I’ve always believed the world is more expansive than most of us let ourselves experience. Not because opportunity is equally distributed, but because most of us stop at the edges of what feels safe, and call that the limit.

That tension, between what’s possible and what we allow ourselves to reach for, is where most of my work lives.

My path has been anything but linear. I’ve toured internationally as a background vocalist for Grammy-nominated artists, built brands, led a mentorship program for young women across five Chicago schools, founded a nonprofit, written books, and raised two incredible, wildly different kids. Not because I had a plan, but because I said yes to things that scared me and stayed curious about where they led.

These days, I work primarily with leaders. People who are already doing meaningful things, but are carrying the weight of it largely alone. My work is about helping them reconnect to why they started, think more expansively about what’s possible, and lead from a place of genuine conviction rather than performance.

I’m a nerd at heart, and my formal background is in psychology — which means I’ve always been more interested in the inner architecture of people than in their outputs. What drives someone. What breaks them. What makes them come back. Those questions have shaped everything I do.

So when artificial intelligence started demanding everyone’s attention, I wasn’t drawn to the technology. I was drawn to the revelation. Because what AI is surfacing — about cognition, behavior, identity, consciousness, connection — are the same questions psychology has been circling for over a century. What does it mean to be human? What can’t be replicated? What do we lose if we stop asking?

I believe AI is one of the most significant mirrors our civilization has ever held up to itself. And I think the people best equipped to navigate what it’s reflecting back aren’t just the engineers and ethicists — they’re the ones who understand people. Who’ve studied what we need, how we break, and what makes us irreplaceable.

That’s the conversation I want to be part of.

Those questions don’t feel separate from my work with leaders either. They feel central to it. Because the pressure to optimize, perform, and produce at scale is the same pressure AI both amplifies and exposes. And I think the most important thing any of us can do right now — as leaders, as humans — is resist the flattening.

When I’m not working, I’m laughing with my husband and best friend Kason, homeschooling our son CJ (resident dinosaur authority and Sonic expert), and trying to keep up with our toddler daughter Riley, who has absolutely no concept of caution and was born rolling her eyes.