My Wellness Reset - The Story I Almost Didn't Share

I wasn’t sure I would ever share this part of my story — not because I’m ashamed, but because it feels so layered.

I’m a proud, accomplished woman. I’ve built a life full of purpose, meaningful relationships, and work that challenges and inspires me daily. My professional world is wide-reaching — I serve as a strategic advisor to institutions, family offices, and high-growth founders across commercial real estate, fintech, digital assets, and next-generation investment platforms. I speak at global events, contribute thought leadership content, and serve as a venture partner and connector for emerging and legacy capital networks. I’ve built founder communities, educational platforms, and advisory frameworks that help people and companies grow — while navigating industries that are complex, fast-evolving, and often misunderstood.

I’m proud of what I’ve created. And I love the work I do.

But like so many others — I’ve also been carrying something silently behind the scenes. A deeply personal challenge that has, in many ways, shaped how I move through the world.

And I’ve made the decision to post about it — right here, where I know it might surprise some people.

For those who know me, it may be unexpected to see me step this far out of my shell and share something so personal, so openly. And for those who don’t know me, it may feel out of character to see this kind of post in a professional space like LinkedIn or on other sites.

I considered waiting. I thought about holding this back until I had a few months of progress under my belt — until I was sure it was working and had “proof” to show. But that’s not how life unfolds, and that’s not how connection is built. If I hit a wall or hit a rough patch, that’s just part of the journey — and one more reason we can support each other through it.

But we all go through life chapter changes. And right now, I’m immersed in several phenomenally positive, transformative journeys — both professionally and personally. They’re stretching me, fueling me, and inviting me to step into an even greater version of the life I’ve worked hard to build.

That’s why it feels like the right time to be honest about all of it — not just the polished, boardroom-ready version, but the human story underneath.

If sharing this can be a source of connection, encouragement, or support to even one person navigating their own brave and inspiring path — then it will have been more than worth it.

A Private Battle in a Very Public Life

Not in the “I wish I were 10 pounds lighter before my high school reunion” way. More in the everyday endurance, airports and real estate site visits, client-facing wardrobe anxiety, why-is-this-so-hard kind of way.

I get it done — and I’m proud of how much I do — but I want to do it with more energy, more ease, and less judgment.

Even things that should feel fun — like fashion — have become a source of stress. A close friend recently asked why I keep wearing the same dresses I’ve loved for years. The truth? It’s because they’re from the last designer who made elegant, professional dresses without a belt cinched around the middle — which is disastrous on my shape.

And it’s not just about personal preference. The evolution of private equity in the retail space, and the resulting consolidation, has wiped out many of the clothing lines I once counted on. The cuts don’t work for me anymore, the materials are lower quality, and the silhouettes often feel like they’re made for someone else entirely.

I used to love fashion — genuinely love it. It was a space for self-expression and joy. But lately, it’s felt more like damage control. So yes, there’s a lot of excitement in me about getting this part of my life solved. About the idea of walking into a store again — or opening a package — and actually being able to enjoy it.

To get back to a place where I don’t just make it work, but actually feel good in what I wear. That matters.

Seen — But Not the Way I Want to Be

That last part might be the most exhausting of all — the judgment.

To be clear, I’m lucky. Most people are kind enough not to comment out loud. But on flights, a flight attendant will ask — not so quietly — if I need a seatbelt extender. A hotel staff member recently referred to me as a “big woman” while helping with my bags, assuming I couldn’t hear. At restaurants, I see people subtly adjusting their chairs or shifting tables to “make room” — whether I need the space or not.

These micro-moments might seem harmless to someone else. But when you live them, over and over, they remind you that you’re not fully seen — or worse, that you’re constantly seen, but only through the narrow lens of your body.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m overly seen — as if people are always a step ahead, scrambling to adjust the world around me with a quiet sense of alarm. A seat shift. A glance. An assumption. And it becomes a painful reminder that no matter how much I accomplish, how confidently I show up, or how many beautiful things I build — I’m still being flagged and filtered through something that doesn’t define me.

Everyone has something they’re carrying, something they’re working through. But for so many people, their challenges are invisible. Mine, for better or worse, is always on display — and often misinterpreted. And those little moments? They stack. And they sting.

A Glimpse Back

When I look back at childhood photos, I see a little girl who was happy, full of personality — and yes, absolutely adorable. I’ll share one here. But the truth is, I don’t ever remember feeling that way about myself growing up.

Even at that young age, I was already being taught to see myself through a critical lens. I never saw what others now tell me they see in those old photos — and that disconnect has followed me for much of my life.

A Lifetime of Dieting — and a Turning Point

What makes this so painful is that it didn’t start in adulthood. One of my earliest memories — kindergarten — was sitting on my knees with classmates when a little girl compared how thin her folded legs were to mine. She said it out loud. Everyone heard. And just like that, I became “the fat girl.” That moment unlocked a lifetime of being excluded, bullied, and even dismissed by the PTA moms who didn’t want their kids to associate with me.

That’s how early the battle began.

In 2004, years after losing my dad unexpectedly, I reached my highest weight: 415 pounds. I had gastric bypass surgery that year, and over time, I lost nearly 200 pounds. I’ve kept a good amount of that weight off. But I’ve also gained some back. The number isn’t important — what matters is how I feel. And right now, I know I’m not living in a body that lets me fully experience life the way I want to.

Here’s what happens: I kick off a new health plan, I go to the gym, I eat well. Then travel picks up, or work gets intense, or life throws one of its curveballs — and my eating falls off, I get exhausted, and suddenly the gym is a distant memory. I gain and lose the same 30 pounds over and over. It’s a wall I can’t seem to break through.

The Science That Changed Everything

This week, I decided it was time to explore medical support.

I had bloodwork done and started researching weight loss medications. After reading up on what’s out there, I felt that Zepbound — a medication that works by addressing hormonal imbalances and insulin resistance — might be the right fit for me. My results came back: generally healthy across the board, except for one thing — my insulin levels were through the roof. Not diabetic. Not pre-diabetic. Just insulin-resistant in a way that’s quietly sabotaging every effort I make to eat well and lose weight.

That hit me like a lightning bolt.

My body hasn’t just been stubborn. It’s been in crisis mode — fighting me every step of the way. And those intense cravings, the food noise I’ve wrestled with for years, the constant mental gymnastics around what to eat or not eat? As it turns out, the science now shows that much of that isn’t just about willpower — it’s a metabolic response tied to insulin resistance and hormonal imbalance.

I know there are people who manage their health with remarkable discipline, no matter how chaotic their lives are — and I deeply respect that. I want to be one of those people. I believe in showing up with consistency, even when it’s hard. I actually enjoy working out, and when I’m in a rhythm, the gym is a place I love.

But like so many, I’ve found that when travel picks up, work intensifies, or personal stress hits, my food choices start to slide — and then so does everything else. That’s a cycle I want to break.

And part of breaking it means acknowledging that this isn’t just about willpower or mindset. Yes, habits and discipline matter — I’m working on strengthening those every day. But for me, it’s also about addressing the chemistry. Fixing what’s been misfiring internally. Giving my body a chance to work with me, not against me.

This is less about emotional eating and more about resolving what’s happening at a biological level — and hopefully finding a sustainable, long-term path forward.

This Is the Next Chapter

So I’ve had enough. I’m done doing this alone.And I’m done whispering.

I’ve realized I’m not the only high-achieving, professional person going through this. In fact, I know so many others — men and women alike — who are navigating similar challenges, but we only talk about it quietly, in passing, in private.

What if we didn’t?

What if we supported each other in this space just as we do in business — with honesty, encouragement, and zero shame? What if we walked together at conferences, swapped favorite travel snacks, or texted motivation from one city to another?

That’s why I’m sharing this journey — not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I haven’t.

There’s still work to do. I don’t have it all figured out. But after decades of this journey — of trying, failing, trying again — I finally feel like there might be something different here. Something hopeful.

And if you’re on this journey too, I’d love to walk alongside you. Whether that’s through comments, private DMs, or just reading along — you’re welcome here.

Tomorrow, I pick up my first doses.This is the next chapter. Let’s see where it leads.

⚠️ Disclaimer:

This blog chronicles my personal wellness journey, including my experience with Zepbound (Tirzepatide). I am not a medical professional, and nothing shared here is intended to be medical advice. Always consult your healthcare provider before starting any new medication or weight loss plan.