Nine years ago, I climbed to the top—and found myself quietly questioning everything. I had followed leaders I admired, built the systems, held the line... but I hadn’t built a relationship with my own why. I was leading, yes—but from misalignment. Silent burnout set in. High-performing on the outside, numb on the inside.

My recovery from overachievement wasn’t a straight line. It was deep, still, soul work. Rooted in reflection, shaped by my Japanese heritage, and softened by the truth that leadership is not a destination—it’s a becoming.

Now I guide others to find a sustainable, evolving path. Because real purpose doesn’t burn you out. It brings you home. Read More…

I never thought quitting my varsity volleyball team would be part of my becoming. It felt like failure. But my first trip to Japan in 2000—at 20, for my Hatachi—changed that. In Goshogawara, Aomori, wrapped in a too-short kimono, the women smiled, “You’re the tallest Japanese person we’ve ever dressed!” They didn’t call me gaijin. They knew my jiichan and baachan. In that moment, I belonged—not by fitting in, but by being seen. My jiichan pointed to signs with his calligraphy, telling stories I felt more than understood. Belonging isn’t given. It’s felt—remembered through the body, when we’re still enough to receive it.

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