There are seasons in life when the ground beneath you shifts in ways you never expected. Seasons where the weight of responsibility, the sting of adversity, and the quiet ache of emotional fatigue converge all at once. For me, the Better World Project was not simply an academic requirement; it emerged at a moment when I needed clarity, healing, and a renewed sense of purpose. It became a vessel through which I could reclaim my voice, strengthen my leadership identity, and anchor myself more firmly in who I am becoming.

As a perioperative leader, a mother, a writer, and a woman deeply committed to service, I entered this project carrying both strength and strain. I had been navigating complex professional challenges, emotional wounds that surfaced unexpectedly, and the lingering exhaustion that comes when you continuously pour into others without replenishing yourself. Leadership, in its truest sense, exposes you — your convictions, your character, your limits, and your resilience. And while I carried myself with grace and competence, internally I knew I needed space to refine, rebuild, and realign.

The Better World Project became that space.

When I set my goals, I was intentional: I wanted a project that did more than satisfy a requirement — I wanted one that ministered to my spirit, strengthened my emotional foundation, sharpened my intellect, restored my body, and deepened my commitment to ethical and compassionate leadership. Every component of the project aligned with something I needed personally and professionally. This was not accidental; it was purposeful and, in many ways, providential.

The emotional care track resonated deeply with me. I had spent years navigating anxiety, high-pressure environments, and the unspoken expectation that leaders must remain unshaken. Yet leadership maturity taught me that emotional avoidance is not strength — emotional awareness is. Committing to therapy, journaling, grounding practices, and a 40-day devotion rooted in Psalm 91 was not merely an assignment; it was an act of self-preservation. It reminded me that resilience is not the absence of emotion but the ability to carry emotion with discipline, wisdom, and grace.

The intellectual pursuit component allowed me to reconnect with my love of learning. Studying Stoicism, exploring Brené Brown’s work on emotional literacy, and writing through my Wings of Courage platform helped me process my experiences through the lens of leadership philosophy. These readings and writings became mirrors — reflecting areas where I had grown and areas where I still needed refinement. They also strengthened my voice as a leader and a storyteller, giving me language for complexity and clarity for decision-making.

The ethical leadership portion of the project reminded me that integrity is not situational; it is constant, even when the environment is not. Navigating difficult professional situations required courage — not loud, aggressive courage, but the kind that stands steady, speaks truth respectfully, advocates for fairness, and refuses to be intimidated. This track allowed me to honor my own moral compass and reaffirm the standards I expect from myself.

Physical development was another necessary reminder that leadership is a full-body experience. You cannot pour from an empty vessel, and you cannot lead effectively when your body is neglected. My walking routines — documented through pedometer logs — were not just exercise; they were medicine, moments of clarity, and tangible signs of progress. Each step brought me back to myself, grounding me in discipline and consistency.

Finally, the service component reaffirmed my heart for people. Leading Perioperative Week, mentoring colleagues, and supporting team morale reminded me that leadership is relational. It is about building environments where people feel seen, valued, and supported. Service is not something I do; it is who I am.

Through this project, I realized something powerful: the Better World Project was actually the Better Me Project, and in strengthening myself, I strengthened every community I touch. This experience has been one of refining — a necessary pruning that made room for growth, confidence, courage, and renewal.

This project called me to rise. Not in loudness, not in performance, but in inner strength. And answering that call has already changed the way I lead.