Are you pivoting or are you quitting?

It’s a question I’ve been getting a lot lately.

A few months ago, my family and I dealt with a tragedy we’re still reeling from. It was jarring, deeply painful, and forced us all into deep introspection.

Personally, for me…it forced me to sit with myself in ways I’d never done. In particular, it compelled me to examine the value I place on life itself.

I’m a chronic, classic over-achiever.

In high school, I went to three different schools in two different states and was the newspaper editor and two-time class president. I maintained a part-time job and won all the awards on my speech and debate team. Add on AP classes, honor roll, and all the rest.

In undergrad, I sped through in three years by the age of 20 and the only reason I didn’t go to an Ivy League school was that I’d gotten a full-ride scholarship to a public university. I mentored refugee children, ran whatever club I could, took master’s level classes, and left college with only $3,000 in debt.

Before I turned 25, I’d lived on three continents, had one of the top radio shows in Uganda, and had gotten a second degree from the London School of Economics. I published a book of poetry, went to dinners at random ambassador’s houses, and had bosses that are regularly featured in TIMES, Vanity Fair, Forbes, etc. etc. etc.

Are you seeing a trend?

I never questioned my overachieving habits— even when they showed up to the detriment of my personal relationships. (Ask me about the time I almost missed my best friend’s wedding—where I was a bridesmaid— because I’d snuck out of the resort to send emails to my client).

But a few months ago, I started to do * the work *. I unfurled and I cried, and I sat in silence. I looked around and saw the other women I know— all chronic overachievers cradling their own pains and aches and solitudes the best way they know how, and decided to offer us all something healing.

I started with a simple question— perhaps, we can do life differently?

Then, a second— perhaps, we can do things more whole-heartedly?

Then, a third— perhaps, we don’t have to wait for tragedy to find us before taking care of our most tender, interior spaces?

From this, break*through was born. We monetized the first day we “launched” and 3 months later we’re gaining momentum at a pace my former luxury startup could’ve only dreamed about.

So.

I’m pivoting or quitting?

I fully realize starting a new business is hardly the antidote to chronic overachievement. But, this one’s different. Maybe because I’m different?

With break*through, my team and I are exploring some exciting things in the realm of neuroscience, women’s wisdom, and personal development.

What we’re building, I needed at 25. I need it now. My friends need it. And so do the 38 million women in America who want to get to the C-Suite but never will or will burn out on their way there.

So on that note, I’ll leave you with a picture of 21-year-old me at a refugee camp between the border of Uganda and Congo. Turns out I’ve been listening to, learning from, and healing with women for over a decade. It just took me until now to get it.