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There was a time I measured success by how busy I was.
In the corporate world, I had the resume, the salary, and the carefully structured calendar. On paper, everything looked “right.” But I was exhausted. Every Sunday night felt like a silent scream in my chest. I remember sitting on my bed before meetings, breathing shallowly, wondering if this was it—if this was the life I was supposed to want.
Turns out, it wasn’t.
The truth is, my soul had been whispering for a long time. I took my very first yoga class over a decade ago while studying business, and I cried in Savasana without knowing why. Something inside me cracked open, but I wasn’t ready to listen—yet.
So I built a career instead. I followed the path of security, recognition, and success. But no matter how far I climbed, I couldn’t shake the quiet ache that lived in my chest. Burnout showed up. Then anxiety. Then that hollow feeling that no amount of promotions, green juices, or gym memberships could fill.
During the pandemic, I completed my first online yoga teacher training—a seed I had planted years before. One breath at a time, I began remembering who I was before the world told me who to be. I journaled. I cried. I allowed silence. And that silence stirred something ancient within me.
But it wasn’t until later—after a breakup, turning 30, and confronting a void I could no longer ignore—that I finally leapt.
Quitting my corporate job wasn’t just a career move; it was a soul decision.
It was the moment I stopped asking for permission to be myself.
I moved to India and immersed myself in the practice that had been quietly holding me all along. I completed two in-person yoga teacher trainings—one in Rishikesh and one in Goa—and earned my 500-hour certification. Then I started traveling the world, finding opportunities to teach, to learn, and to keep healing.
One year ago, I moved to the Dominican Republic, where I still live. I teach yoga, lead retreats, and support others in returning to themselves. I’m building my business—slowly, soulfully—and learning the lessons life has for me along the way.
Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
>> Success doesn’t always come with a salary.
>> You don’t have to be perfect to lead—you just have to be honest.
>> There’s a deeper kind of abundance that shows up when you follow what’s true.
I now measure my days in presence, not productivity. In connection, not comparison. I’ve taught yoga on beaches, held women in breathwork circles, and witnessed people break open—and rebuild—in the most beautiful ways.
Of course, I still feel fear. I’ve wrestled with instability, with imposter syndrome, with the voice that whispers, “Who do you think you are?” But I’ve also built courage, community, and a life that feels like mine.
If you’re standing on the edge of change—wondering if you’re ready, wondering if it’s too late—let this be your sign.
It’s never too late to choose yourself.
It’s never too late to rewrite your definition of success.
And it’s always the right time to listen to the whispers of your soul.
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