“When I saw my daughter dim her own light because she didn’t believe her shine was “good enough”, my world stopped and changed forever.”

My story starts in a small town in Connecticut. I grew up in an Indian family in a predominantly white town, with darker skin and a name that some people deemed “odd”.

Though I loved growing up in a quaint town, I secretly felt that in order to find acceptance and belonging, I had to find a way to blend into the scenery around me. This feeling was only compounded by the fact that my parents were both immigrants and I was a first generation American. I witnessed my parents work countless hours both inside and outside of the office as they worked to get ahead, help their teammates, and find their place in the American culture.

Looking back, I internalized these thoughts as well. This thought became my driving reality, “Work hard and people will accept you.” So, I did just that. I became a straight A student, always trying to be the one to help others. And it worked. My parents were so proud of me for “being smart”. I was positively acknowledged for “being good” and doing “what was expected of me”. Before long, I became addicted to the accolades of others. I yearned for them to acknowledge me for meeting their expectations. If they didn’t, I would feel like somehow, I failed or was not good enough. 

When I recognized people pleasing behaviors and tendencies in my children I got a “wake up call”. When I heard my daughter self-deprecate because she thought she was not good enough or was unable to make her family proud. Or when I saw that my son thought it was his responsibility to take care of his friends and try to solve their problems to the point of stressing himself out.

Raising two high-performing young adults - a professional ballerina and a division 1 athlete (in addition to three other kids) - and being a mom, was my catalyst. Realizing that I wanted to demonstrate internal leadership to my children was what I needed to do.

I needed to realign with my authentic self, accept myself, know that I was enough and that I was no longer responsible for serving others’ expectations or worrying about making them happy. Because just as I was responsible for my happiness, others were responsible for theirs.
I knew I needed to show up in a way that demonstrated that I did not need to fix things for others, but lead them through my own sense of confidence.