my
STORY
On the day I turned 26, I was named General Manager of Wunderman Worldwide in Puerto Rico, a subsidiary of Young & Rubicam.
It was a bold move. What I couldn't have known then is that leadership, for all its glamor on paper, would test me in ways no MBA could prepare me for.
Not long into that first year, I walked into our sister company's project management department to ask a routine question. What I found instead was chaos: the head of project management looking stricken, a VP pale as a ghost, and a young employee in tears.
A mistake had gone out in a full-page newspaper ad for KFC, one of the sacred accounts under the PepsiCo umbrella. The client was threatening to fire us—a move that could ripple into losing Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, soft drinks, and more across the globe.
I braced myself, imagining some catastrophic pricing error that would require us to honor impossible offers. But when they finally showed me the issue, it was this: in a small rectangle of the ad, the chicken's tail which was supposed to be red had been printed white.
That was it.
And yet, here we were: careers unraveling, reputations on the line, because of a tiny colored tail. I took a deep breath. This wasn't my team's error, but it affected us all. And the client, difficult as he was, happened to listen to me more than most.
"I'll deal with it," I said. Then I went to my office, closed the door... and cried.
I cried because I couldn't believe this was what I was here for. I cried for the absurdity, the pressure, the misplaced meaning. There had to be something more, something deeper, than crisis management over a chicken tail.
That moment
SOMETHING CRACKED OPEN
IN ME.
Over the next several years, my career flourished. By my early 30s, I was leading a company in Mexico. At 34, I was selected as one of a few global "Young Lions" at Young & Rubicam — people being groomed for top global leadership.
Around that time, a FedEx package arrived from the global CEO. Inside was a book: The Wisdom of the Enneagram. I found it strange — why would our CEO care about our psychospiritual wellbeing? But I devoured it. I was already exploring Tibetan Buddhism and other inner paths, and this landed in fertile ground.
Soon after, I traveled to New York for our first Young Lions gathering. That's where I learned about coaching — real coaching. When the presentations began, I had a visceral knowing: This is what I'm meant to be doing.
Our program culminated in Prague, and there, in a closing session with my coach, I told him I wanted to leave the company and do what he did. He smiled.
From Prague, I flew to New York and sat down with Mike, our CEO. I told him the truth: I was ready to step away. True to form, he was generous and supportive. "When your company is thriving," he said, "come back and sell it to us."
I formally trained in the Enneagram, and almost simultaneously in Integral Coaching.
As I went deeper, I noticed some of the most transformative teachers I encountered had a distinct quality — a depth I couldn't quite name. I soon discovered they were students of the Diamond Approach. That opened yet another doorway — into psychospiritual development, presence work, and embodiment. It expanded my lens beyond performance into essence.
That's the throughline: from leading global teams to sitting with a client one-on-one, I've always been drawn to what makes us real — what returns us to wholeness.
Today, I bring all of that — the global business experience, the coaching mastery, and the inner work — into everything I do. Whether I'm working with a seasoned executive or an organization in transition, I hold space for complexity, clarity, and lasting transformation.
And yes, the thirty-something found her reason for being, not knowing it would continue to unfold with time. I love guiding people to learn, grow, and transform. I hope you will join me.
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