My Why

I’ve struggled to fully understand and articulate my “Why” for as long as I can remember. There’s always been this underlying pressure to figure it out, as if knowing your deeper purpose is the missing key to making life feel certain, steady, or successful. But for me, that clarity never came in a single moment. Instead, it’s been a quiet, ongoing search—shaped by responsibility, survival, and the constant balancing act of being driven and being human.

One of the earliest moments I recall wrestling with purpose was when I was trying to choose a college major. I was 17, making one of the most significant decisions of my life, yet completely unsure of how to make it. A few things weighed heavily on me back then:

1. Fear of being broke. I didn’t want to pick a major that would leave me unemployed or unable to support a family one day. Ironically, I still don’t have that family—I’m 36, single, and child-free—but that fear still lingers from a time when financial security felt like the most responsible measure of success.
2. A million interests, no clear path. I loved to dance, but it didn’t seem practical. Communications and journalism caught my attention, but I hated writing. (Funny, considering I’m blogging this right now.) Math was my stronger subject, but I didn’t know what to do with it.
3. Echoes of someone else’s vision. My first and second grade teacher once told me I’d make a great teacher someday. That stuck with me. I declared education as my first major—only to realize a year in that I didn’t have the passion or drive for it.
4. The pressure of being first. No one else in my family had gone off to college. I was the second-oldest grandchild (and the oldest on my dad’s side), the oldest child, and the one who had to “get it right.” I was supposed to lead the way, not just for me but for everyone watching.
5. Proving people wrong. Some of the same people who claimed to love me also quietly expected me to fail. That lit a fire in me. But it also planted the seed of perfectionism—the exhausting belief that I had to excel at everything just to prove my worth.

So, if I’m honest, my early decisions weren’t made from a place of clarity or purpose. They were made from fear, pressure, and a desire to survive. And for a long time, that was enough.

But survival isn’t purpose. And perfection isn’t peace.

These days, I’m learning that maybe your “Why” doesn’t show up fully formed. Maybe it unfolds in pieces, through the things that light you up, the people you fight for, the values you refuse to compromise on. I know I feel the most fulfilled when I’m creating opportunities, especially for those who’ve been counted out. I know I feel most alive when I’m building something, whether that’s a blog, a bike event, or a bold new idea that blends strategy, equity, and impact.

I may not have a neatly packaged “Why” yet. But I’m getting closer.

And maybe that’s the point.

This post is part of my 🎀 Power in Pink: My MBA Leadership Journal series.
👉 Click here to view all posts in the series