Walking through the streets of the 7th arrondissement, I don’t just hear Paris’s hustle and bustle; I feel life itself moving all around me, in many shapes and forms. Strangers brush past, conversations drift as I weave through; sirens flare and disappear, while children’s laughter ripples through the street. With their classmates setting off on a day of exploration, I, too, feel like one of them…swept into my own grown-up adventure.

For me, exploring a new culture is more than “sightseeing” …it’s a way to challenge the limits of who I am; to feel the heartbeat of a place and let it influence me, all while still holding tightly to my own core. In this multitude of moments, I am reminded that beneath our surface differences, we are all connected by the same universal truths. Each of us has a story that continues to unfold and still needs to be understood, and perhaps even embraced.

I was reminded of this while waiting in line at the Dior Galerie, where I started a conversation with the woman next to me. She shared how life had taken her in unexpected directions and choosing to let go and trust what was meant to be had led to countless serendipitous moments, including her current job, which takes her all over the world. What stayed with me most was her quiet belief that her past doesn’t define her, but has instead refined her… a truth I held onto after our chance encounter.

Later that afternoon, as the rain pressed against the windows of my fifth-floor apartment, I talked with my mother over a video call. We found ourselves discussing the importance of gentleness, with ourselves and each other, and how small we truly are, both within our family systems and in the vastness of the world. She spoke with remorse, not so much for what she had done, but for what she had left undone while I was growing up.

I reminded her that I am the woman I am today because of it, and that the work of righting wrongs, or more truthfully, of healing what hurt, belongs to me. It is a lesson I continue to learn, but the first love I needed was my own, a coming home to myself. That’s why I wrote the epistolary memoir Love, Me, as a love song not only to my father but also to myself and to others. It’s a reminder that the journey is yours to claim, to heal, and to make whole…an invitation to stop blaming others and instead step into the power of loving yourself first.

It’s easy, of course, to admire the monumental moments or the glittering symbols of beauty that life sets before us. Yet it is equally important to turn toward our past pain and see it, too, as something to be honored …the strength and wisdom it has shaped within us. I remind myself of this daily as I continue to live in the unknown.

Standing and staring at every angle, I can’t help but marvel at the Eiffel Tower towering in all its grandeur, or the timeless beauty of the bridges crossing the Seine.  I smile thinking of the endless cafes and bistros teeming with tourists and local Parisians alike, mingling in a space where only the clinking of glasses and hum of conversation blur the lines between strangers and dissolve borders of origin.

Yet, how often do we pause to recognize our own splendor? 

Recognizing resilience in our lives means acknowledging the quiet courage needed to keep going, even when guilt, grief, and truth weigh heavily on us. To me, guilt, grief, and truth are friends I often invite into my reflections, as they shape every part of our lives. Every absence I’ve experienced…whether through loss, silence, or regret…has created space. In that space, I faced a choice: step back or step in. When I stepped in, I became the kind of leader I needed most, not only for myself but for those around me.

Leadership begins from within. It may sound selfish, but tending to our own spirits must come first. Without understanding who we are and acknowledging the weight of our past, as well as how it continues to seep into the present, we cannot lead with clarity or strength.

Healing isn’t about erasing; it’s about recognizing how our experiences shape our story and choosing not to let them dictate the ending. Only then can agency take hold. Only then can confidence emerge from the quiet core of who we are, unshaken by external noise. This is my kind of truth-telling, which may feel uncomfortable, even aggressive, but it is genuine. And only what is authentic can ripple outward to create a difference in the larger whole, I have learned.

As I continue my own journey, I see how grief softens into wisdom, how guilt guides me toward grace, and how truth can be both liberating and demanding. The moments and monuments of Paris remind me of greatness, but it is in those serene spaces I have created within that have helped me to heal, rise, and step in …rather than step back.

Understanding who we are and recognizing how our past continues to influence us are fundamental for leading with clarity and strength. So, thank you, Mom, for bringing me into this world and walking alongside me in the way I need most …in a way that has facilitated my becoming my true self. To anyone going through grief, carrying guilt, or still searching for truth, remember your healing is not selfish. It is sacred work. 

When you prioritize your own spirit, you not only transform your own life but also influence the lives of those around you. You create the potential for change in everyone you touch.