Before the Breaking Point

For over a decade, I did everything “right.” I earned the degrees. I climbed the ladder. I showed up early, stayed late, and said yes to every opportunity.even when it cost me my peace.
I walked into boardrooms full of confidence on the outside, but inside, I was constantly shrinking. My voice was often drowned out, or worse.repackaged by someone else and applauded as their own. I smiled through microaggressions. I tolerated being the only woman of color in the room. I was grateful, I told myself. Grateful to be there. Grateful for the chance.
But the truth is, I was slowly breaking. My ambition, once fueled by purpose, was now just a mask for survival.

When the Body Says No

I didn’t realize how sick I had become until I collapsed one morning in the office bathroom.
What I thought was just “normal” stress.skipped meals, sleepless nights, chest tightness.turned out to be my body waving a red flag. Panic attacks. Hair falling out in clumps. A constant ache I couldn’t explain. I kept pushing, believing burnout was just part of the job. But my body knew better.
It was a wake-up call I couldn’t ignore. The version of success I had been chasing was destroying me.

The Day I Walked Away

There was no grand plan. No six-month savings cushion or backup gig. Just a moment where I finally listened to the voice inside that said, “You can’t do this anymore.”
I handed in my resignation and walked out of that office for the last time. I didn’t feel triumphant. I felt terrified.and free.
The first few weeks were raw. I slept. I cried. I stared at the ceiling, wondering who I was without a title, a paycheck, a packed calendar. But in that stillness, I began to breathe again.

Finding Myself Again

I moved back home for a while, to slow down and reconnect. Each morning, I walked by the ocean. I let the waves remind me what calm felt like.
I went to therapy for the first time in my life. I read books I’d forgotten I loved. I journaled, reflected, and asked myself questions I had never dared to answer:

• What does success look like to me now?
   
• If no one was watching, what would I truly want?
   
• What kind of life would I build if I were no longer surviving, but thriving?
   

The answer scared me.I wanted to write. I wanted to create space for other women to heal. I wanted to be present. To be whole.

Redefining Ambition

Slowly, I began to rebuild.but on my terms.
I started mentoring young Black women entering leadership roles. I co-founded a support circle for women of color transitioning out of corporate careers. We call it Exit Wounds, because that’s exactly what it feels like.leaving behind something that cut deep, but no longer serves you.
I launched my own small wellness and consulting business. I make less money than I did in corporate, but I have more time, more autonomy, and far more joy. I write almost every day. I’m working on my first novel.

For My Daughter, and Myself

One night, my daughter asked me, “Mom, why are you always so tired?” That question cracked something open in me. I had been missing her dance recitals, skipping bedtime stories, and trading family for deadlines.
Now, I walk her to school. I cook dinner. I laugh more.
I want her to grow up knowing that ambition doesn’t have to come at the cost of your well-being. That success isn’t about overworking.it’s about feeling whole.

The Truth About Leaving

People often think walking away means failure. That it’s giving up.
But I know now that leaving wasn’t the end of my ambition.it was the beginning of a more honest one.
I don’t hustle for worth anymore. I no longer measure success by exhaustion or income.
I measure it by peace. By presence. By purpose.

Final Thought:

I left corporate to heal. And in that healing, I found a new ambition.one rooted not in perfection or productivity, but in freedom, joy, and becoming fully myself. Redefining ambition isn’t failure.it’s freedom.