Eight years ago this past weekend, I could have been holding a brand new baby girl in my arms.

Instead, I spent Mother’s Day with the two children who made me a mother in the first place. And somewhere in the complicated space between grief and gratitude, I found myself reflecting on the lessons motherhood, loss, and survival taught me about leadership.

For years, I believed leadership meant enduring more. Giving more. Needing less. Showing up no matter what, even when I was quietly falling apart. I don’t believe that anymore.

This is a deeply personal piece about loss, boundaries, burnout, humanity, and the moment I realized that being needed by everyone else does not mean abandoning yourself.

There are moments when growth doesn’t feel inspiring or empowering. It feels… a little like getting caught.

Last month the world celebrated Non-Binary Parents Day, and I found myself sitting with a realization I didn’t love. I’m a queer parent. I’ve built a career around inclusion, leadership, and helping people feel seen. And still… I caught my own bias in real time.

Not loud bias. Not intentional bias. The quiet kind. The kind that lives in the background and shapes how we think without asking for permission.

Because we’re living in a time when it feels easier than ever to retreat into comfort. To pretend. To skip the hard conversations. To scroll instead of reckon. To reach for tradition without interrogating what’s underneath it. And yet — growth never comes from denial. It comes from the courage to sit beside the metaphorical empty chair and say, “I can hold this. I can look at the truth and still choose hope.” That’s leadership.

When weekend coverage falls apart, it’s tempting to blame a “work ethic problem” or cling to the idea that everyone has to suffer like we did. But let’s be real: martyrdom isn’t a leadership skill, and it’s not a staffing strategy either. Humane scheduling isn’t about going soft—it’s about building a team that lasts.

Making a career change is exciting—new opportunities, fresh challenges, and room for growth. But what happens when the hardest part isn’t the job itself, but missing the coworkers who became your friends?

After eight years of daily conversations, inside jokes, and shared wins, leaving my job meant adjusting to more than just a new role—it meant redefining my support system. Change, even when it’s the right move, comes with a mix of emotions: excitement, uncertainty, and the unexpected challenge of maintaining relationships outside the workplace.

In this article, I’m sharing my personal experience with career transition, the reality of missing work friends, and how I’m navigating this new chapter while embracing growth. If you’re going through a career shift, you’re not alone—let’s talk about the ups, downs, and everything in between.

Too often, leaders in our field feel stuck between two extremes. We think we have to choose between being strong and decisive or empathetic and people-focused—as if we can’t be both. Spoiler alert: That’s a false choice. Leadership isn’t about picking a side. It’s about finding the balance that helps people (and practices!) thrive.

If you’ve ever had the privilege of leading a high performer—someone who goes above and beyond, tackles challenges like they’re an Olympic sport, and makes everyone around them better—you know how special it is. High performers are the heart and soul of a team. They’re the ones you trust to step up, think big, and get things done…

But here’s what I want you to hear loud and clear: it’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s a sign that you’ve done something right. You’ve helped someone grow so much that they’re ready for their next chapter. And while letting them go might tug at your heartstrings (or your to-do list), it’s an opportunity to be the kind of leader who builds people up—even if it means sending them on their way.

2024 was my transition year, both personally and professionally. While there was a lot of growth and change for Uncharted Veterinary Conference, much of my year was spent immersed in the nuance of projects, conferences, summits, and community events. It wasn’t a year of big, splashy achievements or intense hustle. Instead, it was a year to breathe, reflect, and recalibrate after several years of relentless personal and professional growth.