She Never Left

On Identity, Authenticity and Rediscovery

For years, I think I looked at her as someone I used to be: The Dancer. The Artist. The Creative.

The woman who could walk onto a stage or a basketball court in front of thousands of people and perform without wondering whether she belonged there or not.

She was younger then, certainly. Her joints were also considerably more cooperative.

But lately I’ve started wondering something. Years ago when I entered corporate sales I started to deny the dancer in me. I thought I needed to keep that wild, creative, freeform being in a place of the past. Why?

My only logical explanation is that life was presenting a certain chapter that demanded a refined version of me to emerge forward. So, I put that beautiful dancer in a box and only allowed her to come through when I thought no one else was watching.

I mistook professional evolution for permission to amputate a part of what made me…ME.

Maybe we don’t actually need to leave all of our former selves behind. Maybe the best parts come with us. Because it is what shaped us.

The discipline I learned in dance rehearsals became the discipline I carried into business.

The ability to read a room became leadership. Performance became presence. Movement became intuition. And that woman who learned how to take up space without apologizing for it?

She became me.

I spent years thinking dance was a chapter of my life that had ended.

Now I see it differently. Why did she need to leave? And, did she ever really?

Sometimes the world places expectations on us, and for a few seasons of life we learn how to meet them. We become more polished. More appropriate (I’ve never really liked that word…ever…by the way). More professional. More reasonable.

And none of those versions are necessarily false. They just don’t tell the whole story.

I don’t want to abandon the woman I became in business any more than I want to abandon the dancer who came before her. Maybe that’s the point.

We’re not supposed to keep replacing ourselves.

Leadership, I think, requires the full authentic parts of us to come forward.

---

Authenticity & Presence:

So, here’s the deal: anybody can read a script.

Anybody can learn the appropriate language, put on the right clothes, memorize the corporate jargon, and become very good at looking the part.

But leadership asks something different of us.

Guiding an organization through a pivotal change? Leading people through uncertainty when you don’t know exactly what’s waiting on the other side?

Ain’t no script for that.

You must lean on something a hell of a lot deeper.

Instinct. Presence. Courage. The ability to read the people. The willingness to improvise when the choreography changes halfway through the performance.

I was told several years ago that “my dancing days were over”. That I needed to sacrifice. There simply wasn’t time for ‘things like that’ if I wanted to be successful.

Seriously???

Because here’s the paradox I still cannot quite reconcile:

If we create no space in our lives to actually BE creative, how exactly are we supposed to summon creativity the moment our careers demand it?

We tell people to put away the things that look like play:

Dance. Music. Art. Writing. Imagination. Curiosity.

Grow Up. Get Serious. Focus. Save. Retirement.

Then we walk into the board rooms and ask those same people to innovate. Think differently. Solve something that’s never been solved before. Adapt when the plan falls apart. Lead when there is no obvious next move.

So….where exactly do we think that capacity comes from?

---

Rediscovering that piece of you —

Creativity isn’t just a switch we flip on because somebody added “brainstorm jam sesh” to the meeting agenda on a Tuesday morning.

It’s a muscle.

And maybe some of the things we’ve been taught to sacrifice in the name of success are the very things that make us exceptional once we get there.

Maybe becoming more professional was never supposed to mean becoming less of myself. Maybe maturity isn’t the process of refining ourselves until all the edges disappear.

Maybe it’s learning which parts were never meant to be edited out in the first place.

Because being a dancer actually never made me less credible as a businesswoman. She actually taught me how to be one.

And ultimately, I thought I had left her behind.

Turns out, she never left.

I hope I keep dancing until the day I die. And I hope I keep doing it for more than the joy of it. Although, thorough the joy of it would be enough.

Dance is good for the body, but it’s benefits reach far beyond physical fitness. Research has linked regular dancing with better balance, coordination, cardiovascular health, strength and mobility. It can also support brain health by requiring us to remember sequences, respond to rhythm, make split-second adjustments, and coordinate movement with music and other people. In short — dance asks the brain to pay attention, adapt, create, and connect all at once.

That kind of mental and physical engagement matters. Studies have associated dancing with improved mood, reduced stress, stronger social connection, and lower risk of cognitive decline as we age. Every step, turn and improvised movement is a small reminder that the brain is not separate from the body. It is shaped by what we ask the body to do and how we fully allow ourselves to participate in the world.

I hope I keep making a positive impact — in the boardroom, in my community, and in the lives of the people I’m fortunate enough to meet along the way.

And I fully intend to keep doing totally ridiculous things. Taking risks. Laughing way too loudly. Saying yes to the trip. Building things I believe in. Trusting myself. Playing in the midst of uncertainty. And choosing, as often as I can, to live an intentional life that’s worth pursuing.

Maybe that’s what I understand now that I didn’t understand then.

I never had to choose between the woman who wanted to be taken seriously and the woman who wanted to dance. I needed both.

She wasn’t a version of me I needed to outgrow. She was a part of me that knew how to stay curious, connected, resilient and alive.

She never left.