Redefining Success: What If Peace Was the New Productivity?

We've been taught to measure success by how much we can do, earn, and achieve. Constant motion. More meetings. Bigger paychecks. Louder hustle. That’s the story we’ve been sold.

But what if success wasn’t about doing more—but about feeling more?
What if success looked like alignment, peace, joy, and sustainability?

There’s a big difference between what success looks like and what it feels like.

In my world, success feels like presence.
It feels like freedom. Like coming home to yourself.
It feels like a quiet morning with coffee and a sunrise.
Like a long, unhurried lunch with someone who really sees you.
Like saying yes to the concert, then singing until your voice is gone.
It feels like belly laughter, warm hugs, bonfires with your people.
Like hiking up the mountain and actually pausing to take in the view.

Sure, success can look like polished moments—new cars, glowing posts, shiny promotions, vacation photos. But the real success? The lasting kind?

It feels like peace.
It feels like you being fully, unapologetically alive.

Traditional hustle culture will try to convince you that you’re not enough until you land the next promotion, hit the next milestone, or secure the next shiny achievement.

Let me be clear: success matters to me.
Chasing your boldest, most audacious dreams matters deeply.

But here’s the question—at what cost?

What are you sacrificing when you only focus on how success looks instead of how it feels?

I know that path well. I spent years—decades, even—chasing the version of success I was taught to want.
I followed the rules. I climbed the ladder. I collected titles.
And I wore my burnout like a badge of honor.

Take 5 minutes today and ask yourself: What does success feel like for me—truly?
Then take one small step this week that moves you closer to that.
Maybe it’s rest. Maybe it’s setting a boundary. Maybe it’s saying yes to joy.

Whatever it is, trust that it counts.
Because you count. And your version of success is worth building.

The Power of Micro-Moments: Small Choices That Shape Your Legacy

We spend so much of our lives focused on the big moments.
We chase them, set our eyes on the next milestone, the next achievement, the next title or promotion. We dream of the biggest house, the nicest car, the picture-perfect life. And when those big moments finally come, or don’t, they pass. Just like that, and we have forgotten about the journey we took to even get there.

We spend weeks, months, years, even decades, chasing the macro moments. Society has taught us that once we achieve one macro moment, do better on the next, go harder, achieve more.

But what if you shifted your perspective?
What if you stopped chasing the big, shiny milestones and started paying attention to the micro moments instead?

So what are micro moments?

They’re the tiny, often unnoticed pieces of your day that carry real meaning.
The FaceTime call with your best friend on a Tuesday night.
The spontaneous coffee run with someone you love.
The “I’m proud of you” text that turns someone’s whole day around.
A friend sharing a song with you because it made you think of them.
Listening to that song on repeat for the next six weeks.
Dinner around the table, surrounded by your closest people.
The kind of laugh that makes your cheeks hurt and your eyes water.

It’s the compassion you show when someone feels invisible.
It’s handwritten snail mail.
It’s the conversation with a stranger in a parking lot.
It’s the “good morning” you offer on your daily walk.

Legacy is something I think about every single day.
Not just what I did or achieved, but how I made people feel.
Because in the end, it’s not the promotion from spring 2022 that they’ll remember.
It’s that you got coffee with them when they were having a hard day.
It’s that you showed up when it mattered most.

Micro moments become your legacy.

So stop waiting for the next big thing.
Start living the small ones.
Start showing up.
Start noticing.
Start creating the kind of life that people feel.

The Emerging Leader’s Playbook: 5 Habits That Will Set You Apart

1. Ask Great Questions

Strong leaders don’t need all the answers, they know how to ask the right questions. Too often, emerging leaders feel pressure to prove themselves by having it all figured out. But that mindset can quickly become toxic and unsustainable.

The best leaders don’t give all the answers, they guide others toward finding their own. They empower rather than direct. So ask more questions. Stay curious. Whether you’re in a team meeting or grabbing coffee with a mentor, listen more than you speak.

Curiosity builds trust faster than confidence ever could.

2. Take Initiative Before You Feel Ready

Great leaders don’t wait for permission or the perfect title—they show up before they feel 100% ready.

If you see a gap, fill it.
If something’s broken, try to fix it.
If you have an idea, share it.

Growth doesn’t happen when you wait. It happens in motion. You already have gifts, talents, and instincts worth showing. Don’t dim them, let them shine.

3. Lead with Empathy, Always

People don’t follow titles, they follow people who make them feel seen. Empathy is your edge. It’s one of the most underrated (and powerful) leadership tools you can use.

Learn to read the room. Support your teammates. Ask how people are really doing.

True leadership isn’t about standing above others, it’s about standing beside them.

4. Own Your Mistakes and Share Your Wins

Integrity builds influence. The most respected leaders are the ones who take full ownership when they mess up, because they will mess up. We all do.

Failure isn’t a weakness. It’s part of the process. What matters is how you take accountability, how you respond, and how you lead through it.

And when things go right? Share the credit. Celebrate others. Self-awareness and humility go farther than perfection ever could.

5. Protect Your Energy Like It’s a Leadership Asset (Because It Is)

Leadership isn't just about what you do, it’s about how you show up.
Protecting your energy through rest, routines, and boundaries is one of the most effective ways to lead well.

Burnout isn’t a badge of honor. Don’t lead your team to exhaustion. Model boundaries. Model well-being. And give others permission to do the same.

When you’re well, you lead well. And that ripples outward.

Leading Like You Host: Creating Connection in Every Room You Walk Into

Hosting is one of my love languages. There’s something deeply meaningful about inviting people into my home, cooking for them, and creating space for real connection under my roof. Hosting brings me peace, purpose, and a sense of comfort—and I’ve come to realize, it’s also a powerful leadership tool.

There’s an art to hosting well. It’s more than just setting the table or preparing a meal. It’s about how you make people feel. A great host creates an environment where others feel seen, welcomed, appreciated, and nourished—both physically and emotionally.

Now, imagine bringing that same energy into how you lead.

The best leaders do exactly what the best hosts do:
They see people.
They welcome people.
They create connection.
They engage.
They make others feel like they belong.

Whether you’re leading a team, running a meeting, or walking into a room full of strangers, approach it like a host. Engage your host energy. Pay attention to who’s present. Who might feel left out? Who needs encouragement? Who can you draw in? Who can you connect together?

Leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice or having the corner office. It’s about your presence, how you show up, how you make others feel, and how you create space for connection and collaboration.

So here’s your challenge:
Lead like you host.
Bring warmth, attentiveness, and intention into every room you walk into.
Because connection isn't just a leadership skill, it's a legacy.

You Are Already Worthy (Yes, Right Now)

Let’s get one thing straight — your worth is not up for debate.

You don’t have to earn it.
You don’t have to prove it.
You don’t have to hustle yourself into being “enough.”

You already are.

In a world that constantly pushes us to do more, be more, and show more — it’s easy to start believing that we are only as valuable as our latest achievement.
It’s easy to tie our worth to our productivity, our titles, our income, our appearance, or even our ability to hold it all together.

But here’s the truth I need you to hear today:
You are worthy, simply because you exist.

Not when you lose the weight.
Not when you hit the next goal.
Not when you finally have it “all figured out.”
Right now. As you are.

You are allowed to rest without earning it.
You are allowed to take up space, speak up, show up, and make mistakes — and still be enough.

You’re allowed to be soft and strong.
You’re allowed to not have a five-year plan.
You’re allowed to feel joy, even in the middle of healing.
You’re allowed to be proud of yourself — just for making it through the day.

Your worth is not measured by your productivity.
It’s in the way you love.
The way you keep going.
The way you care, try, create, give, and show up — even when it’s hard.

So if you’re doubting yourself today, if you’re feeling small or behind or invisible…
Please hear me when I say:
You are not too much. You are not not enough. You are exactly who you’re meant to be.

You don’t need to shrink to fit someone else’s comfort.
You don’t need to wait for permission to belong.
You already do.

You were never meant to hustle for your worth.
You were born with it.

So go ahead — walk into this day like someone who knows they’re valuable.
Because you are.

And if you forget for a moment, that’s okay. Come back to this. I’ll remind you as many times as you need.

You Deserve to Be Spoken to with Kindness — Especially by Yourself

Hey love, let’s check in for a second.
How are you speaking to yourself today?

If your inner voice has been a little harsh lately — overly critical, constantly pushing, or whispering that you’re not doing enough — I want to gently interrupt that narrative.

Because here's the truth:
You deserve to be spoken to with the same love, grace, and compassion that you give everyone else.

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned to be our own worst critic.
We internalized the idea that if we’re hard enough on ourselves, we’ll improve. That if we just push harder, we’ll finally be “enough.”
But that constant pressure? It doesn’t make you stronger — it just makes you tired.
And more than anything, it makes it harder to hear the softer, truer voice underneath: the one that knows you are already worthy.

You are allowed to be a work in progress and still speak to yourself with respect.
You are allowed to want more for yourself and still offer love to the person you are today.
You can hold ambition in one hand and gentleness in the other.

So if no one’s told you this today:

• You’re doing better than you think.

• It’s okay to be proud of yourself, even if you haven’t reached the end goal yet.

• Resting doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

• Being kind to yourself is not a luxury — it’s a necessity.

Talk to yourself like you would talk to your best friend.
Speak to yourself like someone you’re rooting for — because you are.
Every single day, you’re showing up and trying again. And that deserves kindness.

Next time your inner critic gets loud, pause and ask:
Would I say this to someone I love?
If not, don’t say it to yourself.

Rewriting the way we speak to ourselves doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a practice — and you’re allowed to be imperfect in it. What matters is that you start.

Start with:
“I’m doing my best.”
“I’m allowed to take up space.”
“I can be both growing and grateful.”
“I am already enough.”

Let’s make kindness the new standard — starting with how we speak to the person in the mirror.

You deserve that. You’ve always deserved that.
And I’m so proud of you for even reading this — because it means you're ready to speak a little softer.

What I Thought Success Was — and What It Actually Is Now

When I was a teenager, I had a crystal-clear image of what success looked like.
To me, it meant being rich — in the material, shiny, show-it-off kind of way.
I dreamed of the corner office, power suits, sleek cars, and luxury vacations.
I wanted a high-rise life: five-star dinners, first-class flights, and a business card with an impressive title.

Success was hustle. Success was status. Success was proving myself.

I chased that vision for years — working longer hours, taking on more projects, constantly climbing toward more. I thought the finish line would feel like arrival. I thought once I had it, I’d feel fulfilled.

But life, as it does, had a different plan.
It stripped things away. It slowed me down.
It brought loss, grief, and perspective — and with it, a new definition of success I could’ve never imagined back then.

Today, rich looks completely different.

Rich is evenings around the table with people I love — simple meals, full hearts, deep laughter.
It’s slow mornings, the kind where you actually taste your coffee.
It’s running into an old friend in town and picking up right where you left off.
It’s spontaneous road trips to familiar places that hold your memories.
It’s a local restaurant with unforgettable taquitos, served with passion by the owner who knows your name.
It’s long walks at dusk, watching the sun kiss the mountains goodnight.

Success now isn’t about the corner office — it’s about creating a life that feels like home.
It’s balance. It’s presence.
It’s the ability to work with purpose, but also know when to shut it down and truly live.

It’s making an impact — not for applause, but because it matters.
It’s inspiring, empowering, and lifting others up.
It’s mentoring, volunteering, and showing up for people the way others once showed up for me.

Some of the most powerful role models in my life weren’t the loudest or the wealthiest — they were the ones who gave their time, their wisdom, and their presence. They were community builders, patient encouragers, and steady voices in seasons of growth and becoming.
They didn’t chase spotlight — they built legacy.
And that’s what I want too.

So no — I didn’t end up in a high-rise office.
I ended up in something better.
I ended up grounded.
Connected.
Rich, in every way that matters.

Success now is alignment. It’s peace. It’s integrity.
And it’s showing up for this life — not to impress, but to fully live it.

The True Flex: Choosing Connection Over Busy

There is so much power in being surrounded by people you truly love — and who love you back. Friendship and family are two-way streets, and the people who show up, pour into you, and allow you to do the same for them? They matter. Deeply.

But somewhere along the way, we get lost.
The calendar fills up. The meetings stack. The schedule gets tighter. And slowly, without realizing it, we start skipping Sunday family dinners. We cancel the coffee date with our best friend. We say no to the event we were genuinely looking forward to. Not because we don’t care — but because we’re too busy.

And yet, when I reflect on what really matters, the answer is always simple:
People.

Because without connection, life is just motion.
We move through the day, but we don’t feel rooted in it. We check the boxes, but our hearts stay empty.

When we choose to prioritize the people we love — to truly see them, spend time with them, and be present with them — everything shifts. When we view life through the lens of love, we fill our cups. And from that overflow, we’re able to pour into our families, our communities, and our work with far more intention and joy.

So let me say this clearly:
Stop wearing “I’m too busy to connect” as a badge of honor.
It’s not a flex. It’s not something to brag about.
Being busy isn’t the goal. Being present is.

I used to tell myself I couldn’t take a weekend to visit my hometown because “I had too much going on.” But if I could go back and speak to that version of me, I’d say:
Your job? It will survive without you.
Your company? Still thriving.
But your parents?
They’re gone.

I would give anything to sit at that table again. To say yes to dinner. To take the trip. To show up.

So today, I’m reminding you — and myself — to choose connection.
Text the friend. Drive to see your family. Put your phone away. Be there.
Listen. Love. Show up.
Because tomorrow isn’t promised.

Chasing Roots: A Reflection on Grief, Growth, and Coming Home to Myself

I was 29 when my mom passed away, and 30 when I lost my dad. The past three years have been a journey through deep grief - a season of feeling, healing, and reflecting.

When I look back on my life, it’s clear: my parents made me who I am. They believed in me endlessly. They never told me a dream was too big, too wild, or too far away. Their belief became my foundation.

One of my earliest memories is from a camping trip in Arizona when I was four or five. We had just left Las Vegas, and back in the '90s, the best souvenir a kid could collect from casinos were those plastic coin buckets. When we got to our campsite, I got to work. I filled those buckets with “premium” Arizona dirt, topped them with the finest sticks I could find, and dragged a camp table around to the back of our RV. I made a sign: “For Sale: $20.”
I sold out in 20 minutes.
That was my first business. And looking back, I think it taught me something I’ve carried ever since — anything is possible when you believe in it.

Growing up, I was deeply involved in 4-H. I spent over a decade raising animals, competing in cooking contests, learning to speak in public, and gaining life skills that school couldn’t teach. I eventually earned the highest rank: All Star.

In high school, I joined the City of Redding’s Youth Action Council — a program that gave me leadership opportunities most adults don’t get. I thrived. I learned to lead, collaborate, and contribute to my community in meaningful ways.

And at the heart of all this was our home — always full, always open.
Literally, our front door was rarely closed. Friends, neighbors, and family came and went. We hosted parties, shared meals, and made room for everyone. My childhood bestie, Lacy (shoutout to my forever sister), became family. Mashed potatoes for all.

Now, as I continue to walk through grief, I find myself returning to what mattered most:
I want to make Little Me proud.
I want to give back the way I was poured into.
I want to empower others the way I was empowered.
I want to open my home the way mine was always open.
I want to be surrounded by good people — people who lift each other up.
I want to hobby the way I used to when I was a kid.
I want to grow tomatoes because that’s what my grandpa taught me.
I want to bake because that’s what my mom loved to do.
I want to host gatherings, laugh loud, and love big — because that’s how I was raised.
I want to show up for my town the way my hometown showed up for me.

For so long, I chased the next big thing — the title, the new city, the fresh start. But now, all I really want are my roots.
To shape the world the way it shaped me.
To come home — not just in location, but in purpose.

Why Slowing Down Was the Hardest (and Best) Thing I’ve Ever Done

I grew up in a small town in Northern California. My whole childhood, I couldn’t wait to leave. I’d talk constantly about getting out and moving to a new, different city. And just two months after I turned 18, I did exactly that.

I chased bigger, faster, louder.
First stop: Bend, Oregon. Then Eugene. Then Reno, Nevada.
After six years in Reno, we made our biggest move yet, Phoenix, Arizona.
The big city dream.

I was addicted to the fast pace.
I said yes to every opportunity, side hustles, promotions, new projects, networking events. I craved growth, movement, and momentum. The bigger the city, the more chances to succeed... or so I thought.

And in many ways, it was everything I imagined.
Phoenix had the energy, the opportunity, the hustle.
But it also had something I didn’t expect:
Speed limits that matched the lifestyle — 100mph, all the time.
Quick dinners. Short conversations. Constant motion.
So many people, and yet... so little connection.

Eventually, I realized I wasn’t living — I was racing.
Everything I did felt rushed. Even the things I loved lost their joy in the chaos.

So we made a decision:
Let’s go back to our roots.
We moved back to Northern Nevada: slower, smaller, quieter.
And almost immediately, life shifted.

The literal speed limits dropped.
Strangers waved. Neighbors said hello.
Dinner lasted longer. Coffee dates happened in mugs instead of to-go cups.
We took walks. We chatted with people on the sidewalk. We ate meals outside, without screens.
It felt like a dream. And, honestly, it is the dream.
But embracing it hasn’t been easy.

Sometimes I still ask myself:
Am I doing enough?
Am I falling behind?
Should I be pushing harder?

Here’s what I’ve come to know:
Slowing down doesn’t mean giving up.
It means choosing alignment over urgency.
It means trading burnout for peace.
It means finally hearing yourself again.

And here’s what’s changed since I slowed down:

• My anxiety has quieted.

• I’m sleeping through the night.

• My headaches are gone.

• My soul feels lighter.

• I feel connected — to myself, to others, to life.

For the first time in years, I’m not rushing.
I’m rooted.
I’m fulfilled.
And I’m finally, truly, happy.

Grief Changed Me, And It Made Me a Better Leader

I never expected to find value in my grief. Honestly, during that first year, I woke up every day wishing I could just go back to how things were before I lost my parents. I told myself, “I just want to feel like me again.”

But the truth is, I’ll never be that same person.
Losing my parents changed everything. It cracked something open in me. It reshaped how I think, how I lead, how I live. And it’s still shaping who I’m becoming.

Before grief entered my life, I lived by a pretty unforgiving motto:
“No one cares. Work harder.”

In 2018, I launched a nutrition coaching business and a podcast. My goal was simple: help people feel better. But looking back, I can clearly see that my approach lacked compassion. I was quick to label anything that slowed someone down as an excuse.
Couldn’t work out twice a day? Excuse.
Couldn’t meal prep or eat 100% clean? Excuse.
Struggled to find motivation? Must be lazy.

I didn’t understand why people couldn’t push harder.
Because my own standard was simple: Just do more. Cry if you need to, but don’t stop. Keep moving.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that mindset was rooted in avoidance, in a fear of stillness, in a belief that vulnerability was weakness. That all changed when I lost the two people who had always been my foundation.

Grief gave me a different lens.
Once you’ve experienced real loss, you begin to see the world in a new shade. It’s like putting on glasses you can’t take off. Everything looks different, especially the people around you. Especially how they move through their own hard things.

The empathy I carry now is something I didn’t have before. And it’s fundamentally changed how I show up as a leader.

Now, let me be clear, this isn’t about lowering standards or avoiding accountability.
You can be a strong, results-driven leader and lead with empathy.
In fact, I believe you’ll be more effective when you do.

Empathetic leadership looks like:

• Listening — not to respond, but to truly understand
  
  

• Being present — especially when your team is overwhelmed
  
  

• Holding space — without judgment or shame
  
  

• Recognizing humanity — even when the pressure is on
  
  

People don’t stop being human when they walk into a meeting, log into a Zoom call, or miss a deadline. The old version of me would’ve said, “Buck up. Keep moving.”
Now, I pause. I ask questions. I help them re-prioritize.
Because that’s what I wish someone would’ve done for me when the weight of life was too heavy to carry alone.

Grief softened me. It humbled me.
And most of all, it reminded me that we lead people — not machines.

For a long time, I thought I had to hide my grief to be seen as strong.
I believed that if I showed up with red eyes or a heavy heart, it would make people uncomfortable. That if I let my pain be visible, I’d lose credibility, or worse, respect. Until I started grieving out loud.  Here’s what I know now:

Grief doesn’t make you weak. Hiding it does.
There is immense power in showing up as your full self, even when your heart is cracked wide open.

As leaders, we often feel pressure to keep it all together, to present as polished, steady, and unshakable. But people don’t connect with perfection.
They connect with real.
And there is nothing more real than walking through grief and still showing up, leading with integrity, compassion, and heart.

Being a leader with grief doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’ve lived. It means you understand loss, and with that comes a deeper understanding of what matters — connection, presence, empathy, and truth.

Authentic leadership means letting people see you, really see you, even when you’re still healing.
Especially then.

So no, I don’t hide my grief anymore.
I carry it. I lead with it. I let it soften my edges without stealing my strength.
Because the most powerful leaders I know aren’t the ones who pretend they’re invincible, they’re the ones who show up with courage, even when it hurts.

And that’s the kind of leader I’m becoming.
Grief and all.

So if you’re leading anyone, a team, a business, a community, even yourself, I encourage you to lean into the kind of leadership that listens, supports, and sees the whole human. You don’t lose your edge by being empathetic.
You earn trust.
You create safety.
You lead in a way that lasts.

And that, to me, is what real leadership looks like.