Raising a Son Who Watches Me Work

My son doesn’t ask about my work very often.

He doesn’t sit across from me at dinner and demand explanations. He doesn’t ask why I’m on my laptop early mornings or late nights, why we only see each other on weekends. He just watches. Quietly. The way kids do when they’re taking notes they don’t know they’re taking.

That’s what I think about.

I think about what he is learning, through proximity, about what work is. What ambition looks like. What a woman does when the world demands more than is fair. Whether you can build something of your own and still be present. Whether strength and softness can live in the same person.

I don’t have a clean answer for any of it. I’m making this up as I go, like most parents are.

But I’ve made some intentional choices along the way.

I let him see me work hard — and I let him see me stop. I talk about what I do in terms he can understand: I help people figure out what they want to do with their lives. Sometimes I tell him when I had a great call, when someone had a breakthrough. I want him to know that work can mean something beyond just paying bills.

I also let him see me rest. Laugh. Be a person outside of the role. Order takeout without guilt on a Thursday night because no one wants to cook.

I don’t know what he’ll remember. I hope it’s not the missed school events. I hope it’s the conversations, the slow weekend mornings, the moments when I put the phone down and was just his mom.

But if he does remember the work — I hope what he takes from it is this: she did something that mattered to her, and she did it on her own terms.

That would be enough.

On Being the Breadwinner and Falling Apart

There is a very specific kind of pressure that comes with being the person everyone is counting on.

Not the abstract, motivational kind — the real kind. The kind where if you stop, things actually stop. The bills, the groceries, the school fees, the future that you’ve promised your child through work and sacrifice and pure willpower. You are the one holding it together. So you hold it together.

And then one day — sometimes gradually, sometimes all at once — you fall apart.

I have fallen apart in bathrooms, in cars, in the middle of perfectly ordinary Tuesday afternoons. I’ve cried in ways that felt disproportionate to what triggered them, which is usually something small — a meeting that went wrong, a delayed payment, a moment of being stretched one direction too many.

The small thing is never really what you’re crying about.

There’s a lie we tell breadwinners — especially women, especially solo parents — that strength is a permanent state. That you either have it or you don’t. That asking for support means you’re losing your grip on the thing you’ve built.

I don’t believe that anymore.

Falling apart, when it happens, is not failure. It’s your body and mind doing the only honest thing left to do after a long period of carrying more than one person was designed to carry.

The capacity to hold things together is real. And it has limits. And those limits do not make you weak — they make you human.

What helped me: letting myself fall apart in small, controlled ways before the bigger one. Crying when I needed to cry. Saying “I’m not okay today” to someone who could hold it. Giving myself permission to be held up, even occasionally.

You don’t have to earn the right to fall apart. You just have to let yourself.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me at 35

I turned 35 in the middle of what I thought was the right life.

Good job. Good performance reviews. A clear ladder in front of me. I had done everything I was supposed to do, in the order I was supposed to do it. And I felt, quietly but persistently, like I had somehow missed a turn several years back without knowing it.

Nobody tells you that you can be on track and still be lost.

Here’s what I wish someone had said to me at 35:

The discomfort you’re feeling is not ingratitude. It’s your instincts. Don’t talk yourself out of it just because your life looks fine from the outside.

Being good at your job and being fulfilled by it are different things. You can have one without the other for a long time. Not forever.

The things you keep gravitating toward in your spare time — the coaching conversations, the people problems, the “can I give you a thought on that?” — those are not hobbies. Those are signals.

You are allowed to build a career that fits who you actually are, not who you were when you started.

You will lose things in the rebuilding. Some of them will be losses you grieve. Not all of them will matter as much as you fear.

Your son is watching everything. Not to judge you — to learn what’s possible. What you model now is what he’ll believe about work, about identity, about whether a person can change course without falling apart.

The courage to change is not reckless. It’s one of the most responsible things you can do — for yourself, and for the people who are quietly watching you figure out how to live.

At 35, I had more time than I thought. And less than I assumed I could waste.

Why I Started Coaching

Short answer: I wanted to be there for the younger me.

It has not been an easy journey. Before I got to where I wanted to be in terms of financial stability and wellness, I went through countless tough times. People who know me and my story would always say I am resilient. What I know for sure is that I got a lot of help. I had them from friends, family and mentors. 

The best mentors are ex-bosses who continue to lift me up. Most though, I’ve not even met to this day. I read or listened to their books and podcasts countless times though. I summarized everything I learned, wrote them down and turned to action what I could. I tracked the impact those actions made on my daily life. Kept the ones that worked and chucked the ones that did not serve me well. It took me years to arrive at a playbook that works. 

Having a Coach is a totally different experience. I thought coaching is something I’ve done in the past eighteen years working with various teams. At some point, I thought I'd done well too. It’s only been three years though since I learned what professional coaching is all about. It’s something that could have propelled me to success early on. It is vastly more powerful than what I initially envisioned. 

Promise to the 20-year old me

This is not a new career chapter. It’s an entirely new book for me. I am still working on my credentialing. I am enjoying the conversations I have with my coachees. I love the courage they bring in every session and the transformations we witness together. 

These past few months made me realize how Coaching could have made my younger years less painful. How I could have taken better care of myself. How I could have had ready tools in my arsenal for when things do not go as planned. I wrote a letter to my younger self to let her know that things did get better. I also made a promise to be there for the younger ones. To hold space for them. Those who may not have access to “Executive Coaches” at this point but definitely want to pivot and make the next chapter of their lives mean more. Let’s collab now!

Quitting in the Time of COVID

Everyone was surprised when they learned that I quit my corporate job. This pandemic brought us down to our knees. Many lost their jobs. Companies closed. We were forced to stay home and physically apart from our loved ones. 

Meanwhile, I was doing well. One of the lucky ones spared. I loved my team. They are the best! I had awesome friends at work. We had work that always pushes us to do better. We have great benefits. I was earning more than I needed. 

Nothing was bad but there was also nothing that lit me up anymore. For several months before I finally quit my job, I have been talking about Coaching with my boss, mentors, and peer coaches within the company. I started coaching outside work hours. I read and listened to countless Coaches and coaching demo sessions. 

Like a brewing divorce, I saw it coming. It’s not exactly cheating if your boss and everyone knows about it, right? At some point though, we just knew it was time. I was ready and I had an amazing succession pipeline. Did I say I had the best team? Yes!

3 things to consider

I only had three things I was sure of before I quit - my Why, Cash, and If/ Then plan. 

1. My reason for leaving is the most important part of it. It had to be more than my dream to just stay in bed all day. Oh but there are some days I get to do that now. That’s for another post. I left my job not because I wanted a pause. It cannot be just an escape. I wanted a more mindful daily life. I am taking a stand on wellness and simplicity. I carefully curated the things I want to enjoy and even the ones I would allow myself to be stressed about. 

2. How much I needed to make this happen is another consideration. I knew I would not be earning the same income. I had to drastically reduce my expenses. I unsubscribed from so many things I felt I did not need on a daily basis. I sold a LOT of things too. My friends thought I was going through another depressive episode. I was actually taking a bold step to prevent any such episodes in the future. I even sold my bed and the whole cabinet! I have less things and more time to actually enjoy living. 

3. To those who love If/Then’s, ya nerds! I like to apply my basic Excel knowledge in real life. Things are always exciting and fun at the beginning. I know I will enjoy my honeymoon period with Coaching. I also know though that there might be a time when I would lose courage and focus. I am lazy and sometimes easily distracted. Oh a rainbow! Unicorn! Anyhoo, my point is, knowing what those potential pitfalls are and what I would do, who I would reach out to when those happen are essential. 

Soon as I had all three ready I went on and just did it. I know it may not apply to all at this point, but for those who have been contemplating it for a while now I hope this helps.