sun shone.

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Memories surfaced I hadn't allowed myself to face before. But I was ready, and they healed.

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When I offered compassion and forgiveness to all the versions of myself that came before: the logical one, the driven one, the one who kept knocking on closed doors, the one who feared she was unloveable, something happened that I still don't have adequate words for.

All the versions of myself sat on the floor in a circle, held hands, and loved ourselves.

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I embodied a wholeness I hadn't known was possible.

Living a life I could have never dreamed.

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And I knew I needed to invite others.

To be their partner along the way.

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That's who I am.

That's what I offer.

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By the way, still logical, and I blend it with love.