Maitei!

For much of my life, I believed that personal growth required reinvention.

A new beginning.

A new career.

A new location.

A new identity.

A new version of myself.

Perhaps this belief came naturally from the unusual circumstances of my upbringing.

My family was never particularly interested in conventional arrangements.

My mother began as my father’s maid.

His wife did not object.

In fact, she became part of our extended family story.

I grew up in a household where labels rarely explained very much and relationships mattered far more than appearances.

As a child, this seemed entirely normal.

As an adult, I occasionally realize it was anything but.

I am the same age as two of my half-nephews.

We grew up together.

To this day I sometimes have to stop and think before explaining it to people.

Life, as I have often discovered, rarely fits neatly into the boxes we create for it.

Perhaps that is why I spent fifteen years wandering.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

I traveled.

I backpacked.

I explored.

I lived in places that many people only see in photographs.

I learned new customs.

I made friends in countries I never expected to visit.

I discovered that the world is simultaneously much larger and much smaller than most people imagine.

Everywhere I went, I believed I was becoming someone new.

Then one day I realized something curious.

No matter where I traveled, I kept meeting the same person.

Myself.

The scenery changed.

The language changed.

The circumstances changed.

Yet certain parts of me followed faithfully wherever I went.

The part that enjoyed helping people.

The part that loved hearing their stories.

The part that found satisfaction in connecting individuals who needed one another.

The part that believed encouragement could genuinely change a life.

Those pieces never left.

They simply expressed themselves differently.

For a time, that expression took the form of virtual assistant work.

I spent years helping entrepreneurs, authors, speakers, and business owners organize their worlds.

I enjoyed it tremendously.

Not because I was fascinated by spreadsheets or scheduling systems.

Although they certainly have their place.

I enjoyed it because every task ultimately connected back to a person.

A dream.

A project.

A goal.

A life being built.

Later came the restaurant.

Some people might see that transition as a step backward.

I never did.

The tools changed.

The purpose did not.

Instead of helping someone prepare a presentation, I helped create a memorable evening.

Instead of managing calendars, I greeted familiar faces and welcomed new ones.

Instead of supporting people through a computer screen, I supported them across a table.

Different environment.

Same instincts.

Same heart.

These days, I find myself in an interesting chapter.

Not quite retired.

Not quite working in the way I once did.

Not quite beginning.

Not quite ending.

A quieter season.

One that allows for reflection.

And reflection has taught me something valuable.

Growth is often misunderstood.

We imagine it as transformation.

A caterpillar becoming a butterfly.

A dramatic before-and-after photograph.

A complete reinvention.

Sometimes that happens.

More often, however, growth is recognition.

It is finally understanding who you have been all along.

The traveler.

The helper.

The encourager.

The builder.

The listener.

The dreamer.

The person who was present in every chapter, even when the scenery kept changing.

You do not always need to reinvent yourself.

Sometimes you simply need to give yourself permission to become more fully who you already are.

I find that realization both comforting and liberating.

Perhaps you will too.

Mis mejores deseos,
Tammie