The pandemic changed us all in ways we couldn’t have anticipated. For me, it came with a physical transformation I never wanted and, at times, couldn’t face. Over the course of those months and years, I gained about 100 pounds. The weight didn’t creep in quietly; it crashed into my life as I spent my days working tirelessly at my computer and cherishing moments with my new grandbaby. Those moments on the couch with that precious little one in my lap were worth everything, but the effects on my body were undeniable.

The weight came with a partner: swelling so unpredictable and severe that it made in-person appearances a source of deep anxiety. For a long time, I avoided them altogether. I could hide behind the screen and do what I do best—build a life and career I love. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t stay there forever.

My first big trip after this new reality was to Atlanta. I thought I was prepared, but the swelling hit hard—so hard I couldn’t bring myself to fly back home right away. I spent days alone in a hotel room, waiting for the discomfort to subside and for my confidence to return. Even through that moment of physical and emotional vulnerability, I made a decision: this weight, this swelling, this thing would not define me.

But life wasn’t done testing me.

On a trip to New York City to deliver a major presentation, I was ready—or so I thought. My outfits, which fit just days earlier, refused to cooperate. The swelling was relentless. I panicked. What could I do? Cancel the event? Stay hidden in the shadows? Every fiber of my being wanted to retreat, to protect myself from the judgment I feared.

But something stronger spoke to me.

After meditating and calming the storm of self-doubt, I pulled out the simplest outfit I had: black pants, a black flannel, and slides—the clothes I had planned to wear home. Nothing flashy. Nothing “stage-worthy.” Just me.

And you know what? It was enough.

I showed up, spoke my truth, and shared not just my expertise but also the very real struggle I was navigating. Vulnerability poured into my words, and instead of holding me back, it propelled me forward. That day, I booked seven additional speaking engagements. Seven!

Since then, I’ve shown up again and again, aches and all. One of my colleagues who came to support me at a presentation was so inspired they decided to help manage my speaking engagements entirely. Through the challenges, I’ve gained something priceless: the affirmation that my gifts are enough.

This isn’t just my story—it’s a reminder for anyone who feels like they have to be perfect to show up. You don’t. Your gifts will make room for you.

When life feels heavy, when the challenges seem too big, when you don’t feel your best—remember, it’s not about perfection. It’s about showing up. Your gifts are already within you, ready to shine.