When I first began the Better Me: Better World project through the National Society of Leadership and Success, I knew it would be a challenge. I was intentionally taking on goals that would stretch me—not just professionally, but personally, emotionally, and even physically. The idea was simple: if I could improve myself in key areas of life, like physical health, intellectual development, emotional care, ethical awareness, and service to others, I believed I could grow into a stronger leader and a more grounded person. What I didn’t realize at the time was just how much this journey would demand of me, and more importantly how important the skill of resilience would become.
This is the first blog post in a series discussing the project, its outcomes, its impact on me and others, and finally, where we go from here. In this first post, I want to focus on two deeply personal parts of the journey: Physical Development and Emotional Care. These two areas were foundational, and they ended up being tightly connected in ways I had not anticipated.
Physical Development: More Than Just Numbers
One of my first goals in this project was to complete a full nutrition and wellbeing program to improve my physical and mental health. I had reached a point where I didn’t feel like myself anymore—my energy was low, my blood pressure was climbing, and I knew that if I wanted to become the leader and person I aspired to be, I needed to take control of my health first.
I chose to follow an at-home workout and nutrition program through BODi by Beachbody. It wasn’t easy to get started. In fact, I was nervous—even embarrassed. I didn’t take “before” photos. I got in front of the mirror and held the camera in my hand ready to snap the photo. But to be completely honest, I was ashamed by what I saw through the camera lens. I didn’t take the photo and even writing this, I still remember how I looked and how I felt in the moment.
But I tracked my weight and blood pressure from the beginning, and those numbers told their own story. When I began, I weighed 238 pounds. This was the most I’ve ever weighed in my life. My highest blood pressure reading was 150/89, which was not just a red flag—it was a wake-up call. By the end of the program, I had dropped 19 pounds, and my lowest recorded blood pressure reading was 118/79. I felt lighter, like I had achieved something important. I was sleeping better. I had more energy during the day. And perhaps most importantly, I had regained a sense of control and self-discipline.
What I learned through this part of the project is that physical wellness isn’t just about fitness. It’s about integrity with yourself. Following through on workouts and nutrition plans built confidence that carried over into other areas of life. It reminded me that small, consistent actions lead to meaningful change—a principle that applies to both leadership and personal growth.
Emotional Care: The Best Laid Plans
At the same time, I had ambitious goals for emotional care. I planned to complete daily 10- to 15-minute meditation sessions and write in a gratitude journal each day. I started off strong. I used the Headspace app through my employer to guide my meditations, and I genuinely enjoyed those moments of quiet and reflection. But as the project wore on and the demands of life and work increased, my consistency didn’t just slip, it fell off completely.
During this time period, I was enrolled in a doctoral program full-time, working full-time, trying to establish new habits and behaviors and frankly, I bit off way more than I could chew. I had the best intentions with these goals, but when push came to shove I prioritized what was either easiest to do or the most impactful. As a result, I didn’t keep up with the daily gratitude journaling as I had hoped. Meditations were sporadic, at best.
And then life threw me a curveball I couldn’t have planned for. On April 19, 2025, my mother passed away after her second battle with cancer. I knew things were getting bad over Christmas, but I didn’t know quite how bad. I took time off from my doctoral program to be prepared for unexpected trips to visit her. Things got ready bad in March, and never really improved. In April, the cancer had run its course and her body was no longer responding to the medicines. Even writing this, I’m still filled with a flurry of emotions – anger, frustration, sadness, regret.
Everything stopped for a while with the project. I went into survival mode. Grief has a way of reshaping your priorities and forcing you to wrestle with your own emotional limits. But it also brought me face-to-face with the core of what this project was really about.
I realized that emotional care is not just about checking off boxes—it’s about being gentle with yourself, especially in hard moments. I gave myself grace for not meeting every goal perfectly. I reminded myself that showing up at all during those days was a kind of strength. The hurt is still fresh, and even today I still struggle with having the strength to even get out of bed sometimes. Even though I didn’t complete every part of the emotional care plan, I learned how vital this area of life is for sustaining long-term growth and being able to show up every day physically and emotionally.
Resilience as the Unexpected Lesson
As we close this first post, I want to leave you with my BIG lesson from the project. Resilience.
I began the project with lofty goals and high expectations. I challenged myself to go outside of my comfort zone and not just choose the easy way out. I set out to become a better version of myself, and I did—but not in the way I expected. I learned that progress often comes with detours. That doing the best you can, even in the midst of grief or disruption, is still growth. Physical health and emotional well-being are inseparable. True leadership starts with the courage to keep going when things get hard, even when you lose someone who is your rock and main support system.
Writing this post is an exercise in resilience in itself. I believe that my mother would have wanted me to continue. She always supported me in whatever project or goals I had, even if she didn’t understand them. I don’t believe she would have wanted me to stop with this project, stop with my doctoral program, or stop with work and family. It’s hard. I don’t feel like I have the energy to do this, but I’m doing my best to push through. Resilience is a difficult skill. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore the work and do nothing at all. This revelation from the project reminded me that leadership isn’t always loud or visible. Sometimes it looks like quietly honoring a commitment to yourself. Sometimes it means listening to your body. And sometimes it means pausing and coming back when you’re ready.
Looking Ahead
As I reflect on the physical and emotional parts of this journey, I’m grateful—not just for the wins, but for the lessons hidden in the setbacks. Moving forward, I plan to return to the emotional habits I didn’t fully develop—gratitude journaling and more consistent mindfulness. I also want to keep improving my physical health, not because I “have to,” but because I now understand how deeply it affects every other part of my life. After losing my mother, I have a new “why” to keep me motivated, even when I really don’t want to!
And to anyone else who might be taking on a personal growth challenge: don’t worry if you can’t do it perfectly. Just do it with intention. Give yourself room to grow, and give yourself grace when the path isn’t straight or you stumble. That’s what resilience is all about.
In my next post, I’ll explore what I learned from reading leadership books, writing about them, and sharing those lessons with others.
Until then—keep going. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
