I’m flying home, feeling overwhelmed. Ten years ago today, I was halfway through my first Overnight Walk with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It was my first experience being involved with the organization.

My sister saw that the walk was happening in Dallas. I was intimidated by the $1,000 fundraising minimum, and she was nervous about the 18-mile trek. Little did I know, those miles would lead to one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.

When we walked, it had been over 16 years since we lost our mom. We were never afraid to say she died by suicide, but the weight of her loss never seemed to lift. And yet, in just one night, something shifted. I felt lighter. I wasn’t alone anymore—I was surrounded by thousands of people who understood, even without a single word spoken.

That one night was healing in so many ways, but looking back, it was also the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Up until then, I had felt like I was drifting through my career, moving from one thing to the next without real direction. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that night helped me discover my purpose. In the years that followed, I found more and more opportunities to speak about mental health—especially suicide prevention.

With a PhD from one of the top counseling programs, the unspoken expectation is that you’ll go into academia—publishing, researching, and teaching. But I didn’t follow that path, not even close. It never felt like the right fit for me. And because of that, I’ve often wrestled with the feeling that I haven’t lived up to what my degree was supposed to represent.

Today, I had the opportunity to speak at Wake Forest University for the Counseling Department’s Spring Seminar. The topic was suicide prevention. For three hours, I worked to stay true to myself—even while questioning if I truly belonged there. My inner nerd brought the data and research, but I balanced it with personal experience and a deep sense of empathy. And honestly, it was amazing. It was amazing because I finally realized if I’m true to myself, it doesn’t matter where I’m speaking, I have the ability to connect with others.

My mom passed away over 26 years ago, yet her impact continues to ripple outward. Her death set me on this path, but more than that, her life taught me the profound power of empathy.

I’m grateful I began this journey a decade ago. At the time, it felt like just an 18-mile walk—but now I know it was the first step on the path of a lifetime.