Change is one of those things we’re always told to embrace. We love talking about the fun, inspiring kind of change—the fresh starts, the new hobbies, the exciting career shifts. But we don't talk enough about the uncomfortable, heart-heavy change. The kind that isn't wrapped in a neat little bow, but instead comes out of deep sadness, late-night soul-searching, and a refusal to compromise on what matters most.
After more than seven rewarding years in public service, I’m taking a step back from my work.
To say the last year and a half has been a whirlwind would be an understatement. Sixteen months ago, I became a mom, and my entire universe shifted (along with my sleep schedule, my patience levels, and my ability to text back). Returning to work wasn't seamless. I navigated a heavy major depressive episode, but with the grounding love of my partner, my family, and supportive colleagues, I slowly found my footing. We built a delicate rhythm between motherhood, mental health, and my work.
As workplace structures and schedules shifted over time, I did my best to adapt. I’ve always been a team player, deeply dedicated to serving our community. Over the last six years, I’ve poured my heart into my work, stepped into increasing leadership, and built programs I am SO incredibly proud of. We adjusted our family routines and I showed up with dedication. But balancing changing workplace demands alongside my recovery and early motherhood made it clear that my body and mind needed a different rhythm.
In my work, I’ve always believed in the power of human connection, rapport, and showing up fully for people. But I’ve come to realize that sustaining that level of impact professionally was coming at the expense of my own personal capacity, my household and my daughter.
It’s a quiet, heavy realization when modern workplace realities don't easily align with every season of life. On a broader scale, it speaks to a deep rooted societal challenge—how difficult it can be for working mothers to find sustained flexibility and structural support. We talk so much as a society about the importance of family values, yet systems often put women in positions where they have to weigh their health and family against their careers, rather than creating space where both can thrive.
As a mom raising a little girl, this reality hits me right in the chest. I want to model something different for my daughter. I want her to grow up knowing, without a doubt, that she is deeply valuable, that her well-being matters, and that it is okay to listen to your body when it tells you to pivot. Where broader structures can be slow to hold space for mothers, I will create that space for us. I choose her. I choose me.
So, to everyone who has supported me, laughed with me, and worked alongside me: I am stepping down. It’s scary, it’s bittersweet, and it’s completely necessary.
Thank you for being part of my journey. Here’s to the next chapter—fewer fluorescent lights, more toddler cuddles, and holding true to the values that keep us whole.