On paper, I had it all: a Ph.D., an MBA, and leadership roles at universities across Canada, the UK, Australia, and Hong Kong. I was the definition of a driven woman who made things happen.
But behind the accolades was a mother of two trying to keep it all together.
Over a period of five years, my family and I moved across four countries. I rebuilt my career in each one. I showed up as the strong leader, the present mom, the resilient partner.
But no one saw the toll it took behind closed doors — the anxiety, the restlessness, the quiet questioning of whether I could keep going at this pace.
I was silently drowning in expectations, most of them my own
There’s a unique pressure that comes with being a high-achieving woman, especially when you’re also a mother. It’s the invisible weight of always needing to prove your worth — to your workplace, your community, even your family.
I didn’t want to drop any balls. So I juggled faster.
When my husband took on more at work, I took on more at home, while juggling full-time work, two young kids, and postgraduate study. When my children struggled with new environments, I became their anchor. When leadership roles demanded more from me, I delivered, until I had nothing left for myself.
I didn’t realize I was burning out until I reached a breaking point. I was running on empty, and my patience wore thin. I was snapping at my kids, barely sleeping, and constantly overwhelmed.
But I kept performing. That’s what I thought strong women did.
Resilience is about knowing when to let go
We often celebrate women who “do it all,” but we rarely talk about the cost. I used to think resilience meant grinding through, no matter how drained I felt.
But here’s what I’ve learned: real resilience is about choosing — choosing what to carry and what to lay down, choosing rest, boundaries, and values before the world makes those choices for you.
When I finally gave myself permission to pause, I realized how much I’d been holding for everyone else and how little I was holding for myself.
So I let go of the title, the status, the story I’d told myself about what it meant to be “successful.”
I didn’t want to keep modeling a life of silent burnout for my daughters.
It took everything in me to step away from a career I had worked so hard to build. But I knew something had to change. I then chose to rebuild differently this time, from a place of purpose, not performance.
Now I teach what I wish I knew all along
Today, I help people who are in the same place I once was: successful on the outside, but secretly falling apart inside.
I work with professionals, especially women, who are tired of measuring their worth by how much they do. I share the lessons I have learned through coaching, keynotes, and neuroscience-based programs.
First, I teach that awareness is the first step to real change. You can’t shift what you don’t notice. Start by paying attention to how you feel, where you say yes when you mean no, and what patterns are quietly running your life.
I also tell women that they need to protect their energy like a budget. If it costs you peace, it’s too expensive.
Third, I tell women that resilience doesn’t mean doing more. It means knowing when to pause. Rest isn’t a reward. It’s a requirement.
Also, it’s important to set your boundaries before you reach your breaking point. If you wait for permission, you’ll never get it.
Lastly, women need to know that they can stop trying to prove their worth through productivity. Presence matters more than performance.
But most importantly, a successful woman is allowed to pause. We are allowed to protect our peace and redefine what success means to us.
Because success isn’t just about what you build. It’s about who you become along the way.
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