My brother took his life when he was in his early twenties.

I was rocked to my core.

At the time, my husband—a fellow Marine—was deployed to Africa. I was alone in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. No close friends nearby. No close family. Just me, navigating a darkness so heavy that even going through the motions of life felt like climbing a mountain with no summit in sight.

I was working in pharmaceutical sales then, traveling through rural communities, sitting in doctor’s offices, encouraging prescriptions for the products I represented. The work was noble. Important, even. But it wasn’t me. I’m a servant at heart, and something about that role left me feeling hollow—like I was playing a part in someone else’s story.

Then one day, something shifted.

I don’t know if it was fate, faith, or my soul screaming from the inside, but a thought crossed my mind that wouldn’t let go:

“Stop treating life like a dress rehearsal.”

I started thinking about all the things I’d said I wanted to do but hadn’t followed through on. One of them was a book project I’d been working on with my friend and fellow Marine veteran, Courtney Lynch. We’d been chipping away at it in fits and starts—a project called Leading from the Front.

So I made a choice. I committed to pursuing this project with all my being.  Weekends. Evenings. Whatever time I could carve out, I used it. Courtney did the same. We were going to put together a book proposal worth shopping to publishers, even if no one bit.

It Just Takes One

The rejections came. So did the ghostings. We kept going.

Finally, we found an agent—someone who saw the potential in what we were building. (It just takes one.)

Then came two years of serious writing. Late nights. Revisions. More revisions. We polished that proposal until it gleamed. We envisioned a six-figure advance. We fantasized about what that kind of validation would mean.

When the offers didn’t start coming in, we would’ve taken $100 just to have someone believe in us.

McGraw-Hill believed in us.

And from there, Leading from the Front was born.

From Grief to Legacy

Since its publication 20 years ago, that book has opened doors I never could have imagined. It became the foundation for my speaking career, my consulting practice, my executive coaching work. It’s given me a platform to serve leaders across industries, helping them find their courage and their voice.

But here’s what matters more than any of that:

I learned that you can take whatever situation you find yourself in—no matter how dark, no matter how isolating—and transform it into something beautiful and productive. Not by glossing over your grief. Not by pretending it didn’t happen. But by giving meaning to the suffering you’re enduring.

My brother’s death broke me. But in that breaking, something else emerged. A clarity. A commitment. A refusal to let life pass me by while I waited for permission to pursue what mattered.

Listen to That Voice

Wherever you are right now, whatever you want to do—there’s a voice calling you. Maybe it’s quiet. Maybe it’s been drowned out by obligation, fear, or the weight of what you’re carrying.

But it’s there.

Lean into it. Hard.

Embrace the journey. Do the work. Show up, even when—especially when—it feels impossible.

You’ll never know what will happen until you stop treating your life like a dress rehearsal and start living it like the only performance that matters.

Because it is.