Glow-ups don’t have to be loud. They don’t have to be dramatic. And they definitely don’t require you to prove your worth through exhaustion. Sometimes they look like finished floors on Thursday and a fresh login on Monday. And a version of you who no longer feels the need to snap while she’s building something better.

There’s a weird little pocket of time that exists between jobs. It’s not a vacation. It’s not unemployment. It’s not even a break you can fully enjoy without feeling like you should be “using it wisely.”

We’ve all been taught the same career fairy tale:

You give two weeks’ notice.

Everyone behaves like adults.

You wrap things up neatly.

You leave to applause and a LinkedIn endorsement.

And sometimes? That happens.

Other times… absolutely not.

This week, I officially resigned from my job—and before anyone clutches their pearls, let me be very clear: I had another offer in hand. No dramatic walk-outs. No manifesting into the void. Just a calm, adult resignation… with benefits.

January doesn’t ease us into the year. It drops us straight into reality. The holidays are over, routines snap back into place, bank accounts are recovering, the weather feels endless, and suddenly we’re expected to be motivated, focused, and thriving because it’s a “fresh start.”

Welcome to my first blog post of the year

I’m not starting with a perfectly color-coded goal chart or a dramatic “new year, new me” manifesto. Instead, I’m starting with honesty, a little humor, and a word that feels right for the season I’m in: Thriving Through Change.

The holiday season has a funny way of colliding with professional expectations. End-of-year deadlines, budget closeouts, performance reviews, planning for next year - all while your calendar is packed with “quick check-ins” that are anything but quick and at least one meeting where half the attendees are mentally already on vacation.

Even when your service member isn’t officially deployed, life as a military spouse can feel like its own kind of deployment. Right now, my husband is away for helicopter training, and while it’s an amazing opportunity for him — something we both agreed on and fully support as a family — it doesn’t make it any easier for those of us holding down the fort.

This week was the kind of week that makes you stare into the void and ask, “Is Mercury in retrograde or am I the problem?”
Spoiler: It was a little bit me

For most of my career, I thought leadership was something that belonged in professional spaces — conference rooms, classrooms, and project briefings. Leadership looked like strategic plans, performance reviews, and confident communication.

It’s not about the square footage or the number of rooms — it’s about the energy I’m bringing into them. I’m stepping into this season with more intention, more gratitude, and more grace for myself. I’m allowing space for both excitement and imperfection, for both dreams and rest

Some people are born to lead with booming voices, sweeping hand gestures, and the ability to make a PowerPoint feel like a halftime show. And then… there are the rest of us. The ones who would rather think before we speak, prefer small groups to spotlights, and believe coffee is best enjoyed without a meeting attached.

Some seasons of life feel like they change the moment I finally start to find my footing. This year has been one of those seasons — full of shifting schedules, new responsibilities, and the constant push to create some kind of balance. As a mom and a military spouse, I’ve learned that “predictable” isn’t really part of the vocabulary. But peace can be. For a long time, I thought having a routine meant locking myself into a strict plan — every hour accounted for, every detail managed. That worked until it didn’t. Life with a small child, changing work demands, and military schools have a way of laughing at even the best-laid plans. Eventually, I realized that what I needed wasn’t a schedule. I needed rhythms — flexible, gentle anchors that helped me feel grounded even when the day went sideways.

Some people wait for January 1st to hit reset — new planners, new promises, new motivation. But for me, there’s something about October that feels like the real start of goal season. The air cools, the pace shifts, and suddenly there’s room to breathe again.

Taylor Swift is dropping her new album The Life of a Showgirl this week, and honestly? My entire week feels like it’s happening in sequins now. So instead of a normal to-do list, I decided to frame my days through the Taylor lens (aka glittery chaos with great background music).

We’ve all been there. Your throat is scratchy, your nose has declared mutiny, and you’re pretty sure you’ve forgotten what energy feels like. Meanwhile, your to-do list is giving you the side-eye like, “Excuse me, did you forget about us?” Here’s the truth: life doesn’t stop just because you’re sick. But that doesn’t mean you have to power through like a hero. Enter my favorite survival strategy: the art of doing “just enough.”

When leaders talk about profit, they usually turn to numbers: revenue, expenses, and margins. But here’s the truth—profit isn’t just about the numbers on a spreadsheet. It’s also about how effectively people communicate. Poor communication isn’t just frustrating—it’s expensive. Every missed email, unclear instruction, or misunderstood client request chips away at profitability. A study by SHRM estimated that large organizations lose millions of dollars each year due to communication breakdowns. And for small or mid-sized companies, even a few costly mistakes can make the difference between growth and stagnation.

Life often feels like it’s measured in big milestones—new jobs, big moves, financial breakthroughs, or family milestones. Those are important, of course, but what I’ve been realizing lately is that those “big” moments are not what sustain me day to day. What truly keeps me moving forward, especially in a season that’s busy and sometimes overwhelming, are the smaller things.