People talk about having it all like it’s some polished state of balance — a mythical place where your calendar is colour-coded, your emails are at zero, your family is happy, and you somehow manage eight hours of sleep and a morning jog.

​

That’s not my version.

​

For me, having it all doesn’t mean I have everything worked out all the time. It means I’m moving forward. I’m succeeding more than I’m failing. I’m figuring it out — again and again — and most days, I get it more right than wrong.

​

I’ve learned that I can have a career that challenges me, a family that grounds me, friendships that feed my soul, and still carve out space for my own interests. It’s not about perfect balance — it’s about rhythm. Some weeks my career takes the lead. Other times, my family does. And that’s okay. Because I’ve stopped believing that guilt has to be part of the equation.

​

I travel for work — sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks — and I don’t feel guilty. That’s not cold or disconnected; it’s confidence. I genuinely believe you can still be who you were before, with the same dreams and ambition, and still be deeply connected to your family. Family isn’t something that replaces you — it expands you. There’s still space to be driven, to want more, and to go after it without apology.

​

Of course, I’m not immune to imposter syndrome. There are moments when I wonder if I really deserve to feel this steady — this capable. I’ve spent years wrestling with that voice that says, “Are you sure you belong here?” But somewhere along the way, I realized that at this stage of my career, I do largely have it together. I’ve earned my place.

​

So now the challenge isn’t about proving myself — it’s about owning that. Getting comfortable in it. That’s its own kind of leadership test: staying grounded when things feel uncertain, trusting your own compass, and not getting thrown off course when the world around you feels shaky.

​

I’m still working on that — on embracing the inner grit that keeps me moving forward without constantly questioning whether I should be here. But more and more, I’m learning to say: Yes, I have it all. Not perfectly. Not effortlessly. But fully.

​

And that’s enough.